"Kay!" I shouted, slamming the apartment door behind me. "I'm back from the grocery store! You promised if I got the stuff on your list, you'd make me food, so get your ass in here, I'm hungry!"
"Damn, Al, you sound like I'm making gourmet food. Shit, I'm just making mac and cheese. Calm down."
"Kayla." I leaned over the counter, propping my chin in my hands and sighing. "I'm. Fucking. Hungry."
"Pfft whatever, fat ass."
"Hey!" I pointed a finger at her. "You're just jealous of my ass."
"Okay, Al." Kayla laughed, grabbing a pot from a cabinet and turning on the stove.
I smiled and walked into the living room, looking outside the window. From our apartment, you could see the Golden Gate Bridge. It was nighttime and the bridge was lit up. I sighed and leaned against the windowsill. The bridge at night never ceased to amaze me. I'd painted it countless times, but it never quite came out right. For a moment I considered trying again, but quickly dismissed the thought.
"So," Kayla called from the kitchen. "I met those boys you were telling me about the other day."
"Really?" I tore my gaze away from the window. It's been four days since I'd met Michael and his friends and I hadn't seen them since. I'd been busy taking Kayla sightseeing and making runs to the Institute for more art supplies. I was also helping Kay with one of her design projects. She showed me a sketch of a room she designed and I was making a bigger version of it on a canvas for her to present at a job interview when she got back to Santa Barbara.
"Yup they were moving some boxes in while you were out."
"Oh." I was a little disappointed I missed out on seeing the boys. It was nice having new people move in. Especially when they were easy on the eyes like they were.
"I told them I was staying you for the rest of the week. The purplish haired one, Michael I think?" She looked over the counter at me from her spot at the stove and I nodded. "Yeah, called you Lana. He said he saw you yesterday out by the Institute with a bunch of art supplies and he thought it was really cool when I told him you go to school there and that you're an artist."
I could feel my cheeks heat up, whether it was from embarrassment or the fact Michael thought what I did was cool and he still called me Lana, I don't know. "Well, I'm not so sure I would call myself an artist. I haven't been able to do anything really good lately, especially with the damn exhibition coming up."
"Aw Al, you're being too hard on yourself! I've seen the stuff you've done, I don't know what the hell you're talking about, 'haven't been able to do anything good lately' my ass! Alana, really, if you wanna hear an honest opinion, you've got it. Any one of the pieces you do could easily kick ass in that exhibition from what I've seen of stuff that was already on display when you took me there two days ago."
"Eh, thanks Kay."
"Yeah, sure. No problem." Kayla turned back to her cooking and I turned back to looking out the window. We fell into a comfortable silence for a couple minutes. Kay was the one to break it, "So, Lana, huh?"
"What?" I said watching a car stop below to let a group of people pass.
"Your neighbor, Michael. He calls you Lana."
"Oh, yeah..." I let out a small laugh, thinking of how he called me that while asking me to help them move a couch up a couple flight of stairs. "He does."
"I haven't heard that one before."
"Everyone calls me Al, that's why."
"I know," Kayla chuckled. "I think I can take responsibility for that."
