44
Valentina
One more,” Huxley whispers a breath away from my lips before kissing me again.
I was only slightly surprised when my friends texted me about hanging out with them this weekend instead of with Huxley, like usual.
It’s true, Huxley and I have been spending pretty much every moment we can together. Not that I’m complaining. So we agreed we should spend some time apart. Although, Huxley seems to be struggling with that now that the time has come.
“I have to go,” I say through a laugh. Huxley shakes his head, a smirk spreading on his face as he threads his fingers through my hair.
“One more.” His lips land on mine again, and my breath leaves me. I push him back with no real strength, making him laugh, and we connect again.
I don’t want to leave. I’ve grown so comfortable in his presence that the thought of not seeing him till Monday sounds like hell. But I have to go.
“Huxley,” I breathe.
“Just one more, Love.” His lips barely skim over mine before we’re pulled apart.
“No more,” Birdie snaps. “Let’s go.”
Okay, what the hell? I know we agreed to spend this weekend together, but I didn’t think we were on a schedule or anything. So why is she angry?
Birdie continues to pull me away, so I throw a look over my shoulder back at Huxley. Collin approaches him and drapes his arm over his shoulders. “Don’t worry, Piano girl. I’ll keep him safe for you this weekend.”
“Please don’t kill him,” I call out.
Collin gives me a thumbs up. “I won’t.”
“I was talking to Huxley.”
Collin’s eyes widen a little, sending a slightly fearful look to Huxley.
“I won’t, Love. I’ll be good,” Huxley assures us both.
“You better.” I try to send a pointed look, but Birdie tightens her grip, making me wince instead.
“Have fun.”
I look over my shoulder enough to yell back, “You too.”
Huxley rolls his eyes, but Collin happily waves. Now I just have to deal with Birdie.
The three of us are sitting in our living room, eating takeout.
When they suggested a weekend together, I honestly thought they would drag me to a party or any other excursion that was outside our apartment.
Then again, they probably expected me to text Huxley where we were going, and he might show up there. So staying in it is, I guess.
Speaking of Huxley, none of us has brought him up. I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t bring him up since the whole point of this weekend is to spend time away from him, but after Birdie’s reaction on campus, I can’t help but want to get to the bottom of whatever’s bothering her. But I’ll wait.
Instead, we’ve been talking about our classes. Since Birdie is going into Psychology, Ava is going into History, and I’m an Art major, we all have something different we can talk about to keep the conversation going.
“What about you, Val?” Birdie asks. “How are your classes going?”
I stab a piece of chicken with my fork, but don’t lift it from my plate.
“I don’t know. Some days I feel like I have all this inspiration and thoughts that I want to get down, but when I look at a canvas, I can’t do anything with it.
I just end up writing it all down and hope that one day I’ll read it again and know what to do.
But right now, it’s just pathetic drawings that are barely getting me by. ”
“I think the better question is, do you even want to be in art anymore? I mean, your first year was spent jumping between how many different majors? Like you can draw, but is it really your passion?” Birdie and I watch Ava talk and pile food onto her plate.
She then scoops up a huge spoonful and shoves it into her mouth.
“And how are you in a history program when food is clearly your passion?”
Ava flips Birdie off and shoves more food into her mouth.
I, on the other hand, continue to push my food around on my plate. “I don’t know. Thinking about who I wanted to be when I was younger seemed so easy. People told me to dream, and so I did. Now, nothing seems practical.”
My fork stops. Huxley said similar words on our first date. But the difference between us is that he’s amazing at what he does, and he loves it. I’m mediocre at best, and I don’t see myself going into art anymore.
Well, to stare at art, that is. Art is such a vague concept, really. You can be an artist and paint. But you can also be an artist and…
“Well, what do you like?” Birdie asks.
Here goes nothing. “I like to sing.”
They both stop eating and stare at me. Yup. Exactly the reaction I expected.
“Because of?” She doesn’t say his name. I really thought that would bring Huxley into the conversation. Apparently, now isn’t the time.
I shrug. “We went to karaoke on our first date, and I sang for the first time then. And it felt good. I felt happy. And it just felt right.”
Never in my life did I think I would be talking about singing as a possible career choice. But it’s true, that moment with Huxley opened my eyes to something different. Something that let me feel joy in a way I didn’t think I ever would. A way I didn’t think I was allowed to either.
“Singing is a hard occupation to get into,” Ava chimes in.
“Right, because being an artist is so much easier.”
Ava nods and scrapes together another forkful. Before shoving it in her mouth, she adds, “Very true. You must not be afraid of much.”
She couldn’t be more wrong. I’m scared of everything.
Well. I used to be.
I never would have sung in front of anyone before Huxley, much less in front of Huxley himself. But something about him brings me a sense of peace. Like, I have nothing to worry about when he’s there. And if I am going to crash and burn, he’ll be right there to handle the flames.
I take a deep breath and finally force myself to take a bite of food. “Singing isn’t very practical either. Maybe I’ll go into finance or something.”
“How exciting,” Birdie says with mock enthusiasm.
Ava jumps into a story about the guy she’s seeing, steering us away from our plans for the future and away from Huxley. Not that we really talked about him, but he was brought up indirectly. I just don’t know why neither of them wants to talk about him. Or will even say his name.
They haven’t asked me how our relationship is going or even if we’ve gotten far in the things we’ve done. I thought that was something friends talk about. But then again, Birdie acted weird earlier when Huxley and I were saying goodbye. So I guess I’ll let them bring him up when they’re ready.