Who Names The Colors

In the Car

Jo was used to Harry giving her space for a couple days when she ran on him. It was a bit sad that they already had habits about it. She couldn't decide what was worse, that she was always running after they got close physically, or that she had gotten close enough to need to run again. Yesterday had been worse, because the closeness was physical to be sure, but it was more than sexual and crossed into affection and flirted with intimacy. Jo felt like this was the time that she needed space desperately.

Her feelings were gonna drown her, she could feel them welling up and painting had not helped. Because she wanted to see him, to talk to him, to stay by him. And her spaces, where Jo worked through her feelings, were haunted by him now. Her studio carried his essence and her memories and the things she wanted to paint were forms of mourning or longing for him.

All of her concerns, those most certainly still existed and were the undertow that made all that water dangerous.

Jo was still Harry's advisor, though she had checked her rosters and luckily when school started in 4 days time, he would not be in any of her classes to sit front and center and make her skin feel to tight on her bones and her heart a helium balloon trying to escape her rib cage. That would be some kind of relief.

She was still 20 years older than him. That was not a fact that was going to change, though in some ways she was sure that he was light years ahead of her, certainly in his talent, and his heart. That boy was the most considerate person ever, asking her is she needed to get Zoe before their last round yesterday, though it would have left him with balls so blue they were fauvist. His singularity had her on her back, metaphorically. Was he just born that way?

Born that way when she was already bearing a son, she reminded herself.

Bearing a son, who was her main reason to not do this, to keep in mind that the biggest complication was a relationship more important than any she could make with Harry. No matter how many threads she and Harry tied together, Ethan was the going on of her and their bonds were blood and DNA. Blood was thicker than water no matter how liquid Harry made her feel. They could not get into this. It was to complicated and, she could not shake the feeling it was wrong, or crossed too many lines or was just to selfish. She had other people who depended on her and no matter how much Jo wanted to run away to or run into that golden valley Harry opened up inside her, she was not allowed to.

That's why him showing up on her doorstep threw her immediately onto her back foot. Her resolve was not strong enough against him, and he'd bulldozed through every other wall she had built up against him so far. The 16 hours since she could actually feel him rather than his phantom touches was not enough to do much more that throw up some paper mache and scrawl Ethan and Zoe and teacher and job all over them.

He was here though, so she was going to have to fake it until she made it she guessed. Maybe if she pretended that her fortifications against him were made of stacked stones and she only cared to look at him from the highest turret, he would leave her along in her paper castle and she could build it better for next time.

"Harry you can't keep just showing up here." Jo crossed her arms and stared him down. Or drank him in, she hoped her posture and put upon stare were believable.

"And you can't keep running from me," He emphasized. "And I've been just showing up at your house for 10 years now." Harry threw his hand like he was knocking away her excuses like flies.

"yeah Harry, when Ethan's home. people will talk." People would talk and they would be right

"Jo it's not out of the ordinary for me to be here. You're overthinking it. I can show up if you need me to and I needed to see what was wrong. I could just feel something was off with you, like a pit in my stomach." He placed his hand over the center of his butterfly and her eyes stuck there, like a stone in her tummy too.