Chapter 15
Fifteen
KIERAN
After Isabel leaves, I go back to the pool house and face my worst fear, worse than not meeting my deadline: calling my parents.
“Hello, darling!” Mam coos through my phone’s speaker. I’ve purposely limited our call to strictly audio so they can’t ask to see what I’m working on.
“Hi, Mam.” Despite my dread, it is nice to hear her voice.
“Enjoying yourself?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m grand. Is Mum there?”
“I’m here,” comes Mum’s voice.
“It’s just a little past noon now, isn’t it?” I ask.
“About,” Mum answers. “How’s your work going?”
“It’s…” Going. “I’m on a break right now.
My hand’s cramping from all the sketching I’ve been doing.
” Not a lie; I have been sketching, just nothing I can paint, and not very recently since I met Isabel, because I’m all out of things that feel acceptable enough to sketch. But they don’t need to know that.
“Studies?” Mum asks.
“Mhm.”
“And your friends, darling,” Mam pipes in. “How are they? You haven’t sent us any pictures. You promised pictures!”
That’s one of the curses of having mothers who are big fans of the visual medium: they always expect pictures. Helps us visualize, Mum always says.
“I don’t have any on my phone,” I say, “but I’ll send them tomorrow. Cisco should have some.”
“You should be taking more pictures,” Mum says. “It’s a great way to—”
“I know, Mum.” I’ve heard that lecture before. “I just don’t like sketching off of screens, okay?”
“Well, it’s not about what you like all the time, is it, Kieran? You have to be adaptable, and in the future, you won’t always have the privilege of having your subject right in front of you. Everything you paint is so transient. Sunsets—”
“But it’s not about creating facsimiles, Mum.
It doesn’t matter if I paint the sunset as accurately as it had been on that specific day.
It can be a blend of a million other sunsets I’ve seen before.
What matters is the feeling, right? I want to be in that sunset state of mind.
I want it there on the page. And I don’t get that feeling staring at a screen. ”
My mothers are quiet on the other line. Then Mam chuckles. “Well, you can’t say we didn’t raise an artist, Sloane. He sounds exactly like you did in college.”
* * *
I wake up at noon with the boys gathered in the room, speaking in low voices and chuckling among themselves.
“She’s giving me a harder time than I was expecting,” Jaime says. “I thought for sure she’d come with me last night.”
“You are so losing this bet,” Bo says with a laugh.
“I don’t understand it. She was obsessed with me in high school. I could tell. And I mean, she was high. You’d think she’d jump at the chance—”
“Who would jump at the chance?” I interject, head now lifted from my pillow. Talk about a terrible wake up call. First thing in the afternoon and I’m pissed as fuck.
“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty,” Cisco greets. “We thought you’d sleep through the day.”
I’d gone to bed just as the sky was brightening into a sparkling blue. My eyes hurt from the light as I crossed the small distance between the studio and the house. I didn’t even realize Cisco heard me come in; I just collapsed into my bed and passed out.
“What’re you guys talking about?” I press on.
“Who else?” Jaime responds.
“Jaime invited Isabel to his room last night, but she said no.” Bo, who is leaning against the dresser with his arms crossed, snorts.
Good girl, I think. Stay away from him.
“That’s fucked,” I say, collapsing back onto my pillow. “Don’t fucking take advantage of girls when they’re high, man.”
“I didn’t do shit,” Jaime snaps. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to. She said no.”
You want an award? Respecting her choice is the barest of minimums.
Cisco must sense the growing tension in the air and clears his throat. “We’re staying in today,” he says. “The girls are hungover from last night. I’m probably going to do laps in the pool, and Shirley said there’s a gym somewhere if we wanted to lift weights or whatever.”
“They have fucking everything in this house,” Bo scoffs. “It’s insane.”
“Wait ’til you see the cinema in the basement,” Jaime says. “They get screeners from studios wanting to put on films at their malls. I got to watch all the Marvel films ahead of time, in private. Fucking crazy.”
I wish he’d shut the fuck up.
With a groan, I rip the sheets off my body and head to the bathroom. I get ready for the day. Through a crack in the door, I hear Jaime ask, “What the hell is his problem?”
I have half a mind to tell him: You, motherfucker. You’re my fucking problem.
* * *
The girls are in various states of relaxation when we step out into the backyard.
Natalia, Luz, and Chiara are working on their tans on the lounge chairs.
Erin and Ravina are beading bracelets and chatting by the dining table.
Isabel has her feet curled beneath her on the couch, lost in the early pages of a book.
I make a beeline straight for her, claiming the empty space next to her so Jaime can’t. He fixes me with a curious stare before stalking off to join Cisco at the pool. Bo goes to join Erin and Ravina.
