Fish Eyes

13

When it came to Young Art, I really wanted to be useful. The only issue was that I hadn't an artistic bone in my body. I also didn't want Lawrence pulling all the weight. I was honestly tired of trying and being shit at things, but I was kind of stuck in our competition agreement. Especially after I'd promised so much.

This Cole situation was a welcome diversion.

And I was excited about my date, really. Being at that private school never really put me in a dating pool before. I wasn't active in any clubs or sports. I didn't go to social events, with the exception of that one fateful football game. I'd never really had a stab at romance. And it felt like Cole just fell into my lap. He was fine and athletic and all the things that girls liked, so I wanted to try it.

Lawrence looked up at me and squinted his eyes at me again, this time even more aggressive. "Bet."

He closed his book, stood up, and shouldered his bookbag before walking out of the library.

"What's got his panties in a twist?" I picked at my nails as I watched him leave. Lawrence had been nothing but kind and patient with me thus far, but he seemed genuinely pissed off.

"Don't ask me," Wendy smiled as if she knew why.

"You know."

"I do not."

I huffed and crossed my arms. "He thinks I'm not deep. I'm deep. I'm totally deep. I watch movies and cry and all that shit. I just choose not to read books," I flailed my arms out from my body with my volume raising without me realizing. The lady behind the front desk glared at me from across the room. I made a show to zip my lips before turning back to Wendy.

"You know. Artist types. They get broody and whatnot," Wendy shrugged her shoulders and looked at me before scrolling through her phone.

"I'll show his ass," I got up, and very lightly, slammed my hands down on the table. "I'm going to go get a book."

I walked up to the same lady that had just glared at me for yelling in the library. "How would I go about getting a book?" I asked her while leaning up against the table.

She stopped typing and side-eyed me before smirking. "You need a library card, sweetheart."

"Do I have to pay money?"

I in fact, did not have to pay money. The only issue was the long ass time it took to fill out those forms, or so it felt. I was ready to read right then and there. If Lawrence wanted to play, we could play.

I got my little card and punched my key ring through it before browsing the shelves. I was almost  a grown woman and couldn't remember for the life of me how books were organized in a library. I vaguely remembered them teaching us about the Dewey Decimal System before the book fairs every year. I retained nothing.

Even without acute knowledge of library set-ups, I could tell clearly as day that I was in the non-fiction section when I didn't want to be. I wanted something fire.

I browsed and pulled books from the shelves, trying to make something catch my eye. My book cover judging skills were clearly not honed, because I had no idea what I was looking at. I looked around as if people were watching me or cared before pulling my phone out to google "Love in Color." I crossed my fingers that I'd remembered the title correctly.

Thankfully the book's warm, bright cover popped up and reassured me that I had indeed remembered the title correctly. I skated back over to the front desk to see if the library had it in stock.

When I got the book I returned to our table, not in the mood to talk anymore. "Can we dip? I need to read this."

Wendy chuckled while staring at the book in my hand. "What?" I asked her, slightly irritated.

"Lawrence was our ride."

My face got hot as I said, "We'll call an Uber."

I grabbed my big tote with one hand and nudged Wendy to get up with the other, sick of being in the library for the day.

When I stormed out of the library, trying to find a signal to order our damn Uber, I spotted Lawrence standing near his car, still reading his book.

My face grew even hotter as I worked to shove the book in my tote before he noticed me.

"You done?" he asked without looking up. I prayed he didn't see the book. I prayed he had some kind of sixth sense that let him know I was there.

"Uh, yeah," I said ashamedly before crossing my arms and crossing the street to get to his car. "I thought you left."

"I'm your ride."

"But you're mad at me."

"And why would I be mad at you?" he asked before smirking at me for what felt like the first time in an eternity. I felt my heartbeat slow up.

"Because I'm a flake."

"That, you are. But you just gave me an idea."

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