Tackling the Canvas

Chapter 7

Nora

Heading out of the library, I made a beeline for the parking lot, feeling the cool breeze against my face as I passed through the exit gate. I waved to the security guy out of habit, then continued on my way, feet crunching lightly on the pavement.

At the bus stop, I stood for a moment, watching as the buses rolled in and out, their engines humming quietly in the background. Finally, mine arrived, and I stepped on board, scanning for an open seat. I found one toward the back, slid into it, and pulled out my earphones. With a quick tap on my phone, I queued up a playlist, letting the music fill the silence as I leaned my head back and watched the city pass by through the window.

When I arrived at my stop, I stepped off the bus and headed out into the evening air. Glancing both ways, I crossed the road and turned left, walking straight down the familiar path. As I moved along, I noticed a young boy standing by a small stand, selling lilies. His soft voice caught my attention as I neared.

"Would you like one, miss?" he asked shyly, his eyes bright with hope. The warmth in my chest grew, and I smiled softly at him.

"Give me four, please," I replied, pulling out my wallet. His face lit up, and he quickly hurried over to his mother, who handed him four more lilies. He brought them over to me, the flowers bright and fresh in his small hands.

"Here you go, miss. That'll be $5.00, please," he said with a wide grin. I nodded, handing him the five-dollar bill, feeling a surge of warmth from the exchange as I continued on my way with the flowers in hand.

I kept walking straight until I finally arrived at my destination. The words "Ottawa Main Cemetery" greeted me, the weathered letters carved into the stone catching my attention for just a moment before I stepped inside. The atmosphere felt heavy, yet serene, as I made my way through the rows of headstones, each one telling its own story.

After walking a few miles, I stopped before a small headstone that stood out among the others. Kneeling down, I placed the lilies gently in front of it. The stone read, "Julia Anderson, 2002-2003." As I read her name, a wave of emotion washed over me, and a small tear fell down my cheek.

"Hi there, sweetie," I whispered, my voice barely audible as I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Remember the guy I told you about? I think I like him a lot..." My lips curved into a small, bittersweet smile. "I actually started dating him, though... I think we went a little overboard the other day," I chuckled softly, the sound hollow against the stillness around me.

The chuckle quickly faded, replaced by the weight of everything left unsaid. A sob escaped my lips, catching me off guard. "I'm so sorry..." I choked out, my voice cracking. "I'm sorry you couldn't live longer."

With a deep, shaky breath, I stood up, giving one last look at the small headstone. The weight in my chest felt heavier than ever, but I knew it was time to go. "Goodbye, Julia," I whispered, turning to leave, the sound of my footsteps fading as I walked away.

___

Two days later is finally the day Oscar comes to visit. I put on some light blue hip jeans, a dressing white shirt and a wine jumper on top. I pulled up my hair in a messy bun and took my phone.

As I stepped outside, the fresh air was a welcome relief, but I barely had a moment to appreciate it before I collided with what felt like a wall. Startled, I looked up to see a very tall guy—muscular, with a tattoo snaking down his left arm. His dark brown hair contrasted sharply with his striking gray eyes, which held a mixture of curiosity and annoyance. His hands were firmly on my hips, steadying me as I regained my balance.

"Sorry," I managed to murmur, my voice barely above a whisper.

"No worries," he replied, his tone cold yet indifferent, as if it was just a routine exchange for him.

Before I could gather my thoughts, an angry squeal pierced the air. "Jackson!" A redhead came barreling toward us, her expression a mix of fury and annoyence. So, Jackson was his name. I felt a strange curiosity bubble up inside me as I observed him—he seemed unfazed, his eyes rolling in exasperation as he turned to face her.

I couldn't quite catch what they were arguing about, but it was clear that it was heated. Not wanting to intrude, I decided to slip past them, my curiosity piqued yet unwilling to get involved in whatever drama was unfolding. I continued walking, my thoughts swirling with questions about this Jackson and the fiery redhead he seemed to know all too well.

I walked up to my first class, my heart racing with impatience. I was bubbling with excitement to finally meet Oscar after so long apart, especially since his job as an F1 engineer kept him incredibly busy. The thrill of seeing him again was enough to make me forget about the usual pre-class jitters.

After four long classes, I finally had the chance to pick him up at the airport. It felt like a relief that his arrival time was perfectly aligned with my class schedule. As I made my way outside, I heard my name being called by a voice I recognized all too well.

"Yes, Owen?" I replied, glancing up to meet his gaze.

"Where are you going?" he asked, curiosity evident in his tone.

"Oh, I'm just heading to pick up my friend from the airport," I smiled, trying to keep it casual. He returned my smile, but there was something else in his eyes—a flicker of concern.

"You want a ride?" he asked, his gaze dropping to my lips as he licked his bottom lip slowly.

"No, it's alright. I'll take the bus," I replied, hoping to keep it simple.

His expression shifted immediately to one of concern. "With all that snow? A lot of people will be taking the bus."

I turned to look toward the exit, and my heart sank. I hadn't even noticed that it had started snowing, and the flurries were coming down thick. "Well—sure, fine. You can give me a ride," I conceded, and his grin widened, lighting up his face.

"Let's go then," he said, slipping his arm around my waist as we headed toward the parking lot together. His warmth radiated against the chill in the air, making me feel both safe and exhilarated as we walked.

___

Oh, shit. Owen was about to meet my friend, and I realized he had no idea that Oscar was a guy. I felt a knot of anxiety tighten in my stomach. Not that it mattered; I liked Owen, not Oscar. Oscar was like a brother to me—always supportive, always there—but the thought of Owen misinterpreting the situation made me nervous.

Would he be okay with it? I could picture the gears turning in Owen's mind, and I hoped he wouldn't read too much into it. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing thoughts. I needed to reassure him that my feelings for Oscar were purely platonic and that he had nothing to worry about.