Sophie Jordan - Tease

“Cappuccino.”

The girls in front of me shot me a not-so-nice look, clearly not appreciating my drink order coming before theirs.

The cashier shot them an apologetic look and started to punch the keys until Jeff stalled her with a hand on her arm. “I got this,” he murmured while sending me a wink.

The cashier shook her head and turned to the two sorority girls. “What can I get for you?”

With a last withering glare for me, they stepped up and ordered.

I smiled weakly at Jeff. “You didn’t have to do that.” Really, I wished that he hadn’t.

“I wanted to.” He shrugged. “Small perk of the job. Buying a drink for a cute girl.”

“Thanks,” I said, because at this point it would cause more of a scene to resist.

“So how’ve you been? You have a good holiday?” he asked as he began frothing milk for my drink.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Awesome. Went skiing. My uncle just bought a place in Vermont. Only a few hours from here. Lets me use it anytime. You ski? You should come with me one weekend before the snow melts. There’s a hot tub.” He lifted his eyebrows suggestively and I knew just what he was imagining we could do in that hot tub.

“Um. Maybe.”

“Cool. You still got my number?”

Had I ever had it? I nodded.

“Well, don’t be afraid to use it.” He sealed the lid on my cup, and leaned across the counter toward me, bracing his hands on the marble. “You didn’t call me back when I called you last time.”

I accepted the cup, fidgeting with the edge of the cardboard sleeve uncomfortably, unsure how to respond. Most guys were happy with a fling. Sometimes they called, but they never cornered me about it like this when I didn’t call them back.

He winked and held up both hands. “Hey, it’s cool. I’ll call you later.”

I smiled and nodded like that would be good. “Thanks for the drink.”

Turning, I walked across the wood floor, sipping from my steaming cup. I’d meant to order a muffin, too, but no way was I turning around for another dose of awkward.

Stepping outside, I tugged my soft scarf high against my chin and turned in the direction of the art building.

“Em!”

Looking up, I watched as Georgia trotted across the street, tugging Harris after her.

“Hey,” I greeted her.

“Hi,” she replied in her sultry Alabama accent, cheeks flushed from the cold. “What’s up? Where you headed?”

“I’m going to work in the studio.”

She nodded. “What’d you end up doing last night?”

I hesitated. Now would be the moment to tell her that Annie ditched me, but then that would lead to the topic of how I got home . . . and where I spent the night.

I settled for: “Went out with Annie.”

Georgia pulled a face, revealing just how little she thought of Annie.

“Bet ya’ll had fun.” Harris looked me up and down, his lip curling ever so slightly, and I wanted to kick him. I knew he thought I was a slut. Annie, too. I could read his dirty thoughts as he considered me. He was probably picturing Annie and me taking on half the football team or something. Judgy little bastard. I didn’t get why Georgia didn’t see it. I guess she was blinded by the fact that they’d been together since her sophomore year of high school. I knew his type though. He was happy to keep his pretty girlfriend, but he was always looking at other girls . . . leering at me. I had no evidence of him cheating, but I’d be surprised if he didn’t enjoy the offerings to be had at one of his fraternity parties when Georgia wasn’t around.

Georgia buried her hands in her front coat pockets and rocked on her heels. “Well, what are you doing tonight?”

I shrugged. “No plans yet.”

“Pepper mentioned a party.”

“We have that dinner party, Georgia, remember?” Harris reminded her.

She angled her head, frowning. “No.”

“At the home of my dad’s friend. The president of First National Bank, remember? I’m hoping to intern there.”

“Oh.” Her shoulders slumped in disappointment. One look at her face and I knew she wasn’t interested in going.

“I can go alone, but I told you about it a month ago, Georgia.” He paused, letting that sink in. “They’re expecting me to bring a date.”

She nodded. “No, of course. I’ll go. I said I would.”

I took a long sip of my cappuccino, further committed to the idea of staying single as I observed their little byplay. I wondered how much longer Georgia could tolerate him, and then reminded myself it had already been four years. Some habits were hard to break—including, it seemed, a sucky relationship.

Georgia looked back at me. “Well, sorry, but maybe you can go to that party with Pepper and Reece.”

