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Noah
We were walking along the shoreline. Grace didn't look at me and instead she reverted her eyes to the golden sands. She also decided that she wanted to stay as far away from me as possible while we continued walking.
I moved closer to her and then she'd move a few feet away, I tried to move closer to her again and she would move away. We repeated the move closer dance a few more times before the annoyance creeped up on me.
"Can you just come closer to me so that I can talk to you?" I sighed dramatically.
"Why are you complaining? We're not at ten foot away yet." She fired back at me.
I instead stopped walking, stopping dead in my tracks.
She wasn't paying attention and realized that I stopped when she was a few steps away; she sighed and walked back to me stopping in front of me. At that moment I realized how short she was. Honestly, I couldn't believe that I took so much flak from someone who fits underneath my chin.
"Speak up hippy artist." She crossed her arms over her chest looking up at me with a placid smile. My eyes quickly darted from her heaved up chest back to her deep blue eyes.
"You think my life is so great right? Well, it's not. I have a fucked up side, you were quite correct and unfortunately, you only saw that side of me. I am fucked up and judging on that bruise on your arm I'm an adverse asshole too-" The pit in my stomach started whirling. She absentmindedly let her eyes roam to the bruise on her arm that was starting to heal but still had the outline of my fingers.
"I'm so sorry about that. Believe me, I'm not a nice man. I'm not ever going to be one, but I care if something is wrong so just...sorry." She looked as if she saw a ghost. Was it so bizarre that I apologized? I guess it must be. I don’t remember the last time that I apologized to anyone.
"You don't just apologize, and everything is fine again." She commented quietly.
"I know." She studied me for a moment, eyeing me up and down as if she's trying to figure something out.
"I'm also very sorry about your painting. It wasn’t my intention to destroy it. You're a strange man Noah Miller, very strange.” She stated and turned around walking back to the car. I followed behind. This wasn't why I brought her to the beach, I felt like I needed to tell her why I yelled at her and what the painting was about-my hatred was not intended for her initially. I wanted to tell her especially that my hatred projected towards her was meant for someone else. That someone I proposed to here.
But sorry was a start.
The car trip back was mostly silent, that was until Grace got a call. She looked worried she saw the number and reluctantly pressed ignore.
Her phone rang again.
"You can answer it I don't mind." She answered and in hushed tones had a stern conversation.
I usually don't eavesdrop, but I couldn't help overhearing a few sentences.
"I'm out with a friend. No, I don't think so. Are you already leaving? When I'm done with finals I'm moving back, I’ll come visit soon."
I didn't listen to the rest since we were nearing the gallery. She hurriedly said goodbye.
She bolted out of the car when I parked and headed down the street through the narrow alley. That’s it then.
She's not going to work for me, so, unfortunately, I wouldn't see her again. At first, I wanted her to stick around while I continued painting but that was unfair to her. Her debt was paid, I couldn’t keep her around. My muse was short lived. I didn't feel like going home so I went up to the studio. The semi done painting still sat against the wall leering at me to finish it. I picked it up and set it on the easel again. I didn't know what direction this painting was taking, its kind of just moulded itself. It formed a face, but I am not quite sure why or who it was.
I continued painting through the night.
I had to finish it one way or another.
I was working on the details of the eyes when the sun started shining through the vast windows. Somewhere during my painting craze, I remembered why I started painting this besides Grace destroying my masterwork. It was a part of a dream I had the night before the exhibition but unfortunately, the only thing I remember were these striking blue eyes- the rest filled itself in.
I heard the front door open and Ophelia’s heels clicking up the stairs.
"Why are you here so early?" She stopped in her stride peering at me questioningly.
"I had a few things to finish up here." I placed the brushes in the jar and took a step back to look at the painting. It was finally done.
She stood beside me also looking at the canvas.
"It's...magnificent. Who is she? That’s not Amanda," Everyone knew all too well about my public engagement and breakup as well as that it wasn't close to being half civil. I thought it was love but the truth is there isn't such a thing as love.
It's a capitalized lie.
"That...it looks like Grace."
"Who?" Her frown deepened.
"Never mind. Move this please, it's going to have to dry for at least a few weeks," She nodded. I grabbed my jacket and helmet to head home.
The next few weeks flew by. I had fully booked art classes and somewhere along the line a few nights out with some new ladies. I tended to attract new eye candy on my nights out.
I sat at my seat, looking over my students. People always pinned me as some pompous ass because of the media. Yes, I yell at them and for the past few months, I've been a jerk to everyone around me, even my own brother.
That wasn't my fault though having a broken heart is not something you smile about.
I walked around the tables, looking at each sketch, trying to give them some pointers. Even though I'm known for painting in an oil medium or acrylic, I loved a simple pencil sketch. I absentmindedly walked downstairs to the gallery to grab some other pencils from the cabinet when I saw Grace. She was standing at the painting I hung up a few days ago, the painting of her.
It didn't completely dry and wasn't up for sale, but I wanted to put it up. It’s been attracting various enquiries, but I couldn’t let it go. I walked to her and stopped beside her; a sense of déjà vu hit me. The night she fell into my painting started like this.
"You finished." She stated not looking at me.
"I figured that I'd need to sometime." A smile spread on her face and she turned to me.
"I thought that it took guts to say sorry, so you weren't all asshole after all..." She trailed off and darted her eyes to the floor.
"There must be a better reason why you're here; you're not here just to admire my guts." She let out a scattered breath.
"Harper explained what happened to me and now I see why you did what you did. It's been a while, but I realized I was also relatively asshole...ish." Well, a lot, but let me not derail her.
"So you don't hate me anymore?" She shrugged.
"I don't have the time to hate you and I want to make peace before I move back.” Move back?
"In that case, have dinner with me tonight so we can make peace. I'll pick you up at seven?" She frowned. I could see her spiralling into various questions, but she didn’t say anything.
"Okay." She headed out the door and down the street. I watched her walk away for a second and headed back upstairs. I didn't know why I asked her out but I guess I'll see why tonight.
For the past couple of weeks, that's how my life has gone. I didn't know why I do things the way I did. All I knew was that it felt right. I didn't hate her anymore; thankfully the thing with hate is that over time it doesn't make sense anymore.