make you stay (g.d.)

one

*4 months after landing in australia*

elizabeth:

my hand moves stiffly across the canvas, and i grimace. "like—like this?" i ask my painting instructor, voice full of hope.

i try not to notice his wince. "yeah... like that."

frustrated, i slam the brush back into the water cup and let out a strangled noise i just needed to get out of my system. then, taking a deep breath, i pick the brush back up and try again.

"look, elizabeth," he sighs, pulling a chair up and sitting down on it backwards. "you have talent. loads of it. but, people aren't going to buy charcoal or colored pencil drawings. i'm here to teach you that it's almost the same thing, painting is."

"but max-"

"ah ah," he cuts me off with his thick australian accent, waving a finger. "no buts. just paint."

i nod, but before i can do anything, my timer goes off on my watch.

"ugh!" i exclaim, grabbing my bag and sandals that lie in it.

"what exactly are you always late for?" max asks me, smirking.

i give him a wild grin as an answer and escape out the art studio's door. my feet hit the bare earth and fresh air smacks me across the face, whipping my hair back behind me.

i wave at people as i run down the trails in the back-roots of my small corner in sydney. people just literally don't wear shoes here, but i'm not complaining.

as i pass by some shops, i slow my run to a walk and smile at everything around me. i'm so much happier here.

my watch beeps again, and i curse under my breath. sometimes i hate the noise of the thing, but recently i've stopped carrying my phone everywhere. it makes me enjoy everything so much more.

i spot a cord phone on the side of a building, and rush over to it. as i drop coins into the slot, i punch in the number of my apartment's home phone and pray that my roommate, charlotte (or charley for short) isn't sleeping.

finally on the third ring, a groggy voice picks up.
"hello?"

"charley," i say, rushed and glancing all around me nervously. "defrost the lasagna for lunch. i'll be home in a bit. i forgot about a shift i have." before she can answer, i slam the phone back into the holder.

with a big smile, i take off down the road just a bit more and swing into the açaí bowl and cafe just in the nick of time.

"you're lateee," my manager sings as he ticks his finger.

i only laugh and say, "roy. c'mon. you know i'm your hardest worker."

he rolls his eyes. "hardly," he grumbles.

i throw my bag into the break room and wash my hands, taking my position around the counter.

"hair up, apron on," roy reminds me with a disapproving look.

i sigh, pulling my hair into a messy ponytail. "long hair is called self expression."

"it's called a bad yelp review waiting to happen. who wants hairy açaí?"

i giggle and begin to brew the coffee behind the counter. when my hands are coated in coffee bean dust, i simply wipe my palms on my apron. me and my coworkers have contests to see who can have the dirtiest apron at the end of the day.

"just me today?" i yell over the brewing noise.

"shouldn't be too busy," roy responds, "just don't screw up."

taking the pot out from under the brewer, i give him my most reassuring grin. "do i ever?"

"all the time," he replies. "while i'm gone, don't let any more ankle biters run around in the cafe anymore, alright?"

"children, roy," i say calmly, hiding a smile. "they're called children."

"truly american," he mumbles as he disappears into the stock room.

i throw my head back in laughter as the bell dings on the glass door.

without looking up, i say happily, "welcome to aussie's number one açaí cafe. how may i help you?"
i glance up at the figure in front of me and do a double take.

forget that- i do a triple take.