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Chapter One : Stereotypes

" Oh my god Gabriel. You need to get a new fucking car." My friend Olivia tells me clutching onto her seat belt for dear life.

I roll my eyes at her. She is so dramatic. Sure my car makes weird noises, the breaks don't work half the time, and I have to put air in my tires every other day. But it still runs and gets me to where I need to go.

" Do you want a ride to the nail salon or not?" I ask her.

" Of course I do! I'm just kidding. Your car is such a beauty with the worn-out point and creaking noises. It gives us that vintage feel, so chic." She says patting the dashboard, as a piece of the plastic that was already starting to come off, falls off.

I glare at her and she looks at me with a guilty smile. " See? Chic."

I swear she annoys me to the end. But I couldn't imagine my life without her. We have been friends since middle school. She was the first person that I ever came out too and now here we are, 11 years later, at the age of 21.

~

" Alright which one should I get?" She says holding out two bottles of nail polish. She always asks me the same question every time.

I groan at her. " Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I'm into this type of shit."

" Oh stop the stereotypes! Anybody can wear nail polish now. It's 2020. Did I ever tell you I got my ex-boyfriend to get a manicure with me?"

" And didn't he end up gay and hitting on me?" I remind her with a look.

" That's not the point. You should get your nails done." She says trying to convince me.

" If this will get you to stop irritating me, sure."

I can't believe I agreed to this but ten minutes later here I am sitting in a chair with them taking off something called 'cuticles'. I swear they always make some bullshit up to charge you extra. What the fuck is even a cuticle?

" See isn't this relaxing?" She asked me.

" Of course. Thirty-five bucks getting drained from my bank account is always a great time."
The nail technician gives me a look and I return one.

I am not the one who decided on these prices. Besides me being a part-time college student, and getting a majority of the money I have from selling my art at local shows, it doesn't leave me with too much leftover.

The rest of the time at the salon consisted of Olivia gossiping about what happened at the last party the frat boys had. Being the complete opposite of me. She makes it a tradition to try and attend everyone possible.

Olivia and I make our way back to our shared apartment. It's small if I'm being honest and definitely not in the safest part of town but it's the only thing we could afford with our shared salary.

I walk to the corner of my room, which I transformed into my own little studio. I wish that I was able to afford more, to add some stuff into my collection but I'm stuck with the bare minimum. Not that I mind since I manage with what I have.

Olivia walks up behind me. " I still don't understand why you don't try to and do more with your art. You are insanely talented"

" I am average at best." I tell her

" No, you are not. If I had an ounce of the talent that you had. I would make it known to the world."

" I already go to local art shows. I don't know what else I can do to give myself more exposure."

" You can find an agent, sign up for a contest." She tells. " I am heading out Gabriel. Just think about it! See you later."

It's not like I haven't thought about all of this before. But what are the chances that I out of all the other talented artists out there would get noticed? I'm not sure what is holding me back. Fear? Insecurity? Probably both.

Yeah, people have bought my work before. But those are people who I see every day in this town. It's different when you're trying to get everyone in the world to see. I know what's confusing but it's true.

As usual, here I am at night, alone with just me and my brush.