Page 34

Liza

T he days following Ryan’s massive admission have been a mix between chaos and solitude.

Violet gets a little better with each passing day.

Taylor Swift, wine, and chocolate are to thank for that.

I’ve set up camp at their apartment to make sure Violet isn’t alone, but each night, after her eyes close, I shuffle down the hall into Hartley’s bed.

We spend most nights talking about anything and everything until the sun peeks through the curtains, yelling at us to get an hour or two of sleep before class the next day.

Hartley’s stark anger towards Ryan has shifted to indifference.

Violet chooses to talk her feelings out with me when Hart’s not around to avoid a massive blow up like the one outside their building the morning after the truth came out.

Not one of Hartley’s finer moments, but I have his back no matter what.

“There’s my girl.” Hartley juts his chin out and wraps his strong arms around my waist from behind in the middle of my favorite spot on campus, the courtyard. Benches, willows, and cobblestone line the area creating a peaceful oasis in the midst of final’s week stress.

Lifting my head slightly, I plant a wet kiss on his flushed, rosy cheek, no doubt coming straight from a workout. “Trying to scare me?”

“Nah, just can’t keep my hands off of you.” We both throw our backpacks on a free table and sit across from each other. This meetup has become our routine, a few minutes of quality time when we can.

“I’m stressed,” I groan, dropping my head into the palms of my hands.

“Look at me.” His muscular arms plant atop the wrought iron table. His warm breath fans across my worried face as I peek one eye through the slits of my hands. “No one is better at this than you.”

“You don’t know that.” My voice comes out whinier than I’d like.

“I do.”

“How?”

“I don’t need to see anyone else’s work to know yours is the best.” He wraps my hands in his, exposing my face, etched with worry, for him to read.

“But. . .”

He cuts me off. “I see the hours you spend on every waking minute of each piece. The smallest line in the wrong place. A color not working with what you’re trying to portray.” His crooked grin makes an appearance, and I can’t help but release one of my own. “Plus, you have the best model.”

Clapping my hands together, I put on a show. “There it is!”

Leaning over the table, he kisses me with a surprising amount of force for the middle of campus.

Then again, Hartley doesn’t care what anyone thinks.

“No more doubts. Okay?” He lifts himself off the seat, the print of the bench pressed into his jeans as he walks away.

I try not to stare, but who am I kidding?

Of course I stare because Hartley Knox is mine, and it feels better than I ever would have imagined.

He flips around with his hands cupped around his mouth and shouts, “See you tonight!”

He leaves me giddy at a table by myself.

At least my mind is on my smoking hot boyfriend, and how those jeans curve in all the right places, not the art exposition tonight.

Since most art class finals are portfolio based, I turned mine in last week for final grading.

My professor called me in a few days later and asked if I would like my sketches to appear in the annual campus art exposition.

I can’t believe that my art is good enough to put on display.

This is a huge deal because alumni, donors, and art influencers from the area attend to spot the next up and coming artists from Springs U.

This could be the break I need to score a local internship doing what I love in the place I’ve grown to love the most.

I flip my wrist over to check the time on my watch.

Emberly is supposed to meet me here so we can get ready together at the dorms before we pick up Hartley and Violet.

I take in the scenery around me. The wisps of the hanging moss from willows surround the paved area of my little slice of heaven.

Birds chirp as they pick up crumbs of food dropped by bustling students through the main hub of campus.

What was once a last minute detour to escape my mess of a life has turned into exactly where I belong.

“Hey.” Emberly’s soft voice catches my attention and snaps me out of the sappy thoughts that fill my mind.

“Hey! Ready?” Jumping up, I join her in tow to take the trek back to our dorm room.

“I’m so excited for tonight.”

“I can’t decide what I am.” Raising my hand to my mouth, I chew on my nails.

Remembering the fresh coat of nail polish I added a few days ago for tonight’s event snaps me from my trance.

“I want to be excited, but this is the first time anyone will see my final sketches. I want everything to be perfect.”

Glancing my way, a reassuring smile takes over her face. “It’s going to be great. Hartley loves everything you do.” She adds a knowing wink.

“What if he doesn’t like how he’s portrayed?” Art is subjective, after all, and he may hate the perspective I took of him in each scene.

“He will love it. You could finger paint a stick figure of him on a rock, and he would swear up and down it’s better than the Mona Lisa .”

An unexpected laugh roars out as I clench my stomach. “He would say something like that, wouldn’t he?”

“Oh, and can you—”

“Yes, I’m doing your makeup. Duh!” Placing my hand under my chin, I make a prissy pose and pout my glossy lips to one of my best friends. “You don’t have to ask. I like treating you like my personal Barbie doll.”

“I know, but I don’t want to be a burden on your big night.”

“Never.” As we approach our dorm, I feel so much better about tonight than I did earlier today. I need to get over my fear of failure and enjoy my successes with my friends who have become family.