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“Really, Lucy? You look at my brother for the first time and wonder if he has a girlfriend? Gross! I am telling you there’s no way in hell that’s possible. Besides, with his busy lifestyle, he doesn’t have the time.”
“Why not? Don’t you want him to?”
“God, I am praying for that to be a reality, but of course, it will only happen in my imagination.”
“And why is that?”
Ella frowned, “What’s with the questions about a girlfriend? Do you like my brother, or something?”
“Me?” I blurted out, my face shocked, “Of course not. Why would you think that?”
“Are you saying he’s not good enough to be your boyfriend?”
“What? I didn’t say —”
“You are asking an awful lot of questions?”
“Oh please, Ella, what are you doing?”
A few seconds later, she burst into another laughter, only this time she walked toward me and grabbed my arm. “Gotcha! Ha ha, I am only teasing, Lucy.” Ella chuckled.
I sighed in relief and held my heart gently, “You really did get me, girl! Man, I haven’t been that nervous in my entire life.”
Ella nodded, giggling, and stepped backward while still holding my arm, “But do you really like him?”
I shook my head negatively, “No, I don’t. I don’t know him enough to say I don’t like him.”
Ella sighed in relief and nodded, “I am glad. I wouldn’t want my best friend to suffer my brother’s ego and misogyny.”
“Of course, I can never subject myself to that, though I also think your brother doesn’t like me that much.”
“He doesn’t like anybody. That’s for a fact.”
“I think he adores you. I could see it the way he looked at you yesterday,” I said, touching her arm slightly while smiling.
“Seems you hit your head somewhere then. He doesn’t like me, not even in the least.”
“I beg to differ. He’s just perfect at hiding and controlling his emotions.”
Ella folded her arms and frowned. “I didn’t know one of your superpowers included the vision of reading people’s thoughts.”
“I am an artist, remember? I can easily know what someone thinks or feels with just their face and body language.” I answered her with a nod.
“I think I have an idea,” Ella said as she moved toward me, held my hand, and we began to move across the yard.
“What’s that?” I asked her, worried something must have happened.
“You see,” she began, clearing her throat, “my brother hates me bringing in strangers to the house.”
I shook my head. “Oh, no wonder he was so pissed.”
“Of course, it will be a futile attempt trying to prove him otherwise, so I devised this idea of telling him that you are an artist.”
“Of course, I am an artist.”
She nodded, “Yes, I know, but this time when he insists on knowing who you are, you will tell him I brought you over to help make a live portrait of Mother.”
The idea seemed well enough, but I doubted the man would fall for it, “Do you think your brother will believe it?”
