Chapter 24 #2
His reply is instant.
Quit being annoying and come outside.
So demanding. So irritating. So utterly irresistible.
“Hey,” Emi greets me, sweaty from dancing, with an equally sweaty Daphne in tow. “We’re being summoned outside. Grab all your things, we’re not coming back in.”
I stuff my phone in my clutch and pull the little chain out so I can wear it like a purse, leaving my hands free to hug everyone scattered on the dance floor goodbye. When I get to Kalani, we stand in front of each other, silently assessing and considering our words.
“Um, I guess I’ll see you on Monday at grad?” I start tentatively, not sure what else can be said.
She shifts uncomfortably and doesn’t meet my eyes. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Right. Okay, um . . . bye.”
“Wait, Carina,” she calls, playing with the sparkly prom queen sash nervously before dropping her hands.
“I just want to say I’m sorry for everything that’s happened.
I felt bad because my life is falling apart, and I just wanted someone else to feel bad like I do.
It was wrong. I know it’s hard to believe, but I really am sorry. ”
I can acknowledge that it takes a big person to admit fault and own up to their mistakes, and I appreciate that she’s apologizing to me, but it doesn’t change what happened.
I’m sad. It hurts to lose your best friend, the person I thought knew me better than anyone.
But maybe somewhere along the line, we stopped being as good of friends as I thought we were.
“I know you’re sorry,” I say finally. “I am too. But it doesn’t change everything that happened.” There’s too much damage done to properly reconcile.
“Carina!” Emi calls from the exit of the hall. “Come on!”
“I’ve got to go,” I tell Kalani, slowly backing away. “Congratulations on winning prom queen, and I hope you have a good summer.”
“Yeah, you too.”
And with that, I walk away from my best friend of ten years, feeling like complete strangers, but at the same time, being at peace with it.
Together with Emi and Daphne, I exit the banquet hall and venture into the dark parking lot illuminated by tall lampposts, finding Jay, Caleb, Ralph, Nico, and some of their other friends chatting around a group of cars. They’ve all swapped out their formal wear for casual pants and shirts.
Jay straightens from the car he was leaning on as he spots us heading over to them.
He’s in a light-pink linen button-up shirt that’s undone almost to his navel, showing off his sculpted chest, which brings a blush to my face as I remember pressing up against it in nothing but my bikini.
He looks downright lickable, especially as I feel his heated eyes scan me from the top of my updo to the tips of my Louboutin stilettos, no doubt looking for that panty line I teased him about earlier.
“There you are!” Ralph calls out to the three of us. “Come on, Jada’s throwing a party. There’s a bonfire and everything. Let’s go!”
“Hell yeah!” Emi exclaims, running over. “Which one of you is driving me back to my house so Daph and I can get changed?”
Ralph hooks his arms around Daphne and Emi’s shoulders, leading them away as Jay closes the space between us. Before Emi disappears into Ralph’s vehicle, she glances back at me with a not-so-subtle head nod in Jay’s direction and a wink, a look that says, Drive with him alone!
“You were wearing a red dress the first time we met,” Jay greets me, stopping in front of me.
He runs a large, warm hand down my side, leaving tingles in its wake, halting at my hip and giving it a possessive squeeze.
His eyes blaze as he admits, “And like that day, you’re so fucking beautiful it’s hard to believe you’re real. ”
The admission makes my heart stutter, and I place my arms on his wide shoulders for stability, connecting my hands behind his neck.
“And unlike that day, I don’t have the overwhelming urge to punch you in the face,” I tease as he pulls me closer.
“Give me a couple minutes, I’m sure I can think of something to inspire that urge again.”
“Don’t ruin the moment!” I exclaim as he uses his free hand to tilt my jaw up, his burning gaze sending fire through my veins.
“You started it,” he breathes, his lips skimming mine, an intoxicating anticipation coursing through me.
But before I can feel the tantalizing pressure of his lips that I’m yearning for, a passing car honks, making us jump apart.
Ralph pulls up beside us, all the windows in his car rolled down, with Emi and Daphne in the back seat and a convoy of his friends’ cars behind him.
“Don’t take forever to get to the party,” he calls, sticking his head out the window. “You two grossly cute lovebirds can make out all night, so quit standing around and hurry up and get to Jada’s.”
Emi waggles her eyebrows suggestively from behind him, and Jay answers by giving them both the finger.
“We’ll be waiting!” Ralph yells as he pulls away. The other cars follow, and in the last car is Jay’s best friend Caleb, who waves from the driver’s seat as he passes.
“Sometimes I wonder why I’m friends with him,” Jay jokingly says about Ralph as we watch the last of the red taillights disappear down the street.
“You mean it’s not for his impeccable style?” I ask as we walk through the parking lot to my car, my heels clicking on the asphalt.
“Retro bowling alley carpet chic isn’t really my style. But if you’re into that, I can ask him where he shops.”
My objection is quick. “Don’t you dare!”
When he laughs, I add, “Plus, I’ve really come to enjoy seeing you in your signature color.”
“I have a signature color?”
