“You’re serious about her.” My lips part, ready to answer, then I realise he didn’t frame it as a question. His eyes rest on me but they’re unfocused. I don’t know if he’s seeing me at all. “Good,” he finally adds. “I’ve been hoping you’d find someone.”
“It’s early days.”
His eyes crinkle as he grins. “Those can be some of the best days.” He drains the last of his beer, sets the empty on the table, then gets to his feet. “Come on, then.”
“What?” I stand, filled with confusion. “Where are we going?”
“To the studio so you can show me your girlfriend’s painting.”
Dad is tenser than I am when we reach the door and I punch in the code. He hesitates at the entrance while I walk inside, flicking on the lights and moving to Avon’s canvas.
“She’s only been working on this for a couple of days,” I say, leaving off that it would have been hours more advanced if I could keep my hands off her. “But it should give you a feel for her style.”
He manages the few short metres from the door, standing with his hands on his hips, eyes darting across the painting. “This is… emotive.”
I smile, picturing the most beautiful girl ever, those big tears trailing down her cheeks or body shaking as she explodes into joyous laughter.
“Yeah, Avon is a big bundle of emotions, and she expresses them well.”
Not just expresses, she owns them.
After a few minutes, he takes out his phone, lining up a shot. “Can you get me photos of her more advanced work?”
Now I’m enrolled in her art class, I can.
“Sure. I’ll send them through tomorrow.” He continues to stare at the work, eyes switching from the canvas to the photo he took while my stomach tightens. “What d’you think?”
“I think if her completed work lives up to the promise shown here, we can probably do better than an endorsement. There are a few gallery contacts I can pass her work to, see if there’s interest.”
“In a show?”
He laughs, reaching over to ruffle my hair like he used to do when I was little. “Not to herself but there’re always mixed shows for up-and-coming talent. If her completed work is to this quality, I’m sure she could earn a few placements.”
I expect him to go but he wanders to the side, head angled, then snaps an image of the painting I set aside to dry. “It’s nice to see you putting your talent to good use again.”
The simple statement floors me. My mouth literally drops open while I struggle for a reply. Then he glances around the room, his face turning to stone as his eyes see the stacks of paintings, all hidden from view.
He heads for the door like he can’t stand another moment in the space.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
AVON
The walkto my locker on Monday morning is ten times longer than usual. Nobody at school knows about the drastic change in my life but it all pulses in my head, in time with my heartbeat, my footsteps.
It takes a monumental effort to glance along the hallway to Zane’s locker. A feat that goes unappreciated because he isn’t there, then my phone buzzes.
Zane
Are we public facing or should I stick to my end of the corridor?
The question makes me scrunch my nose in concentration. In the matter of a few weeks, what started with pain and humiliation has transformed into something real, something meaningful.
Zane has been vulnerable with me, exposing his painful past, encouraging me to share mine. He makes me feel beautiful, wanted.Needed.
Given our inauspicious start, I could never have seen this coming. The richest boy in school discussing whether we should share our relationship status.
The entire concept is surreal.