I shrugged. “Yeah. Maybe.” It could be fun. Pepper and Reece didn’t do too many parties. Most of their time consisted of staring into each other’s eyes and other activities that I wasn’t privy to—rightfully so.

“C’mon, Georgia. It’s cold. I’m going in.” Harris let go of her hand and entered the Java Hut. I watched Georgia as she stared after him. She looked troubled. The smooth skin of her forehead creased.

“You two okay?” I murmured.

She snapped her attention back to me. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

About what? That her boyfriend was an asshat? I shrugged like it was no big deal. It wasn’t my place to tell her who she should and shouldn’t date. I’d tried that once with my own mother and it didn’t go over too well.

“Harris is just stressed. He’s got a big test coming up. And he’s looking for an internship for the summer.”

I nodded like I understood.

“Want to go to breakfast tomorrow? It’s been a while. We’ll get Pepper to join us, too.”

It had been a while since the three of us had one of our breakfasts. I missed those mornings. Maybe I’d even tell them about Mom pressuring me to attend Justin’s wedding.

But then you’d have to tell them about Justin. I mentally shuddered at that idea. I didn’t want to think about my prick of a stepbrother much less talk about him. Some things were better buried in the past.

“Yeah. That would be great.”

She gave me a quick hug and disappeared inside the Hut. I set a brisk pace across campus, eager to get to the studio and lose myself on the canvas . . . the only place where it felt safe to let emotion run free. Where I could let myself lose control.

I LOST TRACK OF time as I worked. A few other students worked in the studio, intent over their projects, but silence was an unspoken rule in this place. It was a large room. Larger than any classroom save for maybe the few stadium-style ones on campus. Floor to ceiling windows allowed natural light to pour in. Every once in a while I would glance up and gaze out at the lawn of flawless white, tapping the end of my brush idly against my chin as I soaked up the serene sight, letting it feed my soul.

The studio was my church. A holy sanctum. Wild Emerson who guys only saw as a toy to play with for as long as I would allow it didn’t exist here. The wrecked fifteen-year-old who went to her mother expecting help and support? She didn’t exist either.

It was just me here. Where I could be real. It was freedom. Peace. On the canvas there was no threat, no risk in letting myself go.

I dipped my brush in various colors, mixing and blending until achieving just the right shade of blue. I worked the colors on my canvas, not even thinking, just going with it. Flowing. Being.

It was always like this. I never deliberated. I just did. Whenever I sat back to observe the end result, it was almost like I was seeing it for the first time.

My phone hummed on my workstation, beside me. Blinking, I looked up and noticed long shadows creeping in from outside. Looking down, I read the text:

Pepper: Where r u?

Setting down my brush, I wiped my hands on a well-used towel and picked up the phone to type back.

Me: Studio.

Pepper: Wanna go out? Party tonight.

For a moment, I hesitated and actually contemplated saying no. But then I’d be stuck in my room all night, alone. Even though I could study for my upcoming art history exam, I didn’t relish that.

Me: Sure. On way to room.

Standing up, I gathered my brushes and palette. I walked to the sinks in the back of the room and rinsed everything off. Once my supplies were clean, I took them back to my station. Untying my smock, I lifted my gaze to my canvas and froze.

I had been vaguely aware that I was creating something inspired from the winter wonderland currently going on outside, but this was totally unexpected.

The scene was plucked straight from this morning. A pair of glass-paneled doors that looked out at a snow-covered world and cerulean blue sky. Just the hint of a bed with rumpled blue sheets.

Clean lines. Bright colors. Very modern in theory. My heart was in this, which only made me wonder why I would have painted this scene. What was I telling myself?

The only thing more shocking would have been a portrait of Shaw himself. Clearly he was still on my brain. Standing back and observing the canvas, I shook my head. Maybe I’d prime over it. Start over. Use the canvas for something else.

I glanced down at my phone. It was almost six. My stomach twisted and growled. I pressed a hand against my belly, certain it was devouring itself. A painful reminder that I hadn’t eaten all day. Slipping on my coat and wrapping a scarf around my neck, I nodded at Gretchen a few stations down working on an elaborate collage. She worked with a lot of textiles. She paused amid ripping up what looked like old curtains to wave good-bye to me.