“Yeah?”
She nods. “I don’t want to say I would’ve regretted it, but I don’t think I was as ready as I thought I was.”
“I’d never pressure you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”
“I know.” She kisses me, her lips moving gently and carefully. After a thoughtful pause, she looks at me before saying, “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
She takes a deep breath. A quiet, preliminary pause before she segues into her question. “Have you been with anyone? You know…”
I laugh awkwardly, and my heart suddenly feels like it’s ricocheting off the walls of my chest. “Um, yeah.”
We both sit up, and Teeny draws her knees up to her chin. She peers up at me, the mood now shifted into something more quiet and earnest.
“It was sophomore year,” I tell her. “This girl in my algebra class. We started kind of seeing each other. I think she liked that I played basketball. But then I moved, and we lost touch.”
“So, she was your girlfriend?”
“‘Girlfriend’ is a little strong. More like…‘girl who was a little more than a friend.’”
The silence between us lingers noisily, hard to ignore or snuff.
“Is that…okay?”
Teeny shrugs. “Your past is your past.”
“And I don’t talk to her.”
“Okay.” She smiles at me, her eyes soft and understanding.
I sense a moment of unease. A tight tension she doesn’t feel comfortable with. A change in subject feels good right about now. “You want to tell me about what you’re working on?”
She sighs, letting a small, relieved smile slip, and we both turn to look at the painting. It’s not finished, made obvious by the white patches of the canvas. What’s colored is a blend of blues. Turquoise, navy, sky blue, indigo, periwinkle. “It’s for my show at the gallery. This is my last piece, and I need to have it done just after New Year’s.”
“So, you have a little over a month?”
She nods. “And I feel like I’m kind of losing my creative groove.”
“What are you talking about? It looks almost done.”
Teeny stands from the bed, walking over to the painting. She traces a gentle finger over the drying painting, hovering over it with care. “I’m having trouble getting the right shade of green and blue to mimic the ocean. The darker colors of the deep water and the waves…no matter what I use, I can’t seem to get it the color I want.”
I follow her steps, sidling up behind her and wrapping my arm around her stomach. “It’s beautiful.”
Her fingers thread up my neck and into my hair, guiding my chin to rest on her shoulder. “Thank you.”
“Can I ask you a favor?”
“Hmm?”
“We have an away game up in Irvine in two weeks. Right before winter break. Can you be there? Maybe bring that big sign with my number on it this time?”
“Yeah,” she says, her voice is soft and light and airy. “As long as you come to my show.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah?”
