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8
COOPER
The first thingAddie does when we step inside our rental is abandon her bag on the tiled floor by the door and take off through the back. She’s a blur of pastel hair and loud giggles as she folds her arms around her front, and before I can get a grasp of what she’s doing, she has her shirt pulled off, sending it soaring through the warm Spanish air.
Stunned, I blink at the pale skin of her back and the lacey pink strap wrapped around her middle. Her tall, slim frame flies toward the pool before sinking deep into the water with a loud splash.
As if hit with a gush of water, I snap out of it, diverting my gaze with a turn of my head. I stare at the wicker armchair in the living room instead, at all the pale yellow and red pillows and abundance of green plants spread along the room. The handles of our suitcases are slick with the sweat from my palms when I lean them against the wall and move through the house.
The main room is snug but has been decorated to enhance the space. A TV rests on the stand at the front of the room, with two swinging doors adorned with a lattice design. Along with the wicker chair, there’s a sofa with wood arms and soft green cushions, a tall floor lamp tucked in the corner, and a rug with blue and orange tile designs.
From the living room, I move to the kitchen, taking in the bright colours and small sitting table with two chairs. Down the hall, two bedrooms sit opposite one another. I give the bigger of the two to Adalyn and then bring our luggage from the entry. As soon as I set my suitcase on the edge of the double bed, I exhale a long breath and sit beside it.
The suddenness of this trip has stunted my ability to think any of this through the way I usually would. Hell, I don’t even remember where we’re going next or what comes after it. I tried to pay attention to what Adalyn was telling me that night in my living room, but I couldn’t grasp more than a few words. In one ear and out the other.
She worked out my tickets and everything else I needed. All I did was hand her my credit card and wince at its silent whimper.
But now, sitting alone in silence for the first time since I left my house, my mind is running laps. I want to scold myself for agreeing to this so easily, knowing just how busy my summer was supposed to be. Dad was wrong when he said I would have been spending it in my basement painting, and I guess that’s on me.
I was supposed to be creating a syllabus for my first year as a university professor, but I’m here instead. Sitting in a closet-sized bedroom in Madrid while my best friend’s little sister swims out back in the pool. Nobody knows I was offered the art professor position at my old university, and I’m not sure why I haven’t shared that with anyone yet.
Maybe it’s fear at the idea of it being taken from me if I get too excited, and that’s a guarantee once I tell my family. They’ll hype it up to the point where I won’t be able to keep a level head about it. It’s too risky to tell them so soon, as if I’ll have the chance to do so now with an ocean between us.
Teaching art at this high of a level has always been my dream. The goal I worked toward my entire life. Art isn’t just something I like to do. It’s a living thing inside of me. It’s my passion, my heart and soul. For as long as I remember, me and art have been a joint entity.
It kept me company when I would hide in the unfamiliar room at my dad’s house the first days after my mom left me. Everything was so new back then, and while I don’t remember too much from the early days, given I was so young, I remember drawing.
Art was my escape back then, and even after I had begun to warm up to the man I came to know as my father, I could never get myself to let it go.
That’s the beauty of it, though. Art doesn’t have to be tied to one specific emotion. One problem in your life. It’s something that can heal any wound. Excite any soul. Simply put . . . it’s magic.
“You look lost in your thoughts.”
I snap my head toward the door and find Adalyn leaning in the doorway with a towel wrapped tight around her body, her arms above her as she grips the frame. A laugh rumbles through my chest when she notices my staring and pops a hip.
“Did you know that standing in a doorway like this is one of the hottest things a guy can do?” she adds.
“Can’t say that I did. It looks uncomfortable.”
She rolls her eyes and flexes her biceps. “That’s only because I’m barely tall enough. My calves have never been stretched so tight.”
Her pink towel is hanging on for dear life as she continues to keep her arms outstretched, and I refuse to look down at said stretched calves. For my own sanity, I hope she kept her bra and underwear on after she went into the pool on the off chance the towel slips.
“Did you have a nice swim?”
“Yes. The water was warm. I was waiting to see if you’d join me, but when you didn’t, I figured you might have decided on taking a nap. You didn’t sleep much on the plane.”
“Surprisingly, I’m not tired. I am hungry, though.”
Her eyes spark. “Wanna go explore? We can find somewhere to eat while we’re out.”
Her excitement makes it impossible to say no. It’s beautiful how open she is with her feelings. Every emotion is always on display for those who know what they’re looking for. My fingers itch to sketch the way she’s looking at me right now, like I just gave her her new favourite gift.
“Sure. Just let me change,” I tell her.
I’m unprepared for the kiss she lays on my cheek before slipping away and heading out the door as if it never happened.
* * *
