Chapter 25
Kelsie
I have no time to waste staying at home and crying any more tears over Hayes’ departure. He’s made his decision to leave, which means he’s made his decision about us. I’m not important enough for him to stay.
I’m also running late. The contest unveiling event and presentation ceremony at the Center for the Arts starts at three.
Today they announce the winners in each category. I’d barely finished my piece in time to submit it for judging and even then, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to enter.
Although Hayes had encouraged me—even begged me—to submit it last week, it wasn’t until after I spoke with my aunt and considered all that transpired to lead me up to meeting Hayes that I finally bit the bullet and dropped it off, along with my submission form, to the arts office.
I didn’t tell anyone about my decision. Not Grace, not Lucy. Not even Hayes, even though it was his idea. I hid the truth from him because it made me feel vulnerable to be so exposed and have everyone see the truth in my art: I’m in love.
But it doesn’t matter now. My art will be on display, along with my love life, in a public forum and I couldn’t tell Hayes even if I wanted to because, for all I know, he’s already on his way back to Colorado.
I finish my hair and make-up and then look at the time once again that’s listed on the flyer before setting it back down on my desk. The event begins in twenty minutes.
I pack up my bag, adjust the strap of my bra underneath my shirt, and walk out the door with a straight spine and confident smile on my face.
It feels good to do this on my own.
It reminds me that I don’t ever need anyone but myself to do what I want. I’m self-assured and independent. This thing with Hayes, although wonderful at times, has taken me on a roller coaster of emotion. The ups and downs since meeting him had twisted me up in a bundle of knots. Being on my own again will feel better.
I tell myself this several times like a mantra as I walk at a quick pace through the quad and enter the arts building.
The room is packed with students and faculty, a loud din of chatter filtering through the crowd. A guy dressed in a suit coat stands at the entryway and hands me a pamphlet.
“Thanks,” I say, accepting the handout and scanning the seats to find a spot.
I take a seat next to a girl I know in the rows reserved for contest entrants. From the looks of it, there are two full rows and about twenty-five students.
“Hey, Kelsie. Are you as nervous as I am?” the girl, Nadia, asks in a tittering voice, an anxious smile on her face.
I shrug noncommittally. “I don’t know. I guess. Now that I see how many people entered, maybe I am a little nervous.”
Nadia flaps a hand and makes a scoffing sound. “Oh, please. I’m sure yours is fantastic. Which category did you enter?”
I cast my gaze down to the pamphlet and see the categories listed and the names of each student and their submission titles.
“Oh, mine is impressionism.”
She sighs. “Ooh, I just love that style. Mine is contemporary. But I’m most interested in seeing all the graffiti art. It’s so cool what these artists can come up with.”
I nod in agreement out of politeness, not really interested in that style myself. Nadia continues to chatter nervously until the lights on the stage go up and the curtain opens. The head of the art department, Sophia Hernandez, walks out on stage to applause.
“Thank you all for joining us this afternoon for a remarkable show of talent and unique artistic views from our student artists,” she begins with another round of applause from the audience. “At CFU, we pride ourselves on encouraging development among our youth of today in hopes they will continue to strive and flourish, producing art that will benefit our world and future.”
As Sophia is speaking, I feel my phone vibrate in my bag. I’d silenced it before I came in the room to avoid being interrupted or impolite. For a minute, I consider ignoring it but bend over and extract the device. I stare down at the message.
Hayes: Where are you?
Hayes: I need to talk to you.
Hayes: Please, Kels. I have to tell you everything.
Hayes: I’m coming to find you.
I wrinkle my nose in confusion. Does this mean he’s back on campus? And he didn’t leave after all? Something in my belly flutters. My heart races with anticipation.
I’m about to text back when Nadia elbows me in the arm. My head snaps up to her.
“This is your category,” she whispers. “She’s going to announce the winner.”
Excitement surges through my bloodstream but I don’t know if it’s because of the announcement or the sheer shock from learning that Hayes didn’t leave like he said. Hayes is here and he’s looking for me.