Isabel tucks a finger between the pages and shuts her book. “Good morning,” she says.
“Afternoon,” I reply.
“Good afternoon,” she repeats. “Sleep well?”
I tip my head from side to side. I don’t really fall asleep so much as I conk out. Being a night owl in a world built for early birds isn’t exactly ideal.
“What’re you reading?” I ask.
She lifts the book facing me. Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis.
“You’re really a church girl, huh.”
She bristles. Clearly, I’ve put my foot in my mouth.
“What’s wrong with that?”
“I didn’t say anything was wrong with that.”
“It sounds like you were implying a bunch of things about me.”
“I wasn’t.”
“I’m not intolerant. I have a personal relationship with God. I know that gets a bad rap these days, and I get why. But my faith has nothing to do with anyone. It’s between me and God. If anything, it makes me a better person. Not that you need to believe in God to be a good person. I just mean—”
I laugh. She’s got a nice soap box, I’ll give her that.
Being around the others must’ve really done a number on her, putting her quickly on the defense.
Then again, I take it as a compliment that she feels safe enough to engage with me in this way.
Every time the others poke fun at her, she just shuts up. That’s a good thing, right?
I hold out my wrist to her and point to the space between my thumb and pointer finger, at my tattoo of the cross. She blinks at it, then up at me.
“Oh, yeah,” I say. “You’re looking at a seasoned Catholic. Mass every Sunday, Bible study, attended a Catholic all-boys school, the whole nine yards.”
Her cheeks tinge pink. I’m gripped by an immense desire to paint her like this: lips parted, cheeks flushed, wide eyes framed by long lashes.
I take the book from her, careful to tuck my finger to mark her page. “I’ve never heard of this book, though. Is it any good?”
“I like it so far,” she answers.
A hand ruffles my hair. “Hi, Kieran.” I glance back just in time to see Natalia pass me in her bikini, skin glistening with some sort of oil.
She claims a seat next to Bo and starts chatting with the group.
I turn my attention back to Isabel. Her eyes have wandered from my face to right behind me, at the dining table.
“Should I give it a go?” I ask, wanting her focus right back on me.
I can’t explain it. I’ve gone from desperately trying to avoid her to craving her presence and her attention nearly constantly.
I try to justify it as protectiveness; Jaime’s bad news, and I’m only trying to look out for her.
But that’s not the whole truth, isn’t it?
Because I’m still dreaming about her. There hasn’t been a single night that I haven’t gone to bed knowing I would see her, and since I got here, I’ve woken up thinking the same thing.
If I didn’t believe in miracles before, I certainly do now.
“You can borrow it,” she says. “But it’s my best friend’s copy, so I need it back before the end of the summer. And don’t dog-ear pages. She hates that.”
“Why don’t we—”
I’m interrupted by Jaime plopping down onto the couch next to Isabel, careless that he’s soaking the cushion with pool water.
“Hey, you,” he says. He doesn’t even bother to pretend he cares about including me in this conversation. It’s as if I’m not there.
“Hi,” Isabel greets. She doesn’t ask him if he’s slept well—a point, I believe, in my favor.
God, listen to me. I’m keeping score. Pathetic.
“Missed you last night,” he says. I roll my eyes.
Isabel chuckles politely. Or at least that’s how I see it; there’s nothing funny about what Jaime said. “I was so gone last night,” she says. “I thought I was dying. If it wasn’t for Kieran—”
Jaime’s eyes snap to me. I smile. So now he acknowledges I’m here. Funny, that.
“You want to go for a walk?” he asks, eyes lingering on me before they slide over to Isabel. A smile curls on his lips, akin to the Cheshire cat’s. Makes me shiver at how predatory it looks.
Isabel hesitates. I hold my breath, and then—
“Okay, sure. You should change though.” She stands, slipping on her sandals.
Damn it.
“Come with me,” he says. “I’ll just grab a shirt upstairs.”
Don’t do it. Don’t do it.
“I’m okay,” she says. “I’ll wait for you out front.”
I blow out a relieved breath.
“I’ll come with,” I say, standing, still with the book in my hands.
“Where are you going?” Natalia asks.
“A walk around the block,” I answer. “I think.”
“Boo.” She pats the seat next to her. “Come make bracelets with us. We can make matching ones.”
Jaime hooks an arm around Isabel’s neck and leads her inside the house. I’m torn between going after them and being a good guest.
I catch Jaime glancing back at me and sticking out his tongue.
“Kieran,” Natalia says again. This time her tone is commanding. “Come here.”
I realize I have no choice. I just have to hope Isabel doesn’t do anything she’ll regret.