The studio – and I use this term loosely – was nothing fancy, but it was the one place that I could call my own and there were no rules. I’d rarely allowed others into my personal hideaway, except for Leslie once and my parents of course. It always seemed like too private a place to just invite others in indiscreetly. Anyone with any sort of artistic inclination knows how difficult it is to allow others to experience the innermost workings of your mind. Every stroke of the brush represents some interpretation of how I perceive life. Forgive me, but I just don’t think everyone needs to know me like that. The thought of it makes me more uncomfortable than I could ever begin to express.
After organizing my supplies, I carried them over to the blank canvas awaiting me and closed my eyes. The music lulling from my CD player took me to some place far away. When I finished, I stood back to admire what I’d done. Outside, I could see that it was almost completely dark. The open shades allowed the glow from the street lamps to filter freely through the window. Painting only temporarily freed me from my personal cross-examination about why I’d withheld the information from Megan, but I’d hoped that I could keep busy enough tonight in preparation for tomorrow’s events that I wouldn’t have much time to think of anything but the dance.
The soft knock at the attic door jolted me from my thoughts. I took a deep breath before answering, “Yes?”
It was my father. “Baby Girl, it’s time to eat.”
“Alright, Daddy, I’ll be down in a few,” I replied, letting out one last sigh of frustration before it was time to face my mother. She has a sixth sense for knowing when I’m bothered by something. Hiding these new and confusing feelings from her wouldn’t be an easy task by any means. I shuffled to the sink to wash the paint from my hands and glanced over at the small mirror that hung beside the light switch. I ran my fingers through my hair and practiced making my face look as stress-free as possible. Once I felt I’d succeeded, I switched off the light and went down the stairs with a fake smile plastered on my face.
My parents were already seated impatiently at the table – both looking a little annoyed that it took me so long to join them. Instead of apologizing, I just took my seat silently. Daddy shot me one quick disapproving look and reached out for my hand to pray. After that, dinner was fairly uneventful. My father told us about one of his patients who was experiencing a miraculous recovery after a devastating accident only five weeks ago. Mom told us about her student’s new pen pals in Asia. Of course it would have to be Asia. My thoughts immediately shifted back to the attractive boy I’d collided with earlier that day. His unforgettable smile flashed in my head and I would’ve sworn I could smell his scent heavy in the air. I don’t think my mother noticed that my eyes widened ever so slightly when she disclosed the location of her student’s new friends.
Anxious to get back to my room to see if anyone had called my phone, I passed on dessert. One missed call…….The first thought that crossed my mind was absurd – of course it wasn’t him. I scoffed at my own stupidity and decided to put an end to my speculation by just checking the call log. Antonio. When I saw his name, the feeling of butterflies in my stomach was shockingly reassuring. They acted as a little reminder of where my true feelings lie, just in case this madness with AJ had clouded my judgment at all. And at that exact moment, I needed to hear from Antonio in order to forget about my new distraction. I scrolled down to his name and pressed ‘Talk’. It only rang twice before I heard his deep voice on the other end.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me,” I replied.
Smiling through the phone, he responded, “Glad you called back so fast. Just wanted to hear your voice.”
Yep, here come the butterflies again.
A smile stretched across my face. “What’re you doing?”
“Just got done hoopin’ with Terrence and Brian. What were you doing?”
“Just finished eating, and before that I was in the attic painting,” I replied.
“Oh,” he said quietly, deep in thought. There was a long silence while he worked up to his next question. “Is your dad still cool about us going to the dance together tomorrow?” He paused for a second. “Or is he trippin’ now?”
I laughed a little. “He seems to be okay with it. It didn’t come up at dinner, so I think so.”