Potholes

Chapter 4

L.A. walked around the art gallery, a disposable flute of champagne in his hand, and took in the other artists' work. Paintings, sculptures, and other art mediums lined the walls and covered the floor tiles of the gallery. The dimming sun's glow started to be replaced by the artificial yellow glow of the light bulbs as night crept in. L.A. took a sip of his champagne and tapped his fingers on the plastic flute as he searched the crowd for a certain face.

It was only 6:45. People didn't start trickling in until 6:10. The larger groups came around 6:30. He wasn't sure why he was so anxious about Tulip's arrival. He just knew he was. He continued walking around, because he knew he would look jittery if he was standing still.

"L.A., I found your pets." Dakota came up to him with his sister, Shani, and her best friend, Robin.

"Bite me, Dakota," Shani hissed as she walked past him to greet her brother, "how's the exhibit going, L.A.? It looks like there's a lot of people here. Has anyone made you an offer yet?"

"Not yet. People seem to like my pieces, though."

"That's good. We walked around and looked at them when we first got here. Robin really liked the one with the different shades of blue." She smiled, attempting to indiscriminately glance at her friend.

"Uh, yeah. That was my favorite one." Robin smiled, hoping it seemed natural.

Shani had been trying to set L.A. up with Robin for the past year. L.A. had never been interested in Robin and still wasn't, but after a night of black-out drunk sex between the two 4 months ago, Shani and Robin are both convinced that he's secretly harboring feelings for the woman and are determined to bring them out.

"Cool, I'm glad you like it." L.A. offered a small smile, careful to make sure it didn't send the wrong message to the 2 delusional women in front of him.

"L.A., can you go sho-" His sister's words faded in the air as he looked over to the door and watched Tulip as she entered in. She had on a cream-colored oversized sweater, black skinny jeans, off-white Vans, and with her hair fully out. Her freed coils framed her heart-shaped face like a painting in the exhibit. L.A. placed his empty champagne flute down on a nearby table and made his way over to Tulip, fixing his black turtleneck as he approached her.

"Hey, Tulip, you made it." He smiled down at the shorter woman. She beamed up at him, which made his smile even bigger.

"Of course. Thank you for inviting me." A waiter walking by with a tray of filled champagne flutes offered one to her, which she graciously accepted.

"Do you want me to show you my paintings?" He asked.

"Definitely. That's the only reason I came."
Those words caused his heart to miss a. Beat, which he ignored as he guided her to his section.

"These 5 are mine." He motioned to the wall that housed his paintings for the evening.

"Oh my gosh, these are incredible." She gasped, walking closer to get a better look.

"You like them?"

"I love them. Especially these 3." She motioned towards his 3 abstract pieces. Each piece had a different color that made it up: red, blue, and yellow.

"Why these 3?"

"It feels like you used the 3 primary colors to symbolize the 3 most primal human emotions: anger, sadness, and happiness. Three colors that make up every other color in the world and 3 emotions that make up every other emotion in the world."

"What in the paintings makes you feel like that?"

"Your brushstrokes. With the red, your stokes are hard and chaotic. Like you mashed your brush against the canvas and just ripped it across. With the blue, your strokes are long and deliberate, as if you took your time with each stroke, and they continue even as the paint wears off the brush. With the yellow, your strokes are soft and organic. You just let your mind carry your hand over the canvas. Am I looking too deep into it?"