I lift my glass up, gesturing around us. It’s once again that dreamlike hour between day and night. There’s enough sun to work by but not enough to cause a glare on the paper as I draft out potential concepts for my collection. When sketching by hand, like I am now, I draw and outline in pen, block out main colors in marker and then add detail and shading with colored pencils. Designing digitally in Illustrator on my iPad later on in the process is an entirely different ballgame.
“Though,” I go on to tell Marco, “there isonething that could make these work conditions even more ideal.”
He shoots me a suspicious side-eye. “Do not say cheese.”
“I’m saying cheese.”
Marco slams his pen down. “You need to stop distracting me! How am I supposed to be productive with you dangling a come-hither charcuterie board in front of my face?”
“I’m merely a friend asking another friend if they want a snack.”
“Oh please,” he seethes. “You’re an ill-intentioned dairymaid and I refuse to fall victim to your wily tricks.”
“So that’s a no, then?” I ask.
“Of course it’s not a no. I want the cheese, but nothing too heavy. Professor Leoni is cooking tonight.”
“I’ll secure us the lightest of all possible cheeses.”
I hop out of my lounger, and two minutes later my arms are filled with provolone and four slices of Italian bread when I hear the front door open and close. Looking down at the loot I’m carrying, I feel suddenly guilty for the professor to find me with this plethora of goodies right before she’s about to prepare a meal for us. In a wave of panic I hit the deck, crouching behind the kitchen island as the steady rumble of footsteps approaches the kitchen. It’s then that I catch the sound of a voice. A voice that’s distinctly not Professor Leoni’s.
“I hear you,” Matt says in his typically low tone. For a terrifying second I think he’s talking to me, but as he continues, I realize he’s on the phone. “I’m aware that I said I’d get it to you tomorrow, but I’m going to need more time.”
He’s inside the kitchen now, opening the refrigerator and rattling jars as he shifts things around. I hold my breath and stay completely still. The last thing I need is for Matt to find me holed up on the floor eavesdropping. A second later the refrigerator door closes with a thud.
“What do you want me to do, Nick? Some frenzied stalker broke my computer while she was looking for her ex, and I lost eighty percent of my work.”
I’m going to go ahead and assume that I’m the frenzied stalker in this scenario.
“I know I should have backed up the file,” he says, “but I didn’t, so I need more time.” He pauses, seemingly listening to the unfortunate soul who’s on the other side of the call. “It is what it is. And as an added bonus, the nightmare of a tourist who broke my computer is one of the students who’s staying in my mom’s house. There’s three of them, and they’re constantly popping up all over the place like a pack of overstimulated meerkats. I have no idea how the one who broke my computer is even a student since she’s obviously older than the other two, but here she is. It’s like that movie where Drew Barrymore pretends to be in high school.”
Right. So let the record show that I very well might beat this pathological asshat to death with my chunk of provolone. It’ll be the first ever murder committed via cheese curd and I’m ready to make history.
First of all,Never Been Kissedis a goddamned masterpiece. Second of all, the three of us are at the internship from 9:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. daily so he barely ever sees us, let alone sees us popping upall over the place, and third of all, if Iwasa meerkat, I would rocket launch out of my hidey-hole right now with the sole purpose of biting his bony, hairy ankle off.
“It’ll be fine,” he says, his voice fading as he exits the kitchen in the direction of the living room. “They’ll be gone in a couple of weeks, and then it will be business as usual.”
Now safely alone, my knees crack as I slowly stand up, and a mixture of emotions flurry through me. Embarrassment and rage are the dominant players. Embarrassment for me, steaming-hot rage for Matt. I shouldn’t be embarrassed. In fact, I won’t allow it. Yeah, I’m an older student, but so what? So because I veered off course for a few years I should have to forfeit pursuing my dreams? Eff that.
I choose instead to focus on my rage, which now surprisingly feels tinged with disappointment. Why I’m disappointed in Matt, I have no idea, since he’s been one step up from an evil gremlin from the start, but it still stings to hear him take nasty personal digs at me out loud. I get that our interactions have been far from ideal, but I’m a decent person. And granted, I’m not for everyone. No one is universally liked, save for Bob Ross, our eternal lord of the landscapes, but still, I guess I didn’t fully grasp that Matt disliked me to the degree that he obviously does.
I’ve yet to come out of my haze when Marco steps inside from the terrace, carrying his empty glass and sketchbook. “It’s starting to get dark out there. Multitalented as I am, night vision is one skill I’ve yet to master.”
Never being one to hide my emotions well, I know Marco instantly gauges my discomfort as he looks over at me.
“What’s wrong?” he asks. “If we’re out of cheese, there’s no reason to be upset. I’m honestly not even hungry.”
“It’s not that, it’s just...” My words trail off as I once again hear footsteps approaching from the living room behind me. Does Matt think he can stroll in here and say hello like he didn’t just make fun of me to a total stranger? That would be a hell no.
His footsteps grow closer, and the sound makes me spring into action. I leap forward to stand in front of Marco. I grab his shoulders and pull him forward to switch places with me, leaving him standing with his back to the living room while I have a clear view of the walkway over his shoulder. Leaning in, I feverishly whisper, “Disregard or dramatically elaborate on whatever it is I’m about to say.”
“What?” he asks, understandably lost. Just then, I spot Matt’s shadow in the doorway. He’s about to walk inside and I take a deep breath.
It’s showtime.
“I’m in love with him, Marco! I know that it’s wrong and I know that I shouldn’t, but I’m in love with Matt and deep down, I know that he’s in love with me, too.”
Marco’s eyes nearly bug out of his head. “I’m sorry, what?”
