“Noah, please,” I plead. “Just look.” I push my phone in front of his face and watch as he registers the immensity of the situation, his face falling slack. Thousands of followers, thousands of likes. All for my art.
“What the hell?” he asks, grabbing my phone to get a closer look. “Maeve, this is incredible.”
I try not to squeal and fail miraculously. “I know!”
His gaze whips to mine, asking, “What did you do?”
“After my livestream yesterday afternoon? Nothing!” I rattle my head, all the excitement making me woozy again. “Absolutely nothing.”
“This is crazy.” His blue eyes are wide and wild. “We have to celebrate! And you absolutely have to post your painting from yesterday. They’ll want to see it.”
“You think?” I ask around my fingers as I pick at my chapped lips.
His responding smile is infectious. “Babe, Iknow. Come on, if we hurry, we can post it before your first class.”
This time, it’s my turn to devour his beautiful face, just for a few precious moments, before he puts the car in drive and speeds down the street.
Several photos and a video of my abstract painting join the ether moments before the start of my first class of the day.
“I’m so proud of you,” Noah says as hewalks backward down the hall. His first class of the day won’t start for another thirty minutes.
“Couldn’t do it without you,” I reply. An exquisite ache had taken up residence in the muscles of my cheeks, making the words come out garbled. He understands my meaning anyway, chuckling to himself before turning to jog toward the exit.
Compelled like metal to a magnet, I pull out my phone and watch in awe for a moment as the views, comments, and likes on my posts climb higher and higher.
Beautiful!
You’re so talented.
Are you going to add this one to your store? I NEED a print of it!
So jealous!
I wish I could paint like this.
You’re amazing!
They go on and on. I can barely breathe through the disbelief compressing my chest, but I force myself to take one small inhale and one large, shaky exhale before closing out the apps and texting Alexis the good news. She’ll be so excited for me, but also pissed if I let her discover the sudden traffic my pages are attracting before telling her myself.
A softwhooshtone later and I’m shoving my phone into my jacket pocket and readjusting my backpack on my shoulder.
“Hi Maeve,” someone with colorful tattoos on their arms calls out at me from across the hall.
“Hi,” I reply, not quite making eye contact. I don’t think I’ve ever talked to them before. I don’t even know if they’re in any of my classes.
“Your paintings are amazing.”
My mouth opens and closes a few times before words, ineloquent though they may be, finally come out. “I—uh, thanks.”
I’m called to three more times on the short walk to my gen ed English class. All of them compliment my art, grinning as if they know me. As ifIknow them. My vision swirls as I take my seat in class. I can’t hear the professor’s lecture over the deafening beat of my pulse in my ears. Stunned, I feign taking notes, barely able to concentrate enough to remember to breathe, let alone learn about Shakespeare or whoever it is we’re discussing today.
After the hour’s up, I walk to my next class in a daze. More people talk to me. I try not to be awkward, but I’ve never received this much attention before. It’s wonderful, and overwhelming. I don’t know how to act. What do I do with my face? Or my damn hands?
My next class is thankfully with Noah. He waves me over when he sees me enter the lecture hall. I drift toward him and take a seat on his right.
He says, rather smugly, “I was just telling Trey how you’re an internet sensation now.”
Flames lick at my cheeks. “Pshh, yeah right.”
