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Her expression is open and genuine and she doesn’t seem to be aware that I had…company. Thank you thank you thank you. “I think so.”
“You’re lucky. I still have work to do on mine. I sometimes wish my style wasn’t so incredibly labor-intensive. Photo realism is tedious.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re the best painter in our class, Maeve. You’re so talented.”
“Thanks, Zara. You are too. God, wasn’t that crazy when the quarterback randomly showed up in our class the other day? That guy is ridiculously hot.”
My stomach sort of swoops at the mention of the one person I’m trying to banish from my brain and having zero luck doing it. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Football players are so not my type,” she laughs. “But I’d make an exception for that one. Listen, I’ve got to head this way, to grab my laptop before my next class. Are you going to be in your studio tonight?”
“Um…no. I’ve got an essay to write. I’ll be in my dorm, probably.”
“Oh, well, I’ll see you in class, then.”
“See you, Maeve.”
I head toward my next class and my phone rings. I hesitate before pulling my phone out. Elias left twenty or so messages earlier this morning but I haven’t listened to any of them. I can’t. He’s clearly my Kryptonite and I know that if I listen to him, my self-control will melt like ice under his fully blazing sun.
But he hasn’t called in a few hours. Which is good. It’s a sad but real relief. Maybe he’s accepting that one beautiful night is all we can have together.
You don’t believe that. Not for one second. You know you’re both addicted.
I mentally push my little devil mermaid off my shoulder before pulling out my phone. It’s my dad.
“Hi, Dad. Everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine, sweetheart. How are your classes?”
“They’re good.”
“Listen, honey, I’ve got a meeting with some scouts on Sunday afternoon in Boston, both this weekend and next weekend. I tried to get them to come to me but they weren’t able to do that this time. So I’m not going to be able to do dinner those two nights. Can I take a raincheck on that lasagna?”
“Sure, Dad. I’ll come another night and cook for you.”
“Great. You doing okay?”
“I’m good. I’m coming to your game on Saturday. With some friends.”
“Oh.” He sounds surprised. It’s been a long time since I came to one of his games.
“I told you my roommate Isla has a brother on the team. She really wants me to come with her since she doesn’t know anyone else yet.”
“I can get you tickets, honey. You know that. Any seat in the house.”
“Oh, we’ve got seats. She organized it.” I hate telling him white lies but he really doesn’t need to know the truth.
“Okay. Any time you want to come just let me know.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Remember what I told you about football players, Zara.”
Here we go. “I know, Dad.”
“They’ll break your heart. It’s what they do.”
“I know, Dad.” He already has. “Good luck on Saturday. I’ll be cheering for you.”
