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“There is just something about the way you give assurances. When you just said it, I really did feel like everything was going to be all right.” Arsen smiled. If only I could give such assurances to myself, Rory thought, though outwardly she flashed a smile at Arsen.
They must’ve sat by the counter and chatted for more than an hour, but to Rory it seemed like minutes. She was right about Arsen. There was certainly more to him than met the eye. Despite his perfect, muscular, rebellious good looks, he most certainly wasn’t your average, spoiled rockstar. The time went so fast, it wasn’t until her stomach made grumbling noises that she realized that it was beyond lunch time.
Rory wondered if she should order some food, but Arsen insisted that they head to the kitchen and make something themselves. To her surprise, both of them did actually throw together quite a sumptuous meal. Even doing chores with him is so much fun.
Things just became interesting when Arsen was around. It didn’t hurt that he had a sharp, sarcastic sense of humor. It also didn’t hurt that the more time she spent with him, the better he looked. I could eat you like an apple, Rory thought to herself as she bit into an actual apple and stole a glance at him. Her naughty thoughts were disturbed when the sound of his voice echoed in her ears.
“Now that we are fed and full, I think we both could use a drink… or five,” he said.
Rory chuckled.
“Every time you come here, you’re always trying to get me drunk. You better not be thinking of taking advantage of me,” Rory smirked.
“Damn. You unraveled my plan. Now I will have to think of some other way to… take advantage of you.” Arsen squinted his eyes and put on an evil smirk. After a few seconds of him holding the pose, Rory was confused if he really meant what he said, but then he broke into a big laughter.
“Chop up some apples, Aurora. I am gonna make you a drink.”
“Aurora? No one calls me Aurora anymore.” At least no one had since Grandma Colleen passed away. It felt nice. Arsen’s presence made Rory realize how accustomed she had gotten to living alone, and yet now that he was here, this beautiful house truly felt like a home.
Back in the kitchen, Arsen refused to let her see what he was up to. He took out pretty much everything that was there in the liquor cabinet and for a moment she was worried, before she remembered that he had indeed worked as a bartender before.
“Here you go.” He handed her a small wine glass that was deep red in color, with tiny apple pieces floating on top. “When I was in Spain, a barista at this completely out of the way, unfashionable bar that I frequented taught me how to make this. La Sangria, señorita.”
Rory wasn’t sure what else she was worried about as the drink was utterly delicious. They sat in the kitchen, talking quietly, sipping on their drinks. Arsen had finished two glasses in the time it took her to finish one.
“Rory. Why don’t you give me a tour of the house?”
“Sure. Let me fill up my glass first.” She winked.
As she filled her glass, Arsen started walking off on his own and as fate would have it, the first room he entered was the space she used every day as working space to chalk out her designs and make prints for the shirts.
“You’re an artist?” He was visibly surprised.
“Well... I dabble.”
“This is much more than dabbling. Wow, there is even more to you than you let on.”
Arsen walked around picking up and scrutinizing different T-shirts.
“These T-shirts are fabulous. Simple, yet… very cool,” Arsen said.
Yeah, that is what everyone says. If they are so stylish then why aren’t I making bank? Rory thought. Annoyed that she had let herself drift off toward gloomy thoughts, she took a big swig of the sangria and shook her head.
“It is as if these T-shirts are making a statement. These’re not just random designs, but it seems to me that the person who created these is trying to say something,” Arsen continued.
Now it was Rory’s turn to be surprised. He had described in a few words what she herself thought about her work, or at least liked to. She could tell that he was not making it up, as he was genuinely going through each and every design of hers.
“These are really incredible. I think I like all of them. Especially this one with the space camper van.”
His genuine appreciation of her work made Rory delirious. Only an artist hungry for adulation knows the worth of every little praise. Her grandmother had encouraged her like this, till her dying day. On days when she was tempted to give it all up for a regular job, her granny had egged her on.
“Which is why I am gifting this T-shirt to you.” She smiled.
“For real? Whoa! That’s so cool.” He was excited. “Y’know, Rory, ever since I was a child, I liked camper vans and I was obsessed with space.” He chuckled. “For a while, I really wanted to be an astronaut. This T-shirt reminds me of my childhood. Thank you for this.”
“My pleasure.” Rory beamed. This was the best compliment for an artist. That others could relate to their work in their own unique way.
Arsen was like a curious child, noticing every little detail of every small thing in the room. Rory found herself reminiscing as she broke through her exterior shell and told Arsen anecdotes and stories about the different objects that populated the room. Memories of her grandmother that she deeply cherished and kept hidden deep inside of her came rushing out and she unabashedly shared them with him. As Rory got lost in her narrative, Arsen listened with patient interest.
