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“I am. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.” She gave me a knowing smile. This woman could be fun. Noah was still a bit stiff and had a lot of work to do in terms of her artistic confidence, but she could be fun.
“Once in a lifetime,” I agreed as I stared at her.
Noah tilted her head to the side. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Just…realizing something.”
“That it’s going to be a long six months?”
I nodded. “Something like that.”
Chapter Seven
Noah
I gawked at my reflection as Amaya ran back and forth behind me. She desperately hunted for her makeup bag, trying to beat the rant ready to roll off my tongue.
Her bathroom was overrun with mountains of plastic storage boxes. I wasn’t sure how she found the space to get ready in the morning. She had the master bath, so cluttering it was a concerning achievement.
"Amaya," I drew out her name. I sounded like a mother and not a best friend who'd been willing to let her experiment with new body paint last night. "I'm going to need you to figure this out faster."
"Going as fast as I can, I swear. I'm going to fix this." She gave me a quick hug from behind before whizzing by again. "But, just for the record, green has always been your color, and it's a light tint of green. Most people probably wouldn't even notice."
I whipped around to face her. "A light tint of green? I have a meeting today. A very important meeting, where I have to sit across from Sage Montgomery and be seen as better than her in every way. I can't be better than Sage in every way if I look like Shrek." My voice faded into a whimper as I started digging through a box she had tucked in the corner. There had to be something, anything, that'd wash off the paint Amaya promised would disappear in my morning shower.
Amaya and I hadn't been roommates since college. Back then, hanging out with her was like participating in exposure therapy. She liked experimenting with looks, and everyone in her life got caught in the crossfire. Most days, I appreciated it. It was fun walking downtown looking like a minotaur or becoming a fae to attend a baseball game. Something about embarrassing yourself could be healing. Except for today. Today, I would not heal by looking like a troll from under some bridge.
"Hey, if it means anything,– I always thought Shrek was good-looking." Amaya shrugged and paused her search to muse. "Him becoming human and having all those people fawning over him was proof. The facial structure was there, they were just too focused on the green—and probably his smell. Personally, I still preferred his ogre self. All that green meant nothing–"
"Amaya." I scrubbed my hand over my face.
"Sorry, sorry." She hopped back into action. "I know I have some wipes in here somewhere."
My breathing became uneven as I looked at the time. Amaya noticed and nudged me aside so she could take over my box.
"I barely got any sleep last night because of my Inkmic submission." I turned on the sink and splashed cold water on my face. "I don't have time for this. I'm supposed to be preparing for the meeting."
"Wait, you're actually entering that competition?" Amaya looked over her shoulder, worry making her brows wrinkle. "Is that why you're favoring your hand like that?"
"Favoring like what?" I frowned and hid the offending hand behind my back.
"That." Amaya shook her head. "God, Noah, you can't take on more work. Your hand's going to need a break from all the stuff you draw at work."
"My hand will be fine," I promised. "But you know what won't be?"
Amaya scowled and started back digging. The injury she was concerned about was almost a year old. I'd been a bit hard on myself when I couldn't find full-time work, so instead of simply doing my freelance work, I drew to exhaustion. I made up goals and moved the marker anytime I succeeded, because that's what you were supposed to do: push yourself to be better than yesterday. My hand had something to say about it, though. Carpal tunnel was no joke. Recovery took months, but I'd been stronger for it. Now, I did exercises to strengthen the muscles and had regular check-ins with my doctor. So what if my hand ached a bit this morning? That was my norm, something I'd gotten used to, something I could handle.
"Your hands are your literal money makers." Amaya pulled up a step stool as she came to my side, and I winced at the cold feel of the wipe she mashed onto my cheek.
“You fuck those up, and you're done." She wiped my face, and thank God, green stained the wipe. "Then what? Move back with your mom? Have dinner with your passive aggressive sister every week? Wonder what life would have been like if you hadn't pushed yourself to the brink of collapse? Deal with the world falling into darkness because your art no longer provides us with light?"
I laughed. "You are too much. Yes, please, stoke the fires of my ego."
"I'm serious." Amaya playfully slapped the edge of the wipe against my chin. "You keep fucking around, and you're going to find out."
"I'm fine." I snatched the wipe from her and started on the other half of my face. Things were looking up. "I'm taking care of my hand."
Amaya sighed. "I really hated seeing you in that kind of pain, Noah."
