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I grunted in response, poking my tongue into my cheek while I concentrated.

Jess cradled her face in her hands, elbows resting on the desk beside me.

“You can go home, you know.”

“I know,” she shrugged but didn’t move.

“So why don’t you?” My voice probably came out a little more cutting than I intended, but Jess knew me well enough to know that I wasn’t rude on purpose.

“It’s funny seeing you like this.”

I could tell she was watching my face, examining me or something. It reminded me of Zarina, of how she saw everything, noticed everything, no matter how minor.

Maybe it was just a woman thing.

Or maybe it was just a trait honed by people like Jess and Zarina who had too much experience withhavingto notice things about others.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” Jess shrugged. “You’re scowling, but your heart’s just not in it.”

I rolled my eyes.

“You seem lighter, I suppose,” she continued, not taking the hint that I wasn’t in the mood to hear her theories. “Bounding around the studio, singing along to tunes you usually whinge about.”

“You play the same fucking songsevery day, Jess.”

“Plus, your pieces look a little different too.” She gestured with her chin towards the wall where I hung my works in progress. With a tilt of her head and crossed arms, she leaned back to take in the collection as a whole.

After letting out an exasperated sigh, I did the same.

The heavy lines and shadows of my pieces from a few months ago looked like they had been drawn by someone else now. I chewed on the inside of my lip while my eyes flitted between the two eras of my art.

The contrast was clear, and I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t even noticed it. This girl had impacted me from the start, before I even fucking knew about it. She’d been morphing me, cracking me open and rearranging me into something better before I was even aware and without even trying.

Jess held up her hands, framing the section of my old work with her fingers.

“Pre-Zarina,” she closed one eye in mock-seriousness before sweeping her palms towards the newer pieces. “Post-Zarina.”

“Hmm,” was all I allowed.

“She must fuck real good if she can makeyoursketches less shit,” Jess offered a quick, condescending pat on the shoulder before heading back to the front desk. I watched as she grabbed her bag and packet of cigarettes and headed towards the back door.

“Oi,” I called when she was half-way out.

“What?” she mumbled with a smoke already lodged between her lips and without looking up from her phone.

“Thanks.”

“Ugh, now you’re being polite and shit?” she rolled her eyes and let the door slam shut behind her.

I chuckled when she was gone, shaking my head as I headed over to the nervous looking woman flanked by her friends, waiting to get her first tattoo. When I showed her the design, her eyes lit up and she nodded furiously.

“That’s perfect,” she said.

“Cool,” I offered a quick nod. “Let’s do it.”

She followed me over to the station, wringing her hands together and looking at the wall of my drawings while I wiped down the bed.