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I have no idea how she does it. Beth is the world’s worst procrastinator. She waits until the last possible second to write her papers, but manages to hand them in on time and keeps good grades.
“How is he?” I ask carefully.
Beth notices, walks over, and steps up next to me. “He’s been out of sorts for the past few days.”
“He told me about something.” I stand there, gaping at the paint, horrified that I said those words. I wasn’t going to tell her. I’m sure she knows everything about Josh.
Beth’s eyes are on the side of my face. “He told you.” It’s a statement, murmured quietly, unbelievingly. “Seriously? You couldn’t stay away from him?” Her face crumples and she shakes her head, backing away from me, scolding, “You’re nailing Nate and that’s not enough, you have to get with Josh, too?” Disgusted, Beth rushes away from me, throws open the classroom door, and takes off down the hall.
What just happened? Why did she behave like that? “Hey, wait a second!” I drop my brushes and rush after her, not catching up until we’re in the dark hallway. I grab her elbow and whirl her around. “I didn’t do anything. Beth, he just told me.”
Her eyes are glassy. “Right, because he likes you. And the one thing I asked was that you guys didn’t get together, because when it falls apart—”
“We’re not together. Beth, it’s not like that.”
“Did you kiss him?” She presses, pointblank. “Well?” When I don’t answer, her eyes cut to the side and she lets out a rush of air. “I’ve done this before and I’m not doing it again.” She turns on her Chinese slippered heel and stomps off down the hall, pissed.
“I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to end up like this.” I call after her, apologizing, but she doesn’t answer, and doesn’t stop.
There were several reasons why I shouldn’t have kissed Josh, but this is the main one—Beth. She said no, and I didn’t listen.
CHAPTER 8
I head back into the classroom and start cleaning up. I screw the tops back on my paint tubes and head over to the sink to clean my brushes. As I stand there, rubbing my thumb over the fine hairs and watching a ribbon of colors run down the drain, I stare. The water softens the colors, blends them from one muted hue to another, tangling the colors, but keeping them separate. I lift my gaze across the room to my painting, and then back down to the brush. It’s that soft harmony that catches my attention and makes me wonder. I want to capture the opposite. I want movement and anguish. I suddenly see what I need to do, but I’m not sure if I have the guts to do it. If I’m wrong it will mess up the whole painting and I won’t be able to fix it.
I twist off the faucet and take the clean brush over to my canvas. The paint is piled on thickly, creating texture and depth. If I turn my brush around and scrape into the wet paint it could be everything I wanted. I can’t hesitate. I have to do it with confidence or it’ll show. There can’t be wiggly lines here. They need to be curved, drawn fast and hard.
Sucking in air, I stay my hand, bite my lip, and slash at the canvas with the wrong end of the paintbrush. I do it again and again, marking the work over and over, leaving no section untouched. The smooth surface is marred by gouges that cut all the way down to the canvas, leaving a pale streak of color in its wake across the fine weave of the fabric.
I have no idea how much time has passed. I’ve been slashing at it, filling the sky with swirls and her dress with little gashes, and flaying her hair until the entire canvas is covered in gouges.
I don’t hear him enter the room. The sound of the door opening never caught my attention. I’m so wrapped up in what I’m doing that I don’t notice Nate until he’s standing next to me. A dusting of dark stubble lines his jaw. His Oxford shirt is unbuttoned at the neck, cuffs rolled up, and pushed back over the thick muscles of his forearms. The hem of his shirt is untucked and he shucked his tie hours ago. He folds his arms over his chest and spreads his jean-clad ankles a shoulder width apart, surveying my painting with me.
For a while he says nothing, and then nods slowly like he appreciates what he sees. “This was brave. Did it have the desired effect?”
I’m still staring at the painting with my arms at my sides. “I think so.”
“Movement, anarchy, fear, wanting, and so much more is conveyed in this piece now. It wasn’t there before.”
I agree with him. “No, it wasn’t.”
Nate’s eyes are glued to the canvas, slipping over it, drinking it in. “It’s as if you added air to this piece. There’s breath and life in the girl, wind in the sky which gusts against the grass and foliage. At the same time the pattern makes it feel like there’s never enough oxygen. I can’t tell which way she’s going to run, but it’s clear she has to run.”
I turn and look at him. There are dark circles under his eyes like he hasn’t slept for days. “What’s wrong?”
Nate finally looks down at me, unfolds his arms, and then runs a hand through his hair. His beautiful face is weary, and the corners of his eyes are pinched with worry. “Nothing, just a long few days.” He inhales deeply and lets out a tired sig
h.
My hair is in a ponytail with extra paintbrushes sticking out from the back of my head like a spiky crown. “Yeah, it’s been a long week.”
I feel his eyes on me, sliding down my face to my neck, and then dipping further before coming back up. He steps closer to me and breathes in my ear, “Do you want to talk?”
“No,” I say flatly. He hasn’t been around and everything is falling apart. I’m falling apart. I want to cry on his shoulder and tell him what’s wrong, but that’s off limits. There’s no relationship here, nothing like that can transpire between us. And with Carter’s threat looming, I should walk away. This conversation should stop right now.
Nate steps closer and his lips brush my cheek when he speaks, making my skin tingle. “Can I help you with anything?”
My eyes close as the pretend kiss sweeps over my skin. I want to fall into him and melt. I want to forget about everything else and just be his for a while. But I can’t do that either. Carter will know. I stare at the stupid device on my wrist and wish I could take it off.
