Vanessa
"You go first," I said to Ryan as we sat across from each other on the hardwood floor of his studio. "I'm too nervous to start."
It was the week before Christmas break and our writing assignment was due the following day. We had our stories laid out before us, ready to share.
Clearing his throat, he nodded as he picked up his work and shook the papers out with a flourish.
"Everyone knows the story of Ariel, the beautiful mermaid with the flaming red hair and spirited desire to explore the human world. She would stop at nothing to achieve her dream. However, this isn't about Ariel. This is the tale of Aquaria, the mermaid with silver-white hair and a tail of blue."
"Whereas Ariel was vibrant and warm, Aquaria was icy and closed off. Instead of embracing the land above her and daring to explore it, she developed a deep-seated fear of the unknown."
"Aquaria swam away from what frightened her, not knowing that if she actually gave what terrified her a chance, she would seek the happiness that she had yet to find in her cold and isolated kingdom..."
Ryan's story continued with Aquaria's adventures of being forced to live in the human world after being taken hostage by a group of sailors who called themselves, The Manhattans. She was resistant to learning the ways of this strange culture until one day, she met a young cobbler whom she fell madly in love with. She got to see the land through the cobbler's eyes and slowly found herself as enamored with her new home as she was with him.
After he finished reading, Ryan glanced up at me expectantly.
"Wow," I breathed. "You really nailed my character." My cheeks instantly flushed warm as I scrambled to rephrase that sentence. "I mean...you summed me up quite nicely."
He beamed at me. "Thanks. I wasn't sure it was any good. Give me a paintbrush and I'm a modern day Da Vinci but thrust a pen my way and suddenly, I'm all thumbs."
With a grin on his face, he patted my knee. "Okay, your turn."
I held up my palm. "Not so fast. Who is this cobbler that you speak of? I don't seem to recall having been swept up in the throes of passion by a New Yorker."
He threw his head back, laughing loudly. "Ah, you see, that's where my creative liberties came into play. Everybody loves a steamy romance with a sexy male lead, so I infused one into my tale."
Gathering up my assignment, I smiled. "I'm happy to hear you say that. Because that's exactly what I have in store for you."
My cheeks burned crimson as I realized that I was inferring that since my story revolved around him, I considered him to be sexy. I shook my head. "Um...yea. How about I just read it?"
He gestured at me. "Go ahead. I eagerly await."
I took in a deep breath, focusing on the words splashed across the page.
"Bryan wasn't the type of guy to fall in love easily. In fact, he wasn't certain if he had ever been in love before. He had short-lived romances but none of them captured his attention for more than two weeks."
"He was content with living his life the way that it was with art being his only mistress. However, what he didn't know was that everything was about to change the day he met Sierra."
"She had a vivacious smile and hair wilder than the untamed sea. She-"
"Stop," Ryan interjected.
I glanced up from my work to see him holding up his hand, the broad smile that he had worn only moments before, dropped from his face. The warmth in his peridot gaze that I had begun to familiarize myself with was suddenly replaced by something far colder and darker.
The abrupt change sent chills down my spine and turned my palms clammy.
"W...What's wrong?" I stammered, my voice trembling. "Did I do something to upset you?"
He scoffed. "Did you do something to upset me?" He repeated in disbelief.
He pointed at my papers. "Vanessa, you grossly overstepped. You know nothing about the bond that me and Sienna shared so how can you think that it's acceptable to put it into words?"
"I...didn't mean to offend you," I stuttered, panic bubbling in my chest.
Green eyes flashing, he stared at me. "What happened with Sienna is my story to tell. Not yours," he bit out, jabbing at his chest.
With jaw dropped, I watched him helplessly, unsure if I should stay or go. But he answered that question for me.
He looked at me, his gaze devoid of the cozy welcomeness that I had come to expect whenever I glanced at him. "You can leave."
"I'm sorry," I whispered, fumbling to stuff my belongings into my bookbag as swiftly as possible.
He wandered over towards the window, his back facing me as he studied the skyline, and I knew that my apology had been dismissed.
