Page 28

I debate callinga car to take me back because finding a dress took longer than I anticipated and I still need to get ready for dinner. I decide to walk another two blocks to a less crowded street before calling for a car. I move to step around a man taking a picture of a woman holding up a giant pretzel. I squeeze between him and a building with a For Sale sign in the window. For whatever reason, I stop. I press my face into my cupped hand and look inside. The large windows give enough light that I can make out a large open space with high ceilings and a few beams. The perfect space for an art gallery.

My whole life art has been the one thing able to help me cope when I feel my anxiety starting to creep in. Some people use meditation to keep anxiety at bay, for others it can be medication. I’ve tried the 3 3 3 rule, I’ve also tried movement and music. Nothing is able to calm my mind and body the way trying to decipher art can. I’m aware it might just be a distraction, a mask. But it also brings me joy. I love finding new art, whether it be in painting, sculpture, or even film. When deciding on a degree and career choice I chose business over medicine for the sole reason that I knew I would be able to double major in fine arts along with business.

I don't know what prompts me to take a picture of the phone number on the sign, but I do it anyway and then quickly open the missed text from Taylor before I can think about it.

Taylor

Screaming crying gagging passed out on the floor in my throw-up.

I close my eyes and smile as I tap my phone to my chin. For the first time in a long time, the fog is light enough that the setting sun creates a vibrant cascade of pinks and purple across the sky. A weightless feeling floats through my body as I call a car to pick me up.

Miles

The low cushionedchair should be buckling under my weight but I guess the tiny hair-pin legs on it aren’t just for show. When I had Talan research the best restaurant in the city today, I was surprised it was a place I’d never been. The glass dome is nice in theory as it offers a 360-degree view of the city. People are pressed up against the windowed walls, phones in hand, snapping the same low-quality pictures over and over again. The last of the sunset dips below the horizon and the restaurant now glows with mood lighting.

Looking out into the now crowded restaurant, everyone quickly goes out of focus as Camila enters the room. I’m having flashbacks of being a child and playing with a kaleidoscope. A blur of color acts as a background image while my sole focus is on Camila. She is the center, taking up the whole picture. Her teeth dig into her bottom lip as she searches for me from across the room. The slit in her tight black skirt trails up to her mid-thigh.Fuck me. Those legs.The rest of her outfit is casual with a cropped vintage t-shirt and sneakers. Her eyes squint towards me in the dim corner before she reaches an arm up to wave. My fist digs into my jaw when a little sliver of skin peeks out from under her shirt.

I stand from my chair as she approaches the table. She brushes an invisible strand of hair from her face, pats her skirt that’s already completely flat, and then cracks her knuckles. I take her elbow, and I don’t know if it will help or hurt her nerves but I can’t stop myself when I lean down and place a small kiss on her temple. I fight the groan that tries to escape when I get a whiff of her rich, deep scent. Patchouli with a hint of something citrusy. I pull away, motioning for her to sit, and the lightest shade of pink touches her cheeks.

“Camila,” I greet her

“Miles,” she mockingly responds.

One of the things I’ve come to enjoy most about Camila is her ability to be sarcastic with me. There’s a very comforting feeling about it.

“I ordered you a Vodka Red Bull,” I say tilting my head towards the bar.

“No, you did not!” Her eyes widen and she pauses mid-air before sitting fully in her chair.

“What's wrong? Scared you're going to wake up in my bed again?” She sucks her cheeks trying to hide her smile and the waiter arrives. He places my whisky on a black and gold napkin in front of me, and the glass of wine I ordered in front of Camila. She thanks the waiter before tilting her head at me.

She can’t hide her smile, as she laughs picking up her glass. I’m momentarily distracted by the sparkle emanating from her ring finger. Even though I know it doesn't mean what the people around us think it does, it sparks some primal feeling in me to see it on her finger anyway. I’m unable to have her in a way that I might want, but I like knowing that no one else is going to go after her either with that ring on. It isn’t fair for me to want her all to myself when I can't even give myself to her for real. But the thought of her with anyone else makes my blood boil.

“So, tell me something,” Camila swirls her glass around, giving me one of her playful smiles that I’ve grown a soft spot for.

“What would you like to know tonight, mi esposa?” That throws her off. Her hand strikes her chest as she works hard to swallow her drink. Her mouth parts but I think I’ve shocked whatever witty one-liner she was going to say. “Why don't you tell me something first this time?” I ask, lifting my glass to her.

Her chest puffs out as she sits up a little taller. “Okay, let's see. I went to yoga this morning. And then I went out and found a dress for tomorrow....”

“Now who's the one getting too personal?”

Her eyes narrow as she tries her damnedest to look angry but the corners of her lips give her away. “Okay well, I also took down the number of an empty studio space that’s for sale.” She pins me with raised brows.

That piques my interest. I want to know everything but I nod and wait for her to continue. Almost instantaneously her mood shifts. Her shoulders hunch over and she's looking at her drink as if it holds the secrets to the world.

“I don't know… I…” I casually sip my drink, giving her the time. “Okay, it’s stupid. But I think somewhere in the furthest part of my mind, I’ve always had a dream of opening my own art gallery. A place for new and up-and-coming artists to have space to showcase their work.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid. Why is it not at the forefront of your mind?”

She lets out a long tense breath reaching for the pendant on her necklace. “My parents mostly. My mom is from Spain and my dad is from Mexico. They met in Miami while in medical school together and they’ve both just done absolutely everything in their power to be successful to build a better life for themselves, but they’ve really done all of it for me and my younger brother.” She pauses before looking at me for my reaction. But again, I only wait for her to continue. “Business was never my dream, but I knew it was something that could land me a successful job and make my parents proud. And knowing everything they went through, to be able to provide the life they did for us, making something of myself and being successful has been my only focus for as long as I can remember.”

She’s mentioned her parents and their expectations of her before but I didn't realize it was to this extent. I wonder how much of these expectations are actually from her parents versus Camila self-inflicting them on herself.

“Sounds like you have a little bit of a people-pleasing problem.”

“Little?” she forces a small laugh.

“Why?”