Chapter 11 Stolen Time #2
The walk felt much longer than it actually was.
By the time they entered the office, he had convinced himself that some terrible academic disaster awaited.
Professor Carter closed the door behind them.
Then she sat down.
Smiling.
Still smiling.
The expression confused him.
People delivering bad news generally didn't look that pleased.
"Elliot."
"Yeah?"
The professor folded her hands.
"I submitted some of your work."
His brain immediately stalled.
"What?"
The smile widened.
"I hope you don't mind."
Several seconds passed.
Elliot blinked.
Twice.
"I'm sorry, what?"
Professor Carter laughed softly.
The reaction suggested she enjoyed surprising students.
Possibly too much.
"A few weeks ago, representatives from a scholarship program contacted several professors."
The words barely registered.
Scholarship.
Representatives.
Program.
His brain struggled to connect the pieces.
Professor Carter continued.
"They were looking for emerging artists."
Silence.
Then more silence.
Elliot stared.
Slowly, understanding began forming.
"You submitted my work?"
The professor nodded.
Several paintings.
Sketches.
Portfolio samples.
The explanation continued, yet Elliot barely heard it.
Because one sentence echoed repeatedly inside his head.
You submitted my work.
His work.
Not another student's.
His.
A strange mixture of excitement and disbelief settled in his chest.
"Why?"
The question escaped before he could stop it.
Professor Carter's expression immediately softened.
The answer seemed obvious to her.
"Because you're talented."
The certainty in her voice struck him.
Again.
Just as it had on the first day of class.
People had complimented his art before.
Friends.
Family.
Teachers.
Yet Professor Carter spoke differently.
Not encouraging.
Certain.
The distinction mattered.
A lot.
"What program?"
The professor opened a folder.
Then she handed him several documents.
Elliot glanced down.
The name alone nearly made him drop the papers.
The Harrison Institute Fellowship Program.
His pulse accelerated.
Because he knew exactly what it was.
Every serious art student did.
The fellowship offered advanced training, mentorship, gallery exposure, and connections throughout the professional art world.
Thousands applied every year.
Very few were accepted.
The program operated from a renowned arts institute in another state.
Far from Texas.
Far from Willow Ridge.
Far from everything familiar.
Elliot looked up.
Certain there had been some mistake.
"Professor..."
She smiled.
"I know."
"No, I don't think you do."
"I do."
The confidence remained infuriatingly steady.
Elliot stared at the documents again.
The possibility felt absurd.
Impossible.
Terrifying.
Wonderful.
All at once.
"This is huge."
"Yes."
"I probably won't get in."
"Maybe."
The professor leaned forward slightly.
"But that's not the point."
He frowned.
"Then what is?"
"You deserve the opportunity to try."
The words settled heavily.
Because deep down, that was the real issue.
Not fear of rejection.
Fear of possibility.
Trying meant believing.
Believing meant hoping.
And hoping always carried risk.
The realization lingered long after the meeting ended.
By the time Elliot left campus, the folder remained tucked securely beneath his arm.
His mind raced.
The scholarship represented everything he'd once dreamed about.
Professional opportunities.
National recognition.
A path toward becoming the artist he wanted to be.
Yet alongside the excitement came something unexpected.
Guilt.
The emotion surprised him.
Because this should have been simple.
A good thing.
An amazing thing.
So why did it suddenly feel complicated?
The answer arrived before he reached his car.
Damon.
Of course.
Everything seemed to lead back to Damon lately.
The scholarship existed in another state.
Possibly thousands of miles away.
A completely different future.
A completely different life.
The realization sat heavily in his chest.
For the first time, the dream felt real.
And reality carried consequences.
The following week passed in a blur.
Classes.
Volunteering.
Painting.
Applications.
Every spare moment disappeared into preparing materials for the fellowship.
Portfolio reviews.
Artist statements.
Interviews.
The amount of work felt overwhelming.
Exciting.
Terrifying.
Most importantly, secret.
Elliot didn't tell many people.
Professor Carter knew.
A few faculty members knew.
Nobody else.
Not even Roy.
Definitely not Damon.
At first, he told himself he was waiting for something concrete.
There was no point discussing possibilities.
Not yet.
The explanation sounded reasonable.
The problem was that it wasn't entirely true.
Part of him simply didn't know how.
How exactly was he supposed to tell Damon that the future he'd dreamed about might take him somewhere else?
Somewhere far away.
The thought made his stomach hurt.
Which was ridiculous.
Nothing had happened yet.
There wasn't even an acceptance.
Just an application.
A possibility.
Yet somehow that possibility already felt dangerous.
One evening, Elliot sat alone in his bedroom reviewing portfolio materials when his phone buzzed.
An unfamiliar email notification appeared.
For several seconds, he simply stared.
His pulse accelerated.
Slowly, he opened the message.
The sender's name matched the fellowship program.
Immediately, every nervous thought disappeared.
The world narrowed.
The email wasn't long.
Professional.
Polite.
Straightforward.
Yet every word felt important.
The committee had reviewed his preliminary submission.
They were impressed.
Very impressed.
They wanted additional materials.
Additional interviews.
Further consideration.
The message stopped short of acceptance.
But the meaning remained clear.
Interest.
Real interest.
The kind artists dreamed about.
For several seconds, Elliot couldn't breathe.
Then he laughed.
A shocked, disbelieving sound.
Because this was happening.
Not guaranteed.
Not final.
But real.
The possibility had transformed into something tangible.
Something frighteningly close.
Emotion flooded through him.
Excitement.
Pride.
Fear.
Hope.
Every feeling arrived at once.
The email blurred slightly.
He blinked.
Twice.
Then smiled.
A huge smile.
The kind impossible to suppress.
Professor Carter had been right.
Maybe there was a bigger world waiting.
Maybe his dreams weren't impossible after all.
The realization felt incredible.
For about thirty seconds.
Then reality returned.
Damon.
The smile faded slightly.
Because suddenly the excitement felt complicated again.
The fellowship represented opportunity.
Growth.
Everything he'd wanted.
Yet for the first time in his life, he had something else he wanted too.
Someone.
The thought settled heavily.
Uncomfortably.
Elliot stared at the email.
Then at the phone in his hand.
Instinctively, he wanted to tell Damon.
The urge surprised him.
Whenever something important happened, Damon had become the person he wanted to share it with.
The realization alone said far too much.
Yet he didn't call.
Didn't text.
Didn't say anything.
Instead, he closed the email and set the phone aside.
Just for now.
Just until he understood what it all meant.
The explanation sounded reasonable.
Necessary.
Yet deep down, he knew the truth.
He was afraid.
Afraid of what the opportunity represented.
Afraid of what Damon might say.
Afraid of what he himself might choose.
Outside his bedroom window, the lights of Willow Ridge glowed softly against the Texas night.
Somewhere nearby, Damon was probably finishing work.
Probably thinking about tomorrow.
Probably imagining a future that still included this town.
Included him.
The thought tightened something painful inside Elliot's chest.
Because for the first time since falling in love, two dreams stood directly in front of him.
And he wasn't sure whether they were leading in the same direction.
As the email sat quietly in his inbox, holding possibilities capable of changing everything, Elliot made a decision.
For now, he would keep it secret.
At least until he understood what his heart truly wanted.
Unfortunately, he was beginning to suspect that answer wouldn't be simple at all.
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