There are a few students in my art classes that I talk to at the local community college I attend, but the only person I hang out with outside of classes is Noah, my childhood friend-turned-boyfriend. Sometimes I’ll hang out with other people that run in Noah’s circles––jocks and gamers mostly––when he invites me along to parties or tournaments, but that’s been happening less and less recently. I think he’s figured out that I rarely enjoy myself around his crowd. They don’t get me, just like I don’t get them.
Noah is the exception, though. He respects me, appreciates me, and encourages every single one of my dreams, artistic or not. When I’m around him, I never feel overlooked or forgotten. I can talk about anything and don’t have to worry about being judged or questioned or held to some impossible standard. With Noah, I’m enough, just as I am.
And it’severything.
“Sorry for making you wait, sweetheart,” Mom coos, interrupting my thoughts. I push off the van door that I was leaning against as she unlocks the car.
“It’s fine,” I mutter as I open the door and climb into the back seat once more.
“I gave Gray a hug for you,” Gideon tells me with a smile. Helooks so much like Dad with his dark brown hair and bright green eyes, it makes my chest feel too small to hold the breath I’d taken.
“Good,” I say while rustling his hair. “You’re better at giving hugs than I am anyway.”
“Yeah, I am,” he agrees with a giggle.
Dad asks as he buckles himself in, “Who’s ready for burgers?”
I grumble under my breath while everyone else responds with a resounding, “Me!”
If the restaurant they pick doesn’t have a vegetarian option, it looks like I’ll be having french fries for dinner again tonight.
The perfect end to the perfect day.
397%
Imust’ve fallen asleep watching Phantom’s old painting videos again because my phone is on my chest when I wake up. My suspicions are confirmed when I check it and find the battery dead. Wiping remnants of sleep from my eyes, I pop my phone on to charge and haul myself out of bed, stumbling toward the bathroom. Everly starts throwing a tantrum down the hall, her high-pitched screams making my ears feel like they’re bleeding. My fingernails claw against the wall I was leaning against for balance, every cell of my body hating the noise. In the bathroom, I relieve myself and take a shower, grateful for the much-needed ambient noise. The hot water reinvigorates my senses and wakes my groggy mind.
Wrapped in a plush teal-colored towel, I wipe thick condensation from the mirror above the vanity. The reflection staring back at me today is much happier. Her dark green eyes are brighter and free of tears, freckled cheeks pink from the heat. Her mouth is bent in a small smile.
Today will be a good day.
Absentmindedly, I go through my morning routine as I sing along to the Taylor Swift vinyl record blaring from atop my chest of drawers, choosing an ensemble of black canvas high-top sneakers and off-white overalls over a form-fitting black turtleneck croptop. After layering a few dainty gold necklaces around my neck, I push several chunky gold rings onto my messily polished fingers. My roots tug at my scalp as I twist my hair into a messy bun on top of my head. I don’t want it getting in my way today.
The charger releases with asnapas I grab my phone off the nightstand. I cut the music off and toss my coveralls in my already too-full backpack before dashing down the stairs, almost falling on my ass as I do so.
“And why, exactly, are you running in my house?” Dad demands with a furrowed brow, looking more amused than serious as he walks past me with a laundry basket against his hip.
I grip the banister to steady myself. “Sorry, Noah’s picking me up for class today.”
Dad nods as he readjusts his grip on the overflowing hamper.
“I’ll be getting home late this afternoon too. I want to finish up a painting for class.”
“Sure. Just be home for dinner at five.”
I murmur a quick, “Will do,” as I weave my way past him, walking down the hall and into the kitchen. Dad already has our breakfast and lunches ready. I grab a blueberry muffin from a plate near the stove and take a big bite. It’s still warm, the sugary crumbs melting on my tongue in an instant. They must have just come out of the oven. “Delicious, Dad. Thank you,” I say after swallowing.
Dad stays home to take care of us all while Mom works long hours as a lawyer. Once upon a time, he was a chef at a five-star restaurant in downtown Chicago, but now he cooks just for us. I’m sure he misses the big, fancy restaurant kitchen, so I always make a point to compliment his food. Maybe it’s overkill, but I can tell he appreciates the praise all the same.
I’m swallowing my final bite when I hear Noah pull into the driveway, a brief honk following the sound of rubber crunching on concrete. A grunt escapes my lips as I heave my boulder of abackpack from where I’d dropped it in the entryway and head out the front door.
Noah’s black SUV is freshly polished and reflects my image like a mirror. He leans over to kiss me as I slide into the passenger side seat, a crisp, clean ‘new car’ smell washing over me like a wave.
“Hey babe,” he says before his lips meet mine. They’re warm and taste like toothpaste—like home.
“Hi,” I reply, grinning wide. “How was your training camp?”
“Great! I placed third in the final scrimmage match.” He puts the car in reverse and backs out of the driveway.
