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He looked completely unrepentant. “You know when you get a nickname in sports, it’s a sign of respect.”
“Uh-huh.” She arched a brow at him. “I bet that depends on the nickname.”
He laughed and took the grocery bag from her. “True. Butfreshmanisn’t an insult, just a statement of fact.” He peeked inside. “Ooh, ice cream. And Oreos. I told you that you didn’t need to bring anything.”
“Movie nights with no dessert are sad movie nights. And everything is better with ice cream.”
“Ice cream?” Lennox leaned out the doorway, sending O’Neal a smile that could’ve melted the ice cream in its carton.
“And cookies,” Auden added, handing the bag to Lennox.
Lennox peeked inside. “Nice.”
“I figured vanilla was safe,” she added. “I didn’t know what y’all liked.”
Lennox made a sound in the back of his throat, some sort of half-laugh half-choke, and then smiled toward Auden. “Vanilla is a good place to start. Then you can add whatever kind of extra flavors you want.”
Auden rolled his eyes and then turned back toward O’Neal. “Come on in. Pizza should be here any minute. Len, get the ice cream into the freezer.”
Lennox headed inside with the bag, and O’Neal followed.
“Welcome to our humble abode,” Auden said.
O’Neal stepped into the main room, which was painted all white and had a mishmash of furniture, living room stuff on the left, a small dining table on the right, a drafting-style desk that she assumed was Len’s. The floors were well-worn wood, and things looked surprisingly clean for two college guys. But what caught her eye was a wall in the living room that was striped with clotheslines. Postcard-sized black-and-white drawings hung from them and fluttered in the draft coming in from the door.
She walked toward the postcards to get a better look as Auden shut the door. Her gaze scanned over the drawings—a woman’s face, a bird stretching its wings, a decrepit barn—then her attention landed on a postcard at the end of one of the lines. It was of a bare-chested man sleeping, his face turned away, hair falling across his face, the sheets draped low over his waist, barely concealing what was beneath. The lines of the drawing were so intricate and precise, so lifelike, that she almost expected the man to roll over and look at her.
“Lennox keeps the place classy with his art wall.”
O’Neal startled slightly, having not heard Auden walk up behind her. “They’re beautiful.”
“Yeah.” He touched the clothesline, making it bounce a little. “He carries these cards everywhere and sketches when something catches his attention.”
Her gaze lingered on the man in bed, awareness dawning and awkwardness winding through her. Lennox drew what he saw. Now she knew why she’d been most captured by this one. It was Auden caught in sleep.
“He’s really talented,” she said, turning around so quickly she almost bumped into Auden.
“He is,” he said with a nod. “And prolific. The wall is ever-changing. When he draws something new, he just tosses out an old one and replaces it.”
She gasped. “Likein the trash?”
Lennox stepped out of the kitchen. “Not in the trash. I don’t care if they do end up there. I’m sure most do. But I like the idea of ephemeral art.”
“Ephemeral,” she said, leaning against the back of the couch.
The doorbell rang, and Auden turned. “I got it. O’Neal, feel free to tell him you don’t want an art lesson.”
She waved off Auden. “No, I’m curious.”
Lennox smiled and came over to her, looking toward the art wall. “Usually the term ephemeral is applied to art created in nature that eventually washes away or to a one-time performance or something. Art that is only there for a moment in time and then disappears. But I’m experimenting with the idea with my drawings. So I’ll leave them places. On a park bench, on a table at a restaurant, on the floor of a classroom. Or I’ll give them away to friends and strangers and never ask what they’re going to do with them.”
“But you could sell these,” she said, gazing at the wall again. “They’re really…captivating.”
Lennox gave her a little smile, looking surprisingly humble. “Thanks. But I like the idea that they’ll only exist for a limited amount of time. It’s how life is. You only get to experience the good stuff, the beautiful stuff for a tiny sliver of time. That perfect sunset. A childhood friendship. A first kiss. But those moments are there and then they’re gone, slipping through your fingers whether you like it or not. So you have to appreciate the beauty when it’s in front of you and be thankful you had the experience instead of being sad you can’t keep it.”
The words drifted over her, landing softly but making her feel heavy.
He laughed under his breath. “And soon, I’m going to sound like some inspirational quote on a T-shirt.Don’t be sad it’s over, be happy you were there.Ugh. Sorry. Auden’s right about art students. We’re insufferable.”
