Chapter 7 #2
I breathe out heavily and close my eyes. It feels like no matter where I go, I’m trying to fight a battle of convincing people art is meant to be absorbed, not graded, and somehow that’s bled into this too.
Pushing the textbook towards Liliana, I say, “You should read this. It was a good textbook for you to pick. The romanticism art movement is about artists prioritizing their own imagination over traditional art structure.”
At the word “textbook” her eyebrows raise, and she leans closer to the book that had no value to me until Friday.
I’m thinking about other ways I can encourage her, convince her to give her own creativity a chance without curriculum and classroom rules, when a steaming cup is placed in front of me.
“I have a matcha latte for you, Grant.” A pale hand reaches over and sets a cup in front of Liliana, too. “And an iced hazelnut for you, Lil.”
Lil?
Her red-haired coworker I constantly see whispering things in Liliana’s ear throws a smirk at me. I’ve wondered before if there was something between them. If there is, and this is his way of telling me, I’ll respect it.
I’ll think about it for hours before I fall asleep tonight, beating myself up over every choice I made leading up to this moment, but I’ll respect it.
Her hand reaches up and pinches his hip. He jumps back, and they laugh together, and I force a smile.
“Kam, go away,” she says through pressed teeth. If I wasn’t straining my neck to catch every word, I probably would’ve missed it.
“What? I just wanted to stop by and leave some drinks for you guys.” Kam wiggles his eyebrows and turns to Liliana.
She groans, but her smile contradicts her.
“Please, go away.”
“And miss the fun?” He pops his hand on his hips and looks me up and down. “Have you told him about critique group on Monday? Maybe he can help you with that too.”
“Critique group?” I cast a questioning look at her while she shakes her head.
“Oh yeah, we’re in the same cohort. She told me you were going to help her with her assignment. Get her to participate in group discussions while you’re at it, because-”
“Kameron!” She pinches him again. This time he reaches for her side in the middle of his laughter.
The gnawing feeling in my chest is growing stronger each second.
Liliana and I were never close enough classmates to playfully pinch each other between giggles.
“Seriously, go away. Do your job. Count coffee grinds. Literally anything else.”
“But I want to tell Grant-”
“Go. Away.”
Her finger points to the back counter of the café. Begrudgingly he waves goodbye, and I at least have the courtesy to thank him for the matcha. A free drink is a free drink.
“I’m so sorry about him.”
“No worries.” The matcha does nothing to wash the bitter taste out of my mouth.
She shakes her head. “I bet you’re used to it with how much he flirts with you.”
I have to gulp the drink down quickly to avoid doing a spit take.
“What are you talking about?”
She giggles again, looking at me amazed. “There’s no way you haven’t noticed.”
Her cherry lip stain bunches around the corners of her mouth, and I note the shade of red to add to my palette later.
“Noticed what?”
“Kameron thinks you’re hot.” She laughs behind her hand.
“What?”
“He checks you out whenever you come in. Talks about you all the time.” Liliana glances over her shoulder and says something else, but I’m too focused on the fact he was just smiling at her.
“Are you sure he’s not into you?”
Her snort kills any skepticism I had left. “I promise you. I’m not his type.”
I hum to show I understand. His loss.
Thankfully.
I lean back into my chair and lazily grin with relief and realization.
“Well, I’m flattered.” Now that she’s mentioned it, I recall the times he’s checked in on me, and the random drink upgrades I constantly brushed off. Maybe I am oblivious. “Unfortunately for him, Kameron’s not my type.”
“Oh, really?” Amusement sparkles in the hazel of her eyes.
I shake my head but smile. This is the most animated and reactive I’ve seen her since we’ve started talking again—even beyond the lighthearted jokes. I can’t stop myself from chasing it.
“I have a specific type. He doesn't fit the description. Sorry.”
“He’s a great guy, I’ll have you know.” Her plush lips land on the tip of her straw, and electricity stirs throughout my body. “What is it about him that doesn’t appeal to you, then? Is it because he works at a café?”
I chuckle. Is she actually asking, or is she trying to play this game with me?
“No, I don’t mind that at all.”
Liliana hums, peeks back at Kam behind the counter. Her eyes are full of sincerity when she speaks, and I realize she’s genuinely curious.
“Is it because he’s in a writer's program, then?”
I laugh and instinctively place my hand over the textbook I brought here for her.
“No.”
“Okay, fine.” Her voice drops into a whisper. “It’s because he’s a guy.”
I smirk, raking my eyes along the plains of her features, soft and strong and so, so pretty. “No, Liliana. I’m bi, so that doesn’t matter to me.”
“Wait, really?”
Seeing the shock on her face sends laugher through me again. “Is that a problem?”
“No, no, of course not.” Her brows crease together and she leans into her hand. Strands of hair fall out in front of her face, framing her features. “I just thought that’s what you were getting at. Why isn’t he your type, then?”
I wonder again if she’s truly wants to know what it is about Kam that doesn’t interest me, or if she’s hooked on this conversation the way I am.
When seconds pass and she does nothing but wait for my answer, I accept that maybe it’s her being oblivious to romantic advances. Or maybe I didn’t make my feelings for her obvious enough when we used to huddle together during lecture and text each other into late hours of the night.
Slowly, my hand moves towards a strand of hair spilling out of her ponytail.
“He’s a redhead.” Twirling the piece of hair around my finger and relishing in the way her face flushes, I savor the feeling of it. It could be the last time I’m this close to her. “Did I ever tell you I've got a thing for brunettes?”
Her breath catches. Cheeks turn red. My gaze drops to her lips and I linger there so she can see it happen. I want her to process the expression on my face when I’m mesmerized by her.
Liliana coughs and leans back in her seat. Her hair falls out of my fingertips and I feel the loss instantly.
“Anyways.” She turns her attention back to what’s on the table. Her skin returns to her shade of tan, erasing the blush of an impact I had. “This art movement. You said it might be able to help me if I read over some stuff in the textbook. Where would you suggest I start?”
The air around us changes back to dull and lifeless.
I cough. That wasn’t the first time I gathered the courage to reach out and touch her hair, or the first time I’ve ever seen her flush a beautiful shade of pink.
But it’s the first time she’s ever purposefully pushed away from me and pretended like it never happened.
In undergrad, it was shy giggles and stares held a little too long to be platonic.
I’ve only admitted it to Derek, but back then, I think Liliana had a crush on me.
And if I had gathered up the courage when I needed to, we would be more than two people working through a textbook together.
I swallow and nod, to her and to myself.
“First, with that outline you liked.” Her face scrunches, and I continue before she can argue. “Forget what your classmates said. Talk to me about it, and we’ll dissect what works for you, inspiration-wise. Then you can work on that draft.”
“What about the textbook?”
A smile tugs at my lips. It’s so Liliana of her to want textbook logic to support a concept.
“I’ll reference the book and the movement to help us make sense of everything. Okay?”
She doesn’t answer with words, just motioning to the book between us. It’s more than enough of an answer to pave a way for my priorities. I came here for more than Locke. To start earning back Liliana’s friendship. I’m not sure if I deserve a second chance, but I’m willing to work for it.
And if I’m lucky, maybe I’ll earn my way back into her heart, too.