I was just Molly,remember? And he was Ezra F-something Baptiste.
I was just a girltrying to figure out what the hell I was doing with my life. And he waseverything smooth and successful. He’d already figured out life. He’d alreadyaccomplished what he’d set out to do.
Oh my god.We were too different. This would never work.
It couldn’t.
I was in so farover my head, I was already drowning and we’d only just put our feet in thewater.
Spinning around toface the white wall, I tried to stay the panic rising up inside me like a tidalwave. My chest hurt as I struggled to even out my breathing. My hands startedshaking and I reflexively reached for a paintbrush.
There, that feels better.
When my heartbeatdidn’t slow, I grabbed my palette too. I’d asked Ezra to repaint this wallbefore I started my mural, so a fresh coat of white gleamed back at me, like alighthouse in the middle of a storm. A beacon calling me to safer waters.
I couldn’t analyzeEzra right now without freaking out. I couldn’t wrap my head around ourconversation or his kisses or anything that had to do with him having feelingsfor me.
I pushed my rampantthoughts out of my head and turned them into an endless flow of inspirationinstead. His dark hair, those endless eyes, his mysterious smile that made mysoul move in a way that nothing else ever had turned into a relentless visionthat I couldn’t wait to chase.
After I’d sketcheda rough outline with pencil, I returned to my palette. Reaching for theacrylics I’d bought just for this project, I spread them out on my palette andbegan mixing the right shades. When I finally reached for my paintbrush,something significant settled inside me, lessening my fears and strengtheningmy spirit.
Painting became theprotective cocoon that rescued me from the trembling fear I only just kept atbay. Ezra stopped by later to ask if I wanted to eat lunch with him, but Icouldn’t give up painting. I told him I was in the zone, but I would take araincheck.
The truth was I’donly bought myself time. I had no idea if I would take a raincheck. I had noidea what I was doing at all with my life. Except for this mural, my lifesuddenly felt very much like it was careening out of control.
I needed to dosomething about that. Later. When I could think and obsess and freak out inprivate.
For now, I wasgoing to paint.
Chapter Nineteen
“We need to talk.”
Instantly I wasangry. Just like that I was bubbling with silent rage, my teeth dripping withvenom, my claws growing and curling and preparing, ready for war. It was thevoice. And the person. And every single thing about him.
I slowly lifted myglare to find the Little Tucker hovering over me. I had been in the middle of agraphic and he’d interrupted just as I was trying to place the emblem in theexact spot to look life changing. But his voice had startled me enough that myhand had jerked, dragging it to the upper left corner, far away from my target.He’d ruined thirty minutes of work.
I contemplatedignoring him as I gripped the mouse with refreshed determination. Earlier inthe week I’d sent an email to Doris from HR, explaining what had happened withHenry and how I felt harassed by him on an almost daily basis. I hadn’texpected an immediate return email since she was still on her cruise, but twohours later she’d responded. By telling me that it sounded like a colossalmisunderstanding and that I should respectfully bring up the matter with him ifI ever felt uncomfortable again. She was confident we could work things outwithout her. She was positive Henry would never do it again.She wanted meto leave her the hell alone so she could get back to sun tanning on the lidodeck.
“About what?” Iasked as I went back to staring at the computer screen. Graphic development wasten percent skill, twenty percent taste, thirty percent ability to keep yourhand steady and three hundred percent mentally willing everything into place.
The numbers work. Don’t ask questions.
“I haven’t gottenyour Black Soul updates, sweet cheeks,” he snarled. “I needed them three hoursago and they’re nowhere to be seen.”
A nervous feelingticked inside me. I had ignored an email from Henry this morning in favor ofworking on Ezra’s stuff all day. I was starting to make headway with hiswebsites so I was feeling extra inspired to do something that I could show him.
Since I’d beenavoiding Ezra since Saturday, I was still fuzzy on when that would be. Sometimein the very distant, very ambiguous future, whenever I worked up the courage tosee him again, he was going to be so impressed.
To be fair, hehadn’t made a huge effort to reach out to me either, so I felt vindicated. In likea really depressing way.
Victory!As I cried into my ice cream every night.
Not kidding.Just kidding.
Instead of dwellingon my ability to ruin every good thing, I’d thrown myself entirely into hisproject so I could impress him with my design genius. I would then proceed toignore him from now until the end of time.
Fine, I had beenthe one to retreat Saturday, slinking out of Bianca without saying goodbye. Andfine, I hadn’t made any effort to reach out to him or email him or text him ortry to have any contact with him whatsoever since then. But it was Wednesday.Wednesday! He’d said he liked me and then let this go until Wednesday withouteven a work email!
