Page 5 of Painted Truths

My only sibling, an older sister Holly, had died in a hit and run when we were eleven and seven, respectively, and since then, my place in the family had become even more immovable. Unfortunately for me and to the delight of my pious parents, I am being groomed to marry a member of our devout little community in the suburbs of London and will be expected to live a faithful and downright staid life filled with devotion to both our Lord and Saviour. To whomever my parents deemed a proper husband.

I am still utterly devastated over the fact they hadn’t allowed me to attend university, citing that I would primarily be a wife, homemaker, and mother and, as such, it would be “foolhardy to waste” another level of education on me.

Being graciously afforded the privilege of volunteering at a local homeless centre, St. Fintan’s, operated by Father Thomas, is the only bright spot in my life. He’s less judgemental and less old-fashioned than my parents. I love the work we do and have plenty of friends because of my time at the shelter, even though I hate how stifled I am by the life I haven’t chosen.

The life I would never willingly choose.

Through St. Fintan’s, I had come to meet Nola and her partner Josie. However, if my parents knew that I had befriended an openly gay couple, I would be doing penance for months, and I could kiss goodbye to my volunteer work, which would absolutely break my heart.

Nola is one of the kindest souls I’ve ever met, with a wicked sense of humour. She reminds me of my big sister, and I suppose that’s part of why I felt so drawn to her in the first place.

Our paths had initially crossed about six months ago when I was assigned to run a playgroup with some of the homeless kids that stayed at the centre. Nola had been paired with me, and as it was her first day volunteering, I spent most of it explaining how we did things, who was who and where everything was.

By the end of the day, we had become fast friends, and the following day, she invited me to have lunch with her and her partner, whom she neglected to tell me was another woman. My jaw nearly hit the floor when she introduced Josie, or Jo, as she had insisted I call her, and greeted her with a great big resounding kiss on the lips when we met her at a nearby cafe.

It was all due to these two beautiful souls that my eyes had been opened to a whole realm of possibilities, and tonight’s foray into this crazy world was the first of what the girls informed me would be many mini rebellions.

I had never lied to my parents; never once had reason to, though I didn’t tell them that my friends were a cohabiting couple. To my defence, that’s a lie by omission, not an outright lie.

Yeah, Liv, keep telling yourself that.

When I told them I had been invited to Nola’s house overnight for pizza and a movie, they had no reason to say no. After all, I’ve always been a good and respectful daughter, never giving them an ounce of trouble.

Plus, Mum had met Nola many times in the past six months. We’d even had her over to dinner several times, so she had no reason to believe I would ever lie to her.

The night was going so, so well. Of course, we had started the evening with pizza, so that part at least wasn’t a lie.

Keep trying to validate your excuses to yourself, you great big lying liar.

Then we got ready, which involved a lot of stuff I had never done before. There were so many different types of makeup and hair potions and body lotions; I just let the girls have free rein and was honestly blown away with the final result.

They had given me a smoky grey eye with several coats of mascara over my naturally long thick lashes that made my blue eyes stand out. I had a light, natural pink shade on my lips and some rose blush on my cheeks. They had blow-dried my hair and used a whole array of products to define the different shades of blonde.

Jo said it was the “just been fucked” look, and both my friends had giggled contagiously when they saw my already pink cheeks deepen with my natural blush.

After all, profanities are still new to me.

My friends had wanted me to dress in more revealing clothes, but years of being a good girl warred with their wishes, so we’d eventually settled on black leather pants and a black crop top that covered all but a sliver of my flat stomach.

Once we got to the club, the girls told me we were meeting some of their friends, so I was pleasantly surprised to find my dear friend Alex there too. The girls pull both of us out onto the heaving dance floor, and I can’t help the self-satisfied mini smile that I allow to play across my lips at the thought that this is it.

I’m doing it. I’m living my life.

And on my terms.

The thought fills me with joy. A rush of sheer delight, as I’ve never felt, fills me from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. I am simply happy and present in this moment.

When I open my eyes, I lock gazes with the most magnetic human being I have ever seen. Alluring eyes draw me in, holding me in place with their outright fixation on me.

Dark, almost black hair falls across his brow, though he is quick to brush it away in a practised, slightly impatient move. It looks as though it’s a little too long, and I find myself wishing it were my hand running through the length that’s once again fallen forward across his forehead, giving him an almost boyish look.

My smile broadens, and when his lips lift into a smile to match mine, I swear I can feel the earth move.

It’s as though our souls recognise each other even if our bodies and minds don’t, and in that couple of seconds, my entire life shifts. Which is completely insane, right?

Josie has spent the night referring to the male population of the club as “McHotties,” which I’ve found beyond hilarious. And so, I have claimed it for the beautiful man looking down upon me.

My McHottie is momentarily distracted by his friends, so when Alex grabs my hand to ask if I’d like a drink, I use that as my opportunity to leave the dancefloor and, by proxy, my admirer’s attention.