“Maybe.” Probably not. “The emotion?”
Letting out a heavy sigh, Parker looks away from me. “Anger.”
I scan their face. Red and black are anger. Noted. “Was it cathartic?”
“Painting anger?” Parker asks, glancing at me through their thick lashes.
“Yeah. Seems like it would be. Being able to get all that emotion out on a canvas. Just purging it from your body.”
Parker nods slowly. “Yeah…” They pause, eyes landing somewhere on the wall opposite us. “It’s like… when I’m painting, I’m not thinking, you know? All I have to do is feel. It’s like me, Parker, isn’t doing the work. Sure, it’s my hand. And it’s my paintbrush. But it’s notme.It’s like someone else takes over.”
I love listening to them talk about their art. I only wish they were a little more open about it, but I also get that it’s probably a deeply personal thing. “That’s fascinating.”
Whipping their head around quickly, Parker glares at me. “You don’t have to make fun of me.”
“I’m not. Not at all. Itisfascinating. I don’t have an artistic bone in my body. It’s really awesome to listen to your process.”
Eyeing me, they shift on the couch. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“You introduced yourself with your pronouns. Why?”
I’m a little taken aback at the quick subject change. I get Parker to open up the smallest bit with their art, and they shut me right back down. It’s not a big deal, though. “My thirteen-year-old sibling—Kai—is nonbinary. I try to make it a habit to never assume pronouns.”
Parker watches me for a second, then nods. “Oh. Well, I truly appreciate it. It’s… exhausting, constantly correcting people.”
I nod. “Yeah, Kai says it would be easier if they could just wear a sign on their forehead.”
That gets a chuckle from Parker. “Yeah, but then you’re broadcasting to all the assholes too.” They smile. “West seemed really good about it, though.”
I can’t help but grin. “Yeah, West is a really good guy.”
“Yeah,” Parker says, sighing. “Definitely into my best friend Darcy, though.”
Biting the inside of my cheek, I try to fight a smile. Yeah, I clocked that. If the way he was very obviously ogling all our teammates in the locker room, asking about football pants, didn’t give it away, the way he talks about Darcy would have, but that’s not my business to share. “You think so?”
“If he’s not, I’ll be incredibly surprised.”
I open my mouth to respond when a knock at the door silences me. I cock my head to the side. “Expecting company?”
“Fuck.” Parker stands, looking around in what seems like panic. “It’s the dude.”
“The dude?” I ask, confused.
“Yes. The dude who was ogling you.”
That clears up exactly nothing. “What?”
Parker sighs, running a hand through their hair. “That guy who ran into me and knocked all my art supplies everywhere?” I nod, somewhat following. “He was ogling my sketch of you. And then a few days later, he ran right into me and spilled my coffee all over my dress. Anyway,” Parker continues. “He gave me his hoodie, which was nice. But I told him to come pick it up tonight, and I totally forgot.”
There’s another knock as I piece things together.
Wait.
Landonwas the person ogling me?
Interesting.
