Present. December 14th, 2018.
When you're a kid, everything seems so black and white. Plain and simple, no questions asked. It's when you grow up that you become confused about every little thing, insecurities arise and the people you loved become strangers. The stuff you loved become competitions. The things you thought you wanted to change and become unbearable.
The truth is, growing up sucks, and if I could stay as an immature, oblivious child, I would.
I'm currently staring blankly at my phone, the phone that is presently shinning an art contest to my face, offering a place at Clark's gallery. Not just the piece you enter, but a whole damn collection. Ten pieces to be exact.
I put my phone down with a huff. "I'm not good enough," I said while tying on my work apron. I was in the kitchen, getting ready for my shift while listening to Carson nagging at me to enter. He texted it to me in the first place.
"Shut the hell up. You're so talented, Lena. Don't try to tell me you aren't." He retorted, a slightly angry look on his face.
"Carson, Clark's gallery has beautiful, expensive, glorious work. I could never compare. Besides, all their artists are much older and much more talented." I tried to walk him through all the reasons I shouldn't even be considered, but he wasn't hearing me because he just rolled his eyes.
"You have more talent in your 17 years of life than any old ass artist in that gallery, and yes, I've been there." He held his hand to my face when I opened my mouth to argue. "I splashed a red line on your canvas, and you turned it into raw and beautiful artwork, and you're trying to tell me you don't have talent? Nice try."
I just crossed my arms over my body and shook my head, grabbing my notepad shortly after. I'm not typically self-conscious about my work, but there hasn't been an art contest in Freeport since I was nine, and I lost.
"He's right," a voice pitches in from the window connecting the cashier counter to the kitchen. "you don't have to listen to me, but your artwork is incredible." Violet finishes.
I give her my most convincing smile while tying my hair up into a top-not, huffing a breath of air to push a loose strand out of my face. "Thank you, guys." I turn to Carson. "I'll think about it, okay? I don't even know if I'll have enough time to make a new piece."
"You have till late January. I think the twenty-ninth, but the winners aren't announced until even later." He shrugs, and I squint.
"And how do you know so much about this?"
"I wanted to look into it and make sure it was legit before showing it to you. I wanted to make sure I could give you all the details." It was a simple gesture, but it still made my lips lift, and my shoulders lose a bit of weight.
I sigh. "Well thank you," I pause, taking in Carson's features, observing. "It means a lot."
"No problem, Bright Eyes." He gives me a swift kiss on the cheek and shoves me to work, laughing softly. I groan in return.
Ever since we kissed, he'd been such a gentleman. Although his ego rose a bit, Carson was who he always was. Kind, considerate, but most of all, cautious. He didn't bring it up, I knew he wanted to talk about it, but I didn't know what to say. He always made sure that I was okay. Even after the kiss, he had tried to apologize on the drive home, but I shook my head reminding him that I didn't look at it as a mistake.
Eventually, we will talk about it. I'm not sure what to make of it just yet. The worst part is thinking that maybe Carson regrets it, perhaps he sees it as a mistake. I try to have hope that he is just as confused as I am and that the farthest word from his mind is regret.
My shift is mind-numbing. I practically scribbled down orders, causing me to get cussed at by the cook. Light-hearted as usual, though. Lucky for me, Violet had been an enjoyable presence. I'm not sure what to make of her yet either.
Damn, there is a lot I'm confused about lately.
"I can take your last table. You look exhausted, why don't you head home?" Violet says.
I shake my head. "I can't ask you to do that. You still have a few of your own."
"Yet I got nine hours of sleep, and you?" She retorts, raising her brows.
I shrugged. "Good point. Are you sure?"
"Positive. Get some sleep." She pats my back and takes my notepad, tossing it to a waiting Carson in the kitchen. I laugh it off while watching him pretend to read dramatic things.
Then, as he does, Carson begged to drive me home. But I told him if he wanted me to think about anything he is going to have to let me walk home. Although lately, I loved being around him.
That's one thing that wasn't confusing me. I enjoyed being around Carson. I think anyone who meets Carson will want to be around him always.
As expected, sleep wasn't exactly in the cards for me — too much thinking.
If I thought about it, he would be the person I'd want to experience things with. Hell, I probably wouldn't have heard about the contest until it was too late if it weren't for him. I want to join, and I want to create artwork that moves people. Artwork that people stop in galleries and feel something. Something real.
I guess the fear is in knowing I may not be good enough. Knowing that there isn't much hope for me to think positively. Knowing that there are probably much more experienced people that are much more capable of winning. But then there's the side of me that has hope. The side of me that wants nothing more than to be able to say I was put in the gallery at 17. I want to do well. I want to be great. It's all I've wanted for a while.
If I think about it, most of the artwork shown in Clark's gallery is relatively modern. Full of color and abstract ideas, yet some of it is simple. I want to make something that makes them shocked. Something that fits the blend of the gallery yet shocks them just the same.
I stare at the ceiling for another hour, just thinking. A text alarms me, and I sigh, turning the brightness down on my phone and checking the text.
Carson
I know it's late, but please tell me you're thinking about it....?
Lena
I'm going to do it, but I need focus which means you can't be annoying me every five seconds. Think you'll be able to do it?
Carson
I think I can try!!!! :)
Lena
Goodnight, Carson.
Carson
Goodnight, beautiful!!
Before I know it, a bright smile fills my face. The damn exclamation points again. Not long after I drift off, attempting to let my brain shut off.
And not even five minutes later my eyes shoot open. I never informed Penelope about Carson, and I's new found... connection?
I look at my clock to see a shiny 1:47 AM but choose to call her anyway. She's practically nocturnal. She's awake. I dial her number and fall back in my bed, relaxing.
"Hellooo my fellow vampire friend. How're you?" I hear her very hyper voice through the phone followed by loud music.
I laugh. "Where the hell are you at one in the morning?"
"Cole and his band are scream-singing. I'm upstairs to talk to the one person in this life that understands me! So to what do I owe this emergency call?"
"Carson and I kissed a couple of days ago." I blurt, very very fast.
She practically destroys my phone speaker by the squeal she lets out. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Yay! I'm so proud of you my beautiful lip virgin!"
"What? I'm not a lip virgin." I argue, confusion evident in my voice.
"You're a meaningful kiss lip virgin." She explains.
"That's not a thing, P."
"Could be!"
"Nope," I say just as she says, "Yup!" Knowing my response before I say it.
"One more thing," I announce. "I'm joining a contest for Clark's gallery." I should've pulled the phone away because I was greeted with another squeal.
"No way!! NO. WAY. You're changing my beautiful best friend. You're becoming an extrovert!"
"I wouldn't go that far," I say between laughs.
"I would. Alright, babe, I am very grateful for the life update, but I've gotta kiss my boy goodbye and get home before gorilla mommy kills me. Love you so much!"
"Love you too, be safe," I say meekly. Once we hang up, all the worries I seemed to have before disappear and I fall into sleep, one of the best I've had.