How does he not know his signature color? Maybe it’s my artist eye picking up on it, or maybe he doesn’t realize he keeps gravitating toward the color pink, but I shake my head instead of answering him.
“Maybe this will help,” I say, pressing the button to open the trunk of my car. “I finished it a few days ago, and I’ve been waiting to give it to you.”
The trunk slowly opens, and my nerves grow more and more intense with each inch it reveals. Doubts cross my mind, but I push them away just as quickly as they pop up.
With hands steadier and more confident than I feel, I reach in and pull out the twelve-by-sixteen canvas, turning it to face him.
He gasps. Like an audible gasp that I’ve never heard from Jay before.
“Carina . . .” He trails off, and I realize I must’ve really caught him off guard because it’s one of the rare times he’s called me by my actual name.
I’m always nervous when sharing my work with others, but it feels more intimate, more nerve-racking when Jay’s gaze glides along canvas, taking in each and every detail of the painting I poured my soul into.
Every stroke, every color, every texture is a reflection of my vulnerability and the feelings that I laid bare on the canvas that night he left my house after the video went viral.
It’s a portrait in my contemporary style and limited color palette, and it’s of Jay.
He once told me I should paint him because he’s the handsomest guy I know, and I can’t deny that he’s made an incredible subject for this painting.
I surprised even myself by conveying his personality and spirit so masterfully in this one still image, or at least, conveying how I see him.
I’ve captured his intense, smoldering eyes, his playful yet cocky smirk, his charming but guarded personality.
The entire thing is done in different shades and tones of pink, perfect for Jay, but it also lends the painting both a playful calmness and a passionate ferocity that’s distinctly Jay.
It might be my favorite portrait I’ve ever painted.
“Holy shit,” he breathes, finally lifting his gaze from the painting to meet my eyes. “You’re incredible. This is the best art I’ve ever seen.”
His words and the way he’s looking at me are so raw and genuine that it leaves me breathless, making the air around us thick with an electric tension.
I suddenly know that Jay, the boy who’s so irritating and knows exactly how to get under my skin and threatened to throw me off a cliff, gets me.
And he gets my art, my feelings, and my view and interpretation of the world.
Suddenly feeling stripped bare and vulnerable, I attempt to lighten the mood by joking, “You’re only saying that because it’s a painting of you, and your ego is bigger than the canvas.”
He doesn’t take the bait, his eyes still so beautifully sincere and overwhelming, causing the butterflies in my stomach to erupt in a frenzy. “No. I mean it. You are so fucking talented, Carina. Can I keep it?”
“Yeah, I, um . . .” I clear my throat, shaking off the way my body’s reacting to his praise. “I made it for you.”
“Thank you,” he says, taking the painting and looking at it again like he’s noticing more details this time around. “You really, really should consider going to college for art instead of business.”
“Actually, I had a call with an academic advisor from OCAD the other day, that art school I didn’t think I was good enough for, and I decided I’m going to apply.”
“Really? That’s amazing!”
His excitement is infectious, and the last of my nerves morph into confidence.
He’s the first person I’ve told besides my parents, and they’re always supportive, so it’s encouraging to know he’s rooting for me too.
And if there’s one thing I know about Jay, it’s that he’d never lie to me, even if it hurt my feelings—especially if it hurt my feelings— so he’d tell me if I was making a stupid decision.
“It’s part of the whole grab-life-by-the-balls philosophy I’ve recently adopted,” I say.
His lips twitch, remembering when he told me to grab life by the balls when we were at Boscoe’s pop-up art exhibit.
When he doesn’t comment on it, I continue, “If I’m accepted, it will be for next year. But the academic advisor said the courses I’m planning on taking at Toronto Metropolitan University will count as transfer credits, so I’ll only be behind by a few credits instead of a whole year.”
“I’m happy for you, Princess. You’re making the right call.” He gently places the painting back in the trunk, only dragging his eyes away from it at the last second. “What’s changed from the last time we talked about it?”
I shrug. What hasn’t changed? “I was scared of putting myself out there before and facing rejection. But after everything that’s happened, I figured who cares if they reject me? At least I tried.”
“Grabbing life by the balls,” Jay repeats approvingly with a grin as I close the trunk and we walk to our respective sides of the car. Looking at me over the roof, he says, “This calls for celebration. Why don’t we go cliff jumping? You’re practically a pro at it now.”
“Absolutely not. Once was enough for my entire lifetime.”
He laughs as we open our car doors and slide into our seats, not surprised by my response at all. The small space of my car instantly fills with the delicious spicy, fresh scent that’s distinctly Jay, and I barely stop myself from making my infatuated sniffing obvious.
“All right,” Jay says as I start the car. “How about tacos? Tomorrow night? I promise you won’t have to jump out a bathroom window or fake an emergency call. We might even make it through appetizers this time.”
It would be nice to actually taste the tacos this time instead of frantically stuffing them into my mouth to make a hasty escape. And the fact that it would be with Jay, a guaranteed good time, is a bonus too.
My laugh is carefree as I pull out of the parking lot, excited for the first time about what the unknown future holds.
“It’s a date.”