Painting Paper Hearts | ✔

Chapter 27- What I Want

My head went fuzzy from the impending amount of work I had to do in the future. "Don't get me wrong but... dancing? It sounds like I'm a sudden Royal and needs to learn how to dance."

My remark caused Mae to giggle. "Trust me— dancing is not just about how to groove and follow the rhythm but it also embodies proper posture. It's a fun way to learn that."

"Do I really have to?" I pressed on in hopes that she might think twice but my hope quickly shattered when Maegan shook her head.

"Seeing how you like to duck your head and disappear in the middle of a social gathering— yes, it's a must. Take these social event as networking— talk to people, get to know them because you will need them in the near future. Believe it or not, no matter how high your GPA is or how prestigious your school is, not knowing anybody in the business is tough. It's who you know so build your network early."

I took another sip of my tea as I made a mental note to become more talkative to the guests and actually interact— not just smile and nod at what they were saying.

Truth be told, I was a bit biased when I assumed that my cousins didn't have to work twice as hard as the previous generation because they already had it all. But I was horribly wrong.

Maegan and Reagan worked as hard as their father to be where they were now. Who would have known that the bubbly Maegan and the super serious Reagan finished their degree being at the top of their class and right after school, they began working with the family company. But they did not stop there. The Darlington's were a philanthropist at heart as the twins became in charge of managing the family's non-profit organizations.

As for Maegan... well... I was a little surprised at what she had been doing on the side. I was simply impressed by how she had managed to juggle her time to become the businesswoman she was by day, and a writer by night.

Yes— Maegan Darlington was Denise De Vonnie by night— a writer of twisted thrillers that revolved around gory murders and accidents with steamy, hot sex. I was fortunate enough to read her early draft of her new thriller book and needless to say, her books were not for the faint-hearted as the images it painted in my head had left me sleepless for a few days.

Yup. Never judge a book by its cover, alright.

"What's up with you and Cedric? Are you guys dating?" I was snapped out of my reverie when Maegan suddenly popped the question I dreaded to hear. Her hopeful eyes glimmered in anticipation and she made herself more comfortable in her seat as if I was about to tell her a compelling love story of all time.

In my utmost honest and cool tone, I replied to her, "No, we're not. He's just a friend."

Her mouth pouted like a child, unconvinced. "Oh come on! I won't spill to anyone."

"I'm telling the truth! We're not like that. He's just helping me out with—" I was a breath away from saying Marcus's name and thank goodness I realized I was about to cross the line.

"Help you with what?"

"... with... stuff." My eyes diverted to the mug in my hand, escaping her curious eyes. "Umm is there anything else I need to know?" I instantly added to distract her from asking further.

"Now that you remind me, my dad put me in charge of enrolling you to a university in Toronto since he's too occupied with work to handle that. You know, CEO duties can really cramp up his time," She raised an interesting point which made me sit up straight, my eyes on her. "And I'm going to be frank with you, too. Dad expects you to go to Rotman since we all attended the same school. Even granddad graduated from there."

"Rotman?" Although I'd seen some of the educational institution in the heart of downtown, I hadn't had the time to research about their art program.

"Yes, Rotman School of Management has really good reputations in terms of their business degrees, you know? I'm also a proud True Blue!" she exclaimed with apparent excitement in her eyes then winked.

But my mouth gaped at what she just told me. School of Management. Oh dear Lord. They wanted me to attend a business school?!

"There must be a mistake— I'm not a business student,"

"I know and don't worry about it because we'll make arrangements and we'll make it work," she retorted.

I shook my head in dismay. "I don't think you get it. I am not transferring to another program. I'm an art major and I will finish in that major." My tone was stern; seriousness apparent in it as my nose flared in anger.

How could they do this to me? Was this the price I had to pay to live with the Darlington's— to become one of them, to follow their footsteps and someday take a part in running the company?

If that was how it was then, I didn't want any of it.

I was about to walk out and forget all the nonsense my cousin told me when she stopped me with a defeated sigh. "I knew you're going to revolt against the idea of taking up business. I'm not telling you to give up art— you can double major in it if you want,"

"But art is my passion and I don't intend on wasting my time into learning the business." I bravely told my cousin. Plain and simple. After a prolonged silence, she let out the breath she had been holding in.

"I know. I know how you feel because I was in your shoes back then. You're very talented and it's apparent at how much passion you've poured into your craft but it's not practical. There must be a market out there who will willingly buy art at their disposal— that's for sure— but think about yourself. Not every art gallery in Toronto will feature your art, and not every buyer will purchase your art and what are you going to do when they don't?"

"Look, you are barely scraping the surface of reality. Take up business, work with us, and then work on your art on the side. Trust me, it will work out just fine because you already have the basic requirement for doing what you love— you already have passion. It's a practical move, Emerald. It won't hurt you."

"But—"

"Give it a thought. Come see me when you make up your mind, okay?"

Anger filled me in an instant. It was fiery, devouring me as it filled my blood with mighty rage. How could she say that? How could they choose what they wanted for me without even consulting me? I fought this fight the first time with my mother and I didn't want to do this again! I didn't want to hurt anybody's feeling in this house but I didn't want to follow them around like I had no freedom at all!

"I'm not changing my program just because Uncle Richard expects me to take one."

"You're taking this out of context, Emerald. It's for your own good, too."

"Really?" My chest tightened as my breathing hitched. "Because all I see from your expectations is to become a shadow of you two. The dance lessons, social etiquette— I'm not like you. I don't fancy the stuff you grew up having or the lifestyle that you live in."

"Emerald," she sounded impatient as she let out a long sigh.

"I'm really thankful that you guys are thinking about my own good but please, at least let me decide about what I want to do. Have a goodnight."

The air grew thick between our pause— our eyes matching its fierceness and apparent sign that none of us dared to back down. She stated her point and I defended my reasons. I had no more words to tell her as I had said enough. I stood, turned my back and marched away without saying any more to her.

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A/N: This is originally longer than this but I decided to split it to two since it'll be too much for you guys. I hope you enjoy!

The song is so fitting too. Who loves paramore? Say I!

♪♫ Playing God by Paramore ♫♪