Britt looked at the small circle to the left of the message. H’s avatar was a digital drawing of a planet surrounded by purple, pink, and silver space dust on a black background. Then she read the message again. This wasn’t the first time someone had written the words “I hope this isn’t weird.” It almost always was. And there were other people who messaged her and wondered why they were writing to her or confessing something. But there were two words in H’s message that made her pay attention.
Uncomfortably comfortable.
That was her in a nutshell. She had nothing to complain about. She lived in a nice house, her mother treated her like an adult—most of the time—and she had a good job that was building a great nest egg. It helped that she didn’t have too many expenses, although she did pay rent to her mother and footed her own bills for her phone, insurance, gas, etc. Not that she drove her secondhand car too often. Like everything else in life, driving gave her anxiety. She’d barely made it through the process of getting her license. She wouldn’t have done it without Savannah’s and her mother’s encouragement.
Britt closed her laptop and went to the window. The bonus room she’d turned into an office six years ago faced the street and gave her an overview of the neighborhood. Beyond the house across from hers was a nice neighborhood park that hada pond complete with ducks, a walking trail, and a sand volleyball court, along with the requisite playground equipment for kids. When was the last time she had gone to the park? Or gone swimming?
Her best friend was getting married, and Britt was... uncomfortably comfortable.
The playlist on her phone ended, and she started up another one. She’d never been into hip-hop, rap, or any pop music past 2000. Savannah always teased her about her “boomer music,” but Britt didn’t care. She smiled as a Seals & Crofts tune played in her ear while she opened her laptop again and reread H’s message. She decided to respond.
Dear H,
She stopped, having no idea if H was female or male, and then realized it didn’t make a difference.
Thanks for reaching out to me. I’m glad you liked the video—beachscapes are relaxing to draw, even though I’ve never been to an actual beach. One day I’d like to go, just to dip my toes in the ocean and collect seashells. I know that sounds boring compared to surfing.
I’ve discovered over the years that people who say they can’t draw or paint or do any kind of art just haven’t found what suits them. Coloring in the lines isn’t easy, no matter what medium you use. I still miss the lines myself sometimes. And that’s okay. You have to give yourself the freedom not to be perfect.
I hope you’re able to figure out how to make your changes. I’m still working on mine.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. Now who was confessing things? She quickly signed off the message, and after a second’s hesitation, hit Send. She’d probably never hear from H again. That happened too, where she liked a message enough to respond to it. Those were almost always requests for art help, and if she was able to offer advice, she gave it. It always surprised her how many people didn’t bother to say “thanks” or “I got your message.” She didn’t want them kissing her feet, but a response in return would be nice.
She did some more doodling and internet searching, finally landing on an idea for her next video—a ten-minute art challenge. She’d done a thirty-minute one before and it was fun. She took out her planning notebook and decided on the subject—a seashell.
She made some production notes, a list of supplies, and a timeline, then practiced drawing a pale-pink scallop shell with pastels, all while timing herself. When she got down to ten minutes, she stopped, made a few notes about how she was able to accomplish the speed drawing, then began to shut down for the day and start on supper—a nice cobb salad with homemade dressing. On hot days like today, she and Mom preferred to eat light meals.
Just as she was logging off her channel, she saw a new message pop up. She paused, thinking it was probably another spam DM, then clicked on it.
Britt—I didn’t really expect you to write back, so it was nice to get a response. I’ve got a few things to do before I head to work, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to message you later. I’ve got some questions about art. Maybe you’re right—I just haven’t found the right thing yet.
She smiled and looked at the sign-off name.Hunter.
Chapter 4
“Break time’s over.” Sawyer snatched Hunter’s phone out of his hand.
Hunter shot up from the chair at one of the wobbly tables in the warehouse break room and grabbed for his phone. “I’ve got three minutes left. Who put you in charge of the clock?”
“Me, myself, and I.” Sawyer, who was at least four inches shorter than Hunter but twice as fast, ducked under his arm and dashed to the other side of the empty room. “What do we have here?” he said, looking at the screen.
“Give it back, Campbell,” he warned.
“In a second. I want to see what—orwho—has been consuming your life for the past week.” He frowned as he brushed the screen with his finger. Then he looked up. “Art videos?”
Hunter jerked the phone out of his hands. “Yeah. What did you think it was?”
“Nothing that innocent.” Sawyer shoved a nearby chair under a table with his hip. “Since when have you been interested in art?”
“That’s none of your business.” He put his phone in his pocket and clocked back in to work. “Next time you pull a stunt like that, you’ll regret it.”
Sawyer held up his hands, palms out. “Okay, okay. It was just a joke. Don’t get so touchy.”
They walked out of the break room. Hunter didn’t think he was being touchy at all for getting annoyed about Sawyer lookingat his phone, even as a joke. Before he was so unceremoniously interrupted, he’d watched Britt for over five minutes as she departed from her usual drawing and painting and sculpted a clay figurine.
“It helps to visualize the object in three dimensions, adding more realism to the project. If realism is your goal.”She shrugged, giving the camera a shy smile.“For you impressionists out there, just have fun with the clay.”
Until he’d started watching her channel, he hadn’t given any thought to all the ways there were to create art.
