Put Me Back Together(11)

A little more than an hour later I turned my music off. My painting was by no means finished, but I’d made a good start. I wasn’t working from a photograph, which I knew would get me into trouble, but I didn’t have much choice. Even if I could go back to that place and take a picture, I knew I never would. Luckily, I didn’t need a photograph to paint the scene. It was seared into my brain.

Today I’d worked on the sky, which didn’t pose much of a challenge for me. I’d become an expert at painting the fading light of day, the lingering blue, the peeking stars. I’d painted that sky a hundred times. No matter what I did, even if I painted a daytime scene, there was always that sky hanging over it, scattered with darkening clouds.

I could never escape that sky.

Looking around, I noticed Lucas wasn’t at his easel. Instead, he was leaning against the counter behind me. As I turned around, I caught him looking at my painting and a wave of panic shot through me. How long had he been watching? Had he seen me in my artist trance? I had no idea what I looked like when I was in that state—probably like I was high or a little mad. To cover my embarrassment, I jumped from my seat.

“Let’s see yours!” I said, stepping over to his easel.

“It’s not finished,” Lucas said hesitantly, and he was right; it wasn’t. The right-hand side of the painting was mostly blank. But he’d recreated the trees in his photo with surprising skill. I was impressed by the way he’d managed to make it seem as though the sun was shining through the branches. His style was more realistic than mine, but far more advanced than I’d expected. I couldn’t quite believe it.

I turned to him and he raised his eyebrows at me. He actually looked anxious to hear what I thought. I’d never seen him look anything but relaxed before.

“It’s really good,” I said with a genuine smile and he seemed to let out a breath he was holding. “I love your use of light here.” I pointed at the branches. “I can’t wait to see it when it’s finished. I had no idea…” I shook my head.

“No idea what?” he asked.

“You surprise me,” I said simply.

My certainty that the attraction I was feeling was entirely one-sided crumbled in an instant as Lucas stared into my eyes, making my stomach flip. He looked at me like he’d never seen anything like me before, like I was the only girl in the world, like I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Nobody had ever looked at me that way in my entire life.

“Go out for coffee with me,” Lucas said, his eyes locked to mine.

I didn’t even take a second to think about it.

“Okay,” I said.





4





I convinced Lucas to go to a local coffee shop I knew of on a side street off campus. I told him it would be less crowded, when really I just didn’t want to be whispered about for the rest of the day for having a coffee date with Lothario Lucas. If he had any idea I was lying, he didn’t let on, which left me feeling a little buzzed with relief. I didn’t bother asking myself why it mattered so much to me if Lucas thought I was a liar.

We passed one of our cat flyers stapled to a telephone pole, flapping depressingly in the wind. In the end Lucas had insisted we put his number on the bottom, just in case some kook ended up calling, but he said he hadn’t gotten any calls.

As we walked through the door to the coffee place, my cell buzzed in my hand.



Em: Econ is sooooo boring. Make me laugh. Now. Go.



I considered telling my sister I was about to sit down for coffee with “Lucas Matthews is a hottie,” but decided against it. Knowing Em, she’d probably scream right there in class and hold it against me later. Better to make her wait.



Me: But how? I’m so boring, too.

Em: True. Sighhhhh.

Me: Might have a story for you later, tho.

Em: What what?

Me: Maybe something about a certain hottie…

Em: WHAT!

Me: Oh, sorry, gotta go.

Em: Evil tease!

Me: TTYL :)



As much as everything to do with Lucas felt completely ill advised to me, it was fun to have something to gossip with my sister about, even if I was pretending—it was just coffee; I was pretty sure there wouldn’t be much of a story to tell. She was usually the one coming to me with juicy tales of heartbreak and outrage and adventure. I liked the idea of being able to deliver something back.


It was almost like I had a life.

Lucas had been waiting behind me in line, respectfully not asking whom I was texting with. When it was my turn to order, I got a giant hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and covered it with chocolate and cinnamon shavings. I liked my beverages to be as much like dessert as possible. I collected my drink and grabbed a seat at a table by the window, wondering only after I’d sat down if that was the socially correct thing to do. Should I have waited with him while they made his drink? Should I have paid for his drink? (In actuality, he’d paid for mine, even though he was behind me in line. Was that normal?) I eyed him nervously as he stood with his coat under his arm, chatting with the guy behind the counter. I could say I didn’t check out his ass from across the room, but that would be another lie.

His coffee in hand—he got it black and in the smallest size, like he was trying to make me look like the biggest pig in the world—he walked over to where I sat, and a dozen female eyes followed him.