“And this year’s winner of the impressionism style category is…” she pauses for dramatic effect and I feel my heart skip a beat. “Mon Amour by junior student, Kelsie Dannon.”
Nadia screams in delight and grabs my shoulders, shaking me like I’m a birthday present she’s going to unwrap. I jolt in my chair, struggling to comprehend what I think I heard. Did my name just get called?
I stare wide-eyed up at the front of the stage, glued to my seat until Nadia nudges me to get to my feet. The sound of applause and cheering is muffled by the noise inside my head.
Sophia smiles broadly as I walk up the steps toward her. She extends her hand to shake mine and presents me with a certificate of achievement, along with a cash prize of $250.
“Congratulations, Kelsie,” Sophia says into the mic on the podium. “Would you like to say a few words and tell us what the painting represents to you? What would you like the viewers to feel when they look at our artwork?”
I accept the award, holding on tightly as I stare out at the audience. It’s a sea of people, but somehow my gaze manages to land on the boy I fell in love with in Paris over six months ago.
Hayes is standing in the back of the room, his dark eyes are warm and filled with pride.
I smile as I lean down to speak into the mic. “It represents first love. Heartbreak. And second chances.”
When I step back, there’s more applause and I turn to leave the stage, heading straight back toward Hayes, who has his arms flung wide open.
I throw my arms around his back and clutch him tight as he embraces me in his strong hold.
“I’m so fucking proud of you, baby. But, fuck, I’m so sorry for leaving you again like I did,” he whispers, kissing the top of my head. I feel tears stream down my face as I press my cheek against his chest. We cling to one another as if we’re each a life raft in the middle of the ocean.
“Why did you leave me again? If you love me, you’d stay.”
How ironic that I always thought that about my parents, who would so often be gone; I felt their absence was because they didn’t love me.
Hayes pulls back enough to gaze down into my face. “There are things I haven’t told you about. I haven’t been completely honest with you. Can we go somewhere more private?”
I glance around and see the exit, grabbing his hand and tugging him out the door and down the hall to an open room.
He closes the door behind him and I hit the light switch before turning around to face him.
“What things haven’t you told me?”
“The night of the accident…” he pauses, swallowing as if mustering the courage to continue. “When Kevin was driving, I held my phone up to show him something. That’s how the accident happened. Maybe he had a drink or two, but it wasn’t because he was drunk. He swerved and lost control because he took his eyes off the road and then overcorrected when he veered too hard. The accident was all my fault,” he explains, his voice choked up and full of emotion.
“Oh, Hayes. Baby,” I respond, cupping his face in my palms. Tears stream down his cheeks and I lean up and kiss them away, tasting the salty wetness of his grief.
“I didn’t want to tell you because…I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me. I just wanted someone to think I’m not a terrible person,” he admits.
“Hayes, you could never be a terrible person,” I argue, my gaze searching his, pleading my case. “You’re so good. You”re good to me and to those you love.”
He pulls me back into his arms and holds me tight. “I don’t know about that. But I do know that you”re the most important person to me and I’m so sorry that I pushed you away. Self-loathing has been eating me away for years. I tried to bury it, but it broke free when I found out what happened to Holden. I felt like I failed him again and, in turn, failed you too.”
“I’m not going to lie, when you left, it hurt.” I grab his hand and bring it to my heart, holding it there he can feel it beating. “But you didn’t fail me. You came back, you’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”
“I’m here now, and I’m never letting you go again, mon amour,” he murmurs against my hair. He pulls back and cups my face in his hands, staring down at me in amazement. “Oh, my God, Kelsie. Your painting won! I’m so proud of you.”
His mouth crashes into mine, capturing me in a thorough kiss.
When our mouths separate, I smile up at him. “Thanks for being my muse.”
“Kels, I want to be your muse for as long as you want me. I’ll be the best muse, boyfriend, lover you’ll ever have.”
I snuggle into him, nestling my face in his chest.
“I guess it’s true what they say,” I murmur quietly and reverently. “Love really does bring out the best in people.”