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I decide to spend the afternoon lounging on the grassy area next to the Grand Prix track. My body curls up on a blanket under the sun, basking in the somewhat cool weather and blue sky. After yesterday’s conversation with my dad, my head still reels at his ultimatum, uncertainty eating away at my sense of calmness. Our conversation means I need to be more careful around Liam and how people interpret our relationship.
Speaking of the man who never leaves my mind, Liam finds me, carrying a book and something else. I take him in from my position lying down. The sun hits him at the perfect angle, basking his muscular form in a golden glow. My throat bobs at the sight of him with his arms on display and thick legs within touching distance.
I divert my naughty thoughts. “I think that book is larger than my head.”
Liam prefers big paperbacks instead of an e-reader. He got insulted when I asked him why he doesn’t pack one for his long travels. If I didn’t think Liam was a secret nerd before, the fact that he travels with three different books in his carry-on backpack should’ve sealed the deal. While some people read BuzzFeed articles and take online quizzes when bored, Liam reads book blogs and watches YouTube videos analyzing literature and film adaptations. Even I, a Star Wars fan since childhood, can’t keep up with his crazy theory videos surrounding the cinematic universe.
“Want to see what else is larger than your head?” His voice rasps as his shadow hangs over me, blocking the light from my eyes.
I roll my eyes. “You’re losing your touch. That was a weak one, like a negative two out of ten.”
He situates himself next to me, his clean scent halting my working brain cells. My vision sucks because what I thought was another large book is actually a wrapped-up rectangle.
I look at him warily, pointing to the galaxy wrapping paper. “And what’s that?”
“I bought you a present. I saw it in a store and thought of you.” A pink tinge creeps from his neck to his cheeks.
My heart constricts at the idea of him buying something for me. How…friendly…of him. Not to mention he bought special wrapping paper. Part of my heart melts under the sun’s rays, unable to cope with Liam being this kind.
“Okay, gimme gimme.” I sit and make grabby hands, bringing a smile to his face, his shyness no longer an issue.
He passes me the large package. My fingers find a crease in the paper but I hesitate to rip the beautiful paper. Stars scatter across swirls of blue, purple, and black. His thoughtfulness confuses me, unlike any friend I’ve had before, testing my idea to keep things casual between us.
“You’re killing me with suspense. It’s only wrapping paper.” He taps my stilled fingers.
Oh, Liam. So unaware of my conflicting decision between jumping your bones and keeping you as a forever friend.
No longer needing encouragement, I rip at the paper, the dark wrapping giving way to a sketchbook. My eyes water. I run shaky fingers across the rough textured cover, loving Liam’s sweet and unexpected gesture. It’s like everything between us, both unpredictable and indescribable, creating a friendship that doesn’t fit in a checked box.
A dimple-inducing smile crosses my face when Liam tosses a pack of charcoal onto my lap. I stare at my favorite medium, emotional at how Liam remembered my weed-induced confession.
“If I get a smile like that with something simple, I’ll have to get you stuff all the time.” He beams at me, filling me with happiness and gratitude. My heart has officially reached its sweetness capacity.
“This is so special. I can’t even believe you thought of this. Thank you so much.” I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him in for a hug. He stills before wrapping his arms around me, his head finding the hollow of my neck. I get a good whiff of his cologne because when I torture myself, I make sure to really take it all the way.
I let go after a few more seconds and end our moment.
His eyes flit to the side, hinting at his bashfulness. “I hope you use it. No more excuses about not having time or being scared. We all know you have bigger balls than half the men on the grid.”
This man flatters me and disarms me all in one sitting.
“I’m touched you own up to your faults. I like a man who isn’t afraid to let a woman know about his shortcomings.”
He jokingly tugs on the sketchbook, but I smack his hands away. I fall onto my back and laugh into the sky. My hands clutch my gift to my chest, still shocked Liam did something so considerate.
Liam cracks open his book and lies down on the blanket. I want to hold on to this moment forever, so I sit and flip my sketchbook to the first page, opening the pack of fancy charcoal he bought. The rest of the afternoon is spent with me sketching a picture of Liam reading his book. I never want to forget the feeling of him buying into my passion and believing in me.
He doesn’t ask to see my drawing, giving me privacy I didn’t realize I needed. We hang out together for hours on the grass.
While sketching, my mind takes off, thinking of my major and resenting how constrained I feel. Some of my fingers cramp but I continue because I crave the burning sensation in my chest. My passion grows from an ember into a flame, tiny yet tangible, requiring further exploration and discovery.
I forgot how much art fuels me. How running my fingers across the gritty textured paper and smudging perfectly drawn charcoal reminds me of finding beauty in imperfection.
My hand lingers on my drawing of a handsome Liam. Unlike me, he doesn’t seek an unattainable goal of perfectionism. We both carry different burdens. Liam strives for success with his team and proving others wrong while letting go of a past haunting him. I’m burdened by both my expectations and the ones set by my father, unachievable and sucking the life from me slowly.
I flip the page, looking at the blank paper behind the drawing of Liam. It’s symbolic of how I feel about my life’s direction, of the pressure placed on me, of how empty I feel when I think of my future. It reminds me of my distaste for pursuing a degree I have no interest in because I struggle to be perfect, responsible, and making others happy. With those unreasonable expectations comes a numbness I’ve grown accustomed to.
My fingers twitch, and before I know what I’m doing, I swipe my dirty hands all over the clean sheet. Marking it, smudging it, making it flawed.
It’s everything I want to be while being everything I fear becoming.
When we go to pack up the blanket, I give Liam another hug. “Thank you for believing in me and reminding me of something I thought was long forgotten. I can’t express what that means to me.” My throat closes up.
He says nothing because he doesn’t need to. The way his arms tighten around me and the kiss he leaves on the top of my head say everything.
