Chapter 44
Chapter forty-four
Liv
Something happened to me this morning when I woke up with Jay. The quiet routine of getting dressed together, laughing, feeding the cat, brushing our teeth, felt natural in a way that wasn’t choreographed but still in perfect sync.
He soothes something so deep within me that I briefly forgot that all of this is temporary and we need to talk about that. He hasn’t asked about me leaving, does he assume I won’t?
A knot wedges itself into my ribs, that foreboding feeling when you know things are about to change, and it makes me restless.
But that could just be misplaced fear from my past with Rhys.
Jay has never given me any reason to doubt him in the same way.
I could email campus housing and decline the dorm room, but that says a lot about what we haven’t talked about yet.
My mind spins with telling him how I feel, and though I want to, I need to settle my thoughts first.
So my first thought is, what could calm my mind? What can help me focus on something else other than things I can’t control? Then, like it was meant to be, a pulse beneath my skin appears, an itch that tells me to create something again, and I’m heading toward the studio.
I find a space by the window in the same spot that Jay brought me to before.
Memories linger in the air around me, and I inhale, smiling to myself at our little secret.
This secret doesn’t feel the same as the one Rhys had with me, mostly because Jay isn’t afraid to hold my hand in public or kiss me in front of our friends now, and I didn’t realize how much I needed that affirmation again.
Jay’s voice whispers in my ear, just like it did that night, and it motivates me to move.
My hands remember what to do before my mind catches up.
My body awakens with each stroke, the weight of the brush in my hand, the sweet scent of the paint, and the tiny sparks of control and surrender that come with creation.
It feels alive. I feel alive. But more importantly, it feels right.
For so long, painting felt like forcing a memory, it was something I loved but couldn’t reach anymore. But now, with every line and blend, that numbness recedes. I feel the difference between my control and my release, and how both can exist at the same time, in the same movement.
Paint flicks onto my skin, and I keep going until my shoulders ache and the vision of the sun falling behind the campus stares back at me. Golds, oranges, and pinks all combined with the offset of the autumn trees. It’s something, a start to feeling back to me.
My phone buzzes in my back pocket, and I flip it over to find a message from Bethany.
Bethany
Hi Olivia, I’ll be in town tomorrow if you’re still good to meet me? I’ll be on campus around ten x
Liv
Sure thing! I’ll meet you near the parking lot, does that work?
Bethany
Absolutely, I’ll be wearing a purple coat but you can call me if you can’t see me x
I message Daphne to see if she’s around too, I don’t know campus as well as her, so I’m hoping she can come with me.
I open my camera and take a picture to send to Jay with the caption: ‘a little different being here without you this time.’ He’s still the first one I want to share this with.
The signature swoop tells me the message has sent, and immediately the bubbles appear with him typing.
Jay
Liv, that’s incredible. I’m sad I’m not there to give you that happy ending again though ;)
Liv
You can always have that happy ending tonight.
Jay
You can’t make me hard at work, baby. I have a shoot in fifteen minutes.
Liv
Motivation is key, here. I want you home early.
Jay
Count on it. Especially because my boss told me I have to go to our California branch for two days.
My brow furrows.
Liv
When do you leave?
Jay
Tomorrow.
I stare at the message, already planning. This is actually perfect timing. He has no idea what’ll be waiting for him when he gets back.
Liv
I hear absence makes the dick grow fonder…
Jay
Huh, is that how it goes?
Liv
Apparently. Guess we’ll find out. See you tonight xo
Locking my phone, I glance around the studio. A few months ago, I couldn’t imagine coming back here without breaking. Now I’m standing in the same room, paint on my hands, and my chest feels full, like something finally fits, and it’s because of him.
He’s shown me how to reclaim parts of myself.
He’s reminded me how to take up space again, how to believe I’m allowed to.
But beneath it all, he’s reminded me that letting someone in isn’t a weakness.
***
I’m practically sprinting across campus after parking what feels like a mile away—and because my roommate wouldn’t let me get out of bed this morning.
