He starts to draw again in the upper left corner of the paper. “It’s the opposite of this.”
He’s drawn a stick figure.
“A stick figure is instantly recognizable, sure. Butneverhonest.”
Five
“I’m an artiste!”I say with a twirl of my barstool. Raffi has met me for a drink the night after art class and I amstillriding. a. high. “Seriously. Don’t let your fears get the best of you. Try something new, kids. Take life by the horns!”
“This is heady stuff,” he says to me, eyeing my general manic-ness.
“Maybe I reallyhavebeen a heretofore untapped genius.”
“Draw a cat.” He’s slid a bar napkin and pen toward me.
I accidentally tear the napkin with the pen and then draw what looks like a potato with an oddly pirate-ish flair. “There.”
“Wow. I think I just found my next tattoo.”
“Okay, okay, so maybe I’m not anartiste.Maybe it’s not the drawing part. It’s just the trying-something-I-was-scared-of part.” As soon as I’ve said it, I feel a little deflated. Because the drawing part was really cool. Especially what Daniel had to say about it. I’m about to try to explain the stick figure thing when I take my first really good look at Raff since I got here. “Hey, are you all right?”
As soon as I ask, he crumples forward onto the bar. “I’m terrible. I ran into Marine at Dirtbag.”
“Oh, Raff.” I put a hand between his shoulder blades. “Did you get the number 7 or the number 9?” Dirtbag is our favorite sandwich joint in the city and I can only hope it isn’t forever sullied for him by the unexpected appearance of his ex.
“I panicked and got the number 4!”
“The number 4 is good!”
“Sheseemed good.”
“I’m sorry.” I rub his back a little more. Marine is the only nice person that Raffi has ever dated. She never picked on him or manipulated him, she thought he was funny and hot, and she liked spending time with me and Vin. But Raff got a little too obsessed with a personal trainer he met in a bar in Queens (as he’s known to do) and Marine just got fed up. When she dumped him, she told him she didn’t want to be with someone who made her nervous all the time. She wanted to be with someone who was happy with what he had.
This was two years ago and Raff’s missed her ever since.
“She looked cute, too,” he grumps, taking a big swig of beer. “She was wearing a sweater that made me want to go camping with her.”
I get a tingly feeling on the back of my neck and spin on my stool, only to find Lauro eyeing me from a booth in the corner. Imighthave picked this bar because I happened to hear Lauro talking about it at class last night, so it’s not atotalshocker to have run into him. I wave and he grins. Then he lifts one of his feet out the side of the booth and gestures vigorously. He’s mouthing words at me and I’m pretty sure it’sWhere are your knee socks?
I give him a friendly thumbs-down and a smile and then spin back to Raff.
“Do you know that guy? JesusChrist,he’s hot. Do you thinkIcould pull off a mesh shirt?”
“Yes, and…actually, yes. I think chest hair and mesh would be a good look for you. He’s in my art class.”
He’s still looking over my shoulder toward Lauro. “Well, break me off a piece of that Kit Kat bar.”
“I had my suspicions but now that I know you’re this attracted to him I’m positive he’s a fuckboy.”
“Who cares? Fuckboys are fun.”
“Raff.” I lay a hand on his arm. He’s lonely and we both know it. His fuckboy proclivities are not helping. He flips his hand up to give my hand a squeeze and when he does I get a clear view of the long, meaty scar down his left forearm. There are pinpricks dotting along either side of the main scar from the stitches. “Hey, it’s looking good!”
He cocks his head to one side. “You think?”
“Oh, definitely,” Lauro says as he cozies up to the bar beside me. “Scars are hot. Fancy seeing you here, Roz. Tequila soda, please. Can I buy you two a drink?”
The bartender waits and I make eye contact with Raff and shrug.
