Cold Water

ELEVEN

                     ♥︎ATHALIA♥︎

   I glanced over at Brandon as the soft acoustic music played, hoping it was helping him calm down.

   The tension in his shoulders had eased a bit since we started driving, but I could still sense a hint of nervousness.

   I didn't want to push him, so I let the music do most of the talking for now.

  I hummed along to the song, feeling the rhythm lift my mood as we cruised down the road.

  When I asked him about music and drawing, I was glad he opened up a little.

   It felt good to have a casual conversation with him, like we were starting to break down some of the walls he kept around himself.

  There was something about Brandon that intrigued me. He didn't just go along with what everyone else was doing; he stayed in his own world, and that world seemed complicated.

  His quietness wasn't off-putting-it made me want to understand him more, to figure out what was going on beneath the surface.

  I glanced at him again as we neared the art show. He had a distant look in his eyes, like he was still somewhere between here and wherever his thoughts were taking him.

  I smiled to myself, knowing he probably didn't even realize how much people could see when they looked closely enough.

   I broke the silence, wanting to keep things light. "You know, I'm really glad we're doing this together."

  Brandon blinked, surprised by my words, and I could see him process what I said.

  It wasn't like I had planned to say something so direct, but it felt right in the moment.

  "Yeah... me too," he replied, his voice softer than usual but sincere.

  Hearing that from him made me smile wider. I had been looking forward to today all week, ever since we talked about going together.

  There was just something different about doing things with someone who wasn't trying to be anyone other than themselves.

  I wanted to tell him how much I admired his art and how much I appreciated his quiet strength, but I didn't want to overwhelm him.

  There would be time for that. For now, I just wanted him to feel comfortable.

  "I think it's going to be fun," I said, hoping that my optimism would rub off on him.

  He gave me a small nod, and for the first time, I saw a glimpse of something like hope behind his dark eyes. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

  As we pulled into the parking lot of the art show, I parked the car and turned off the music.

  The hum of the engine faded, and we sat in comfortable silence for a second before I turned to him.

  "Ready?" I asked, my hand resting lightly on the steering wheel.

  He took a breath, then nodded. "Yeah. I'm ready."

  And with that, we stepped out of the car, side by side, ready to face whatever the day had in store for us.

  As we walked through the gallery, Brandon stayed close to my side, his eyes scanning the art on the walls.

  I could tell he was paying attention, even though he wasn't saying much.

  His dark brown eyes moved over each piece with quiet interest, his expression serious but thoughtful.

  I pointed out a few pieces that caught my eye, explaining why I liked them–the way the artist used light, the textures, and the emotions each painting seemed to carry.