He’s leaving today for California, and I may or may not have dealt with my feelings using sex last night…
is it healthy? No, but clicks for me that I recognize that.
However, now I’m late meeting Bethany, along with half the state’s prospective students, clogging up Cedar Lakes.
Daphne had to bail last minute because Rosie isn’t well, so I had to be a super quick study on the map of campus.
Rain starts to fall in a light dusting around me, and as soon as I see the purple jacket she told me to look out for, I increase my pace again, lungs burning now.
“Hey, are you Bethany?” I say, approaching the figure.
She spins, her brown hair tied in two braids, and big, brown doe eyes that crinkle when she smiles. “I am. You’re Olivia?”
I smile back and say, “Call me Liv.”
She laughs, a soft, airy sound that doesn’t match the cold drizzle. “Sorry you had to run through this weather for me.”
“It’s Oregon,” I say with a shrug. “If I waited for clear skies, we’d never leave the house.”
She smiles wider, tugging her jacket tighter around her shoulders. “Good to know.”
“So, first things first, what are you considering studying? Then I can take you to that building.”
“I’m not totally sure yet. Maybe psychology. My mom says I’d be good at listening, and Dad keeps telling me to find something practical.”
I nod, half amused. “Dads love practicality.”
“Yeah,” she says with a faint laugh. “He’ll actually be joining us later at the coffee shop, if that’s okay?”
“Yeah, of course.”
We fall into step as I mentally think about where the psychology department is. Then I remember it’s on the north side of campus near the library, and we move toward it. “So where are you from?”
“Pullman, in Washington,” she replies.
“Really? I used to attend WSU.”
“No way. I visited campus last week, and I liked it, but I kinda want more freedom than being in the same state as my parents, especially since the divorce.”
Her voice dips just slightly on the last word, like she isn’t sure she wants to leave it out there. I glance over, offering an easy smile, knowing the strain that can have. “Ah, I’m sorry to hear that. My parents are divorced, too.”
“So you know it sucks,” she scoffs.
I nod. “It does, but they’re better people apart.”
“Yeah,” she says quietly, watching the path ahead. “Mine will be, too, eventually. It’s still pretty fresh.”
I hum in agreement, not pushing.
The rain has eased more into a fine mist now, just as we approach the psychology building, and I’m partly grateful for the reprieve from talking about divorces. “That’s where most of the psych lectures are held. Then just behind is the library.”
“Oh, I have to see that. It looked beautiful on the website.”
“Yeah, it really is,” I say, leading her toward the path that winds between the buildings. “It’s kind of the heart of campus. Everyone ends up there eventually—either to study, nap, or hide from the rain.”
She laughs again, this time more relaxed, her braids swaying as we walk. “Do you come here a lot?”
“Only when I’m pretending to be productive,” I admit. “I’m an art major, so most of my life happens on the west side of campus.”
“That’s fair,” she says, her tone brightening. “I’m more of a people-watcher than a bookworm. Maybe that’s why psychology interests me. I like figuring people out.”
“You’d fit right in here then,” I tell her. “Half the students are trying to figure themselves out still.”
She grins as I open the heavy door. “What made you pick art?”
I think about it for a second before answering. “Technically, I picked art history. I want to become an art museum curator, but I’ve always loved how you can capture a moment and make it feel alive again, and it doesn’t matter the medium. It fascinates me.”
“That’s really cool,” she says, holding my eyes.
I can tell she’s starting to settle, her nervous energy easing.
We round the corner, and the library comes into view.
It stretches up in tiers, rows of shelves curving toward a skylight that filters the gray light into the room.
Students fill the lower level—laptops glowing, earbuds in, jackets draped over chairs.
“Wow,” she breathes. “You weren’t kidding.”
I smile, remembering the first time I came here before I transferred with Daphne. “Yeah. It kind of makes you want to pretend you’re the main character in some academic drama.”
Bethany grins. “Or a mystery novel.”
“Exactly. Come on, I’ll show you the best place to people watch.”