I slipped out the door before leaning against it. Then blowing out my breath, I slapped my forehead. "You idiot," I scolded myself. "Why did you think that it would be a brilliant idea to reopen a fresh wound?"
With a shake of my head, I pushed off the frame and headed back towards my dorm, the city feeling lonelier than ever now that I had lost my only friend.
***
On the final day of class, I handed in my assignment as it was, realizing that it was too late to redo it. Not that I would even know how as that would require Ryan's cooperation and input and he wasn't even speaking to me.
Blowing out of the classroom as though he were a frigid wind, he stormed past me in the hallway, treating me like I didn't exist. No grumbled goodbye or even a glance of acknowledgement. I had ceased to exist to him.
And it haunted me.
On the train back to Connecticut, I replayed the reel of that afternoon in his apartment, the angry sparks from his gaze igniting into a blazing flame that would engulf whatever bond had been growing between us.
With a sign, I pressed my forehead to the windowpane as the station slowly came into focus. A small smile tugged upon noticing Matt standing on the platform, waving a bouquet of roses at me.
"I don't want to fight about Addison," he whispered when I stepped from the carriage, and he wrapped me up in a tight embrace. "It's Christmas and I just want to enjoy our time together."
"Addison?" I asked, tilting my head to one side.
Oh, right. Our argument.
So consumed was I with thoughts of how I had screwed my friendship up with Ryan that I hadn't even given an ounce of energy to dwelling on how my best friend was probably aiming to steal my boyfriend.
Honestly, V. Did you really have to write about his dead girlfriend? You moron.
"I'm not mad anymore," I murmured distractedly, following Matt to his vehicle. "I overreacted."
He stared at me skeptically, my silence planting seeds of doubt inside his head. He cleared his throat. "I have a surprise for you."
I glanced over. "Yea?"
He nodded. "I do but I can't tell you what it is until we get back to my house."
The surprise as it turned out, was dinner. Upon arriving at his place, he excitedly shuffled me into the dining area where he had set the table with cutlery and plates painted with red poinsettias.
He hurriedly disappeared into the kitchen before re-emerging with a pot in his hand and a dimpled grin on his face. "I've been practicing preparing this for you all month long," he announced triumphantly.
He took off the lid to the dish with a flourish. "Look, I made spaghetti and meatballs!" Scooping out a pile of noodles onto my plate, he continued. "I attempted garlic bread as well but unfortunately there was a small fire, and they were the casualties."
He shook out a linen napkin and placed it on my lap before giving me a peck on the head. "I contemplated replacing our loss with a salad but then I thought to myself, 'Whoa, Matt, let's not get crazy here.' "
I watched in horror as he poured a pure red liquid over my meal. "Um...what's that meant to be?" I asked, pointing at his addition.
He gave me a funny stare. "Tomato sauce. Homemade."
I nodded. "Oh, and how did you do that?"
He shrugged. "It was simple. I cut it in half and juiced it the same way you would a lemon."
"I don't think..." I cleared my throat, stabbing a meatball instead. "Never mind. It sounds delicious."
Matt took a seat at the table, and I grimaced as he took a bite of his food and appeared unfazed by the disgusting texture of the tomato "sauce."
"So," he began, reaching for his water glass. "Tell me how your last week of classes went. How did you make out with that writing assignment?"
Ugh. Don't remind me. Vanessa, you fool. Ryan's deceased lover? Really?
"Fine," I lied.
"That's great." He stuffed a meatball into his mouth. "It seems like you're adjusting to living there. I hope that you were able to make friends with that girl from your class."
I scrunched up my forehead. "Girl? What girl?"
Matt gestured at me. "The one you worked on the project with."
"Ooooh, you mean that girl." It dawned on me that he never actually knew the identity of who I had collaborated with because I had never spoken of it to him.
In that moment, I had two choices to make. I could easily correct him; we might have had a small chuckle over the misunderstanding and then carry on as usual or I could make the decision to keep in the dark.
But for what purpose?
For the same reason as to why it bothers you so much that he isn't speaking to you and the very one that's preventing images of him from leaving your head.
You have feelings for him.
I had two paths that I could follow but I never was in favor of taking the easy one.
"Yup," I agreed. "That would be the girl."