Winning Back Mr. Right

Chapter 17

So this is how it feels waking up on the right side of the bed. After a few days, I'm finally back to my old happy self. Painting really helped me in calming my nerves. Each stroke clouded my mind with fascinating images that kept me distant from too much boy-stress. I choose to believe that every day is another chance to change your life. There are a billion people in this world and I think I'm not the first one to meet a person I can't help but admire.

The sun is shining bright above my head but the cold wind suppresses the heat. It is a super nice day to take a walk that's why I let myself indulge in the beautiful streets of L.A. Cadie-cakes is waiting for me in our favorite local coffee shop. When I arrive, I find her ordering in the counter so I scan the room where she might have placed her things to save us both a seat.

I guess that's how best friends really are. Her favorite bag is sitting in one of the corner tables waiting for me. I pull the chair and await her return.

"Meyn!" She exclaims, while placing the iced coffee (that's mine) and her latte in the table.

"What's up? You look nice."

I feel nice. There comes a time when you just have to stop beating yourself up.

"I haven't seen you for like FOREVER! What have you been up to?" Then she notices my dirty nails and the paint in my right forearm. "No way! You paint again?"

I look at my hands and just shrug. "A little." I answer shyly.

"That is great!" She stands from her side of the table and goes up to hug me. "That is really amazing. You shouldn't have stopped painting in the first place."

I bite my lips from feeling a bit awkward. "I had a...I guess I had a little help."

Cadie's face shrinks as she sits back to her chair. Her eyebrows meet and she pouts either from disappointment or curiosity. "Help? From whom?" Then she takes her cup and positions herself to interrogate me. I roll my eyes and chuckle a little.

"From a friend." Now she leans back to her chair and takes a sip of her latte, contemplating.

"A friend? And is your friend's name KEVIN?" She lifts one of her eyebrows with a smug on her face. I close my eyes and swallow the lump building in my throat.

"He sent a few materials a week ago and then one night, I started mixing colors. The cliff is the first thing that hit me. The one we went to last time. And, it felt really good." My best friend is sceptical about my explanation but I'm telling her the truth so it's me versus her wild thoughts.

"If he was able to give you that small push, then who am I to get mad? I mean, you've had a lot and you needed to remember something that your heart desires. Kevin has my thanks on that." She tilts her head and I figure she has a follow-up question on that statement. I'm so right. "Do you like him?" That is not the question I was expecting.

"What? He's just an old friend." I argue. "Remember I thought I knew him from somewhere?" She waits for my explanation this time. "Turns out, he's the kid who owns the bike." Cadie knows the story behind the bike.

"So he's Binnie!" I smile at her. "Yeah. He's the one."

"You didn't answer my question though." She takes another sip of her latte and I left her hanging by looking out the window.

Cadie drops the speculation and just laugh at me while sharing stories from the past. Meanwhile, the oil from my fries drips on to her favorite bag. "Oh, shit." I curse, pulling the plate of fries away. When I turn to look at my best friend, her eyes become teary. I can't help but feel very guilty for being clumsy and stupid. I just ruined the one thing that her mom left her. Her most valuable possession in the world. "Cadie-cakes, I'm so so so sorry." She gulps the rest of her latte and sits in complete silence. I hold her hand and continue apologizing. Neither of us could open a topic anymore. By the time I finish trying my hardest to get rid of the stain, I finally decided to exchange bags so she can use mine and I can clean hers at home.

I search the internet on how to remove oil stains. It kind of wash out a bit with shampoo and cotton swabs but there is still a visible mark on the skin of her bag. I'm praying for any sign on how to save her purse, nearly reaching the point of crying until a brilliant idea just pops up in my head. I dial her number just to give her a heads up on my plan.

"Cadie-cakes?" The fear of being shut out by my own friend creeps on me. "I figured out a way to make the stain disappear completely. I promise I'll give it back to you – flawless. I just need you to trust me on this."

It was only after a few inhales and exhales that I receive a response from her. She must be crying or trying not to. "I trust you." Then I hang up the phone and run to my study table.

If I can't remove it, then I will hide it. Some of Cadie's stuff is still in here and I should be able to find something, anything to help me start my plan. It's probably the worst idea I have come up with but it's going to work. I need to make it work – for Cadie.

This is a do-or-die moment for me to keep my friend. I grab my brush and start painting her bag.