Truth in Watercolors

“That’s crazy,” Kensie said, setting her margarita onto the coffee table and falling back onto the couch. I chose the floor. I distinctly remembered walking in on August and Kensie on that couch a few months back. Not cool. “Not crazy that you have a thing for art, but crazy that we’ve never known.”

“Yeah, I guess, well. I don’t talk about it much.” I shifted, bending my legs to the side.

“Or ever.” Le

“As much as I love it, I’m not the most confident about it,” I said recognizing this as my opportunity to tell them that I’m colorblind but talked right past it. I wasn’t ready to go there yet, either.

“Confident enough to drop out of school, though,” Le

I laughed. “I like to use the term hopeful.”

Kensie smiled. “When you realize how amazing your art is, just promise we will be the first to see it.” This was why she was perfect for my brother. She had a heart that was more compassionate than most at our age, just like him, because of all she went through with her dad. The scars on their hearts made them beautiful people. My heart was untouched. I wondered what that said about me.

The girls and I sat around sipping on drinks and pla

I had to admit that I was looking forward to a night out with Wes and our friends. I wondered if it would be awkward, with us dancing around how to act with our friends and family around. We’d spent so much time just the two of us wrapped up in our painting and in each other. This would be the first time the people in our lives saw what we’d been creating together besides art. It was scary to think about.

The text alert from my phone echoed from the kitchen. I hopped up from the ground. “Not Tommy’s. Downtown, Kensie,” I said taking Le

“Really? But Tommy’s is kind of our place.” She held her hands over her chest. I shook my head at her and went into the kitchen.

“It’s also tacky,” I shouted and heard Kensie’s gasp mixed with Le

“It is not,” she yelled back.

“For a bachelorette, yes, it’s completely tacky,” Le

“How about the Hard Rock?” I asked digging in my purse on the kitchen table for my phone. “They have that club downstairs, and they have that poolside one on the roof, too.” Ah-ha. Found it. “Oh,” I said louder than I’d intended, seeing Wes’ name lit up on the screen.

“Who is it?” Kensie asked.

“Wes,” I answered nonchalantly opening the message and walking back into the living room.

Wes: You’re mine.

My feet lost their movement, and my heart fell to the soles, anchoring me to the carpet.

“What does he want?” Le

Me: I am

Then I hit send and stared at my friends. Holy crap. Maybe I should have thought that through a little more.

“Oh yeah, I saw him the other night at Tommy’s.” Le

“You did?” He and I had been spending almost all of our time together lately so him going somewhere without me was news. I tapped on my phone.

Me: You’re mine too then.

Crap. I was a stage three clinger. When did that happen?

Wes: Yours, baby.

His message came through immediately, making my heart soar so high I swore it reached heaven.

“Yeah. He was alone.” She spoke the words firmly, nailing in their importance.

“Alone, alone?” Kensie piped up, recognizing the rarity. Wes was never spotted alone. Especially not at a place like Tommy’s where his co-ed groupies hovered.

“Yep, all alone. Sat at the bar for an hour or two nursing a beer and then left.” Le

“Alone,” I said again, but not questioning the oddity. Instead, the word etched into my chest.

“He didn’t even notice when the usual sweeties did their fly-bys.” Le

“But when he didn’t so much as blink their way,” Le

“Damn right, he was. Effing bitches better keep their fake nailed hands off of him,” I shouted into the tiny space. Kensie’s head snapped to me with eyes wide. Le

“I knew it.” She pointed at me. “You’re sleeping with him,” she accused.

“Am not,” I shot back stamping my foot.

“Yes, you are. You are so effing sleeping with him.” She air quoted my poor attempt at profanity.

“I am not,” I said crossing my arms over my chest in a huff because, really, I wasn’t, and it was crap.

“I think she’s telling us the truth, Len. She’s looking a little sorry for herself.” Kensie pat the spot next to her on the couch. I shook my head immediately. Brother’s penis was there. Not happening.

“Huh. That’s weird.” Le

“Why is that weird?” I asked pulling my arms in tighter around myself.

“Shut up, Le

“Well, because it’s Wes. He sleeps with everybody.”

My arms slipped from my grasp and thumped against my sides.

“I said shut up,” Kensie seethed across the room.

“Oh.” I scuffed over the spot next to Kensie on the couch and sat down.

“I’m not trying to be a bitch about it, but it’s true, yeah?” Le

“Yeah.” I sighed and leaned into Kensie, who wrapped her arm around me.

“Stop, you’re freaking her out,” she growled.

“I don’t mean to freak you out, Capri. Just pointing out the obvious. So are you like, his girlfriend?”

I looked down at the phone still clutched in my fingers.

“I think so?” About five minutes ago, I thought so. Now, I wasn’t so sure. What Le

“I doubt Wes even knows how to have a girlfriend.” Kensie squeezed my shoulder in her hand.

“Not likely,” I said feeling all hope fall to the floor.

“So this could be different for him. You could be the one who is different,” she assured me.

“I don’t know,” I said unconvinced.

“What about you?” Kensie let go of me and sat up. “You’ve had a lot of relationships, if we can even call them that.” She winced. “Is this thing with Wes different from the other guys you’ve dated?”

Her words stung, but I understood where she was coming from. I’d become a serial monogamist, dating guy after guy, one after the other. I’d been in such a dating routine I think I’d stopped considering if these were quality guys I even really cared about. The end goal had become to keep myself distracted from the one I really wanted. “What I have with Wes is something so new; I don’t think I’ve ever felt it before.”