A Girl Named Blush (SAMPLE)

nine

~ Blaire ~

This hell on earth – I mean club meeting – was nearly over. My contest entry was still on display at the front of the room for everyone to see, but at least no one was staring at me anymore.

I glanced at Luca. His dark brown eyes were still locked on that damn painting. His lower jaw hung open like he'd never seen watercolor art in his life. I looked down and pretended to be interested in my phone.

What is it with this guy?

Just when Ellie started to wrap up and I thought this nightmare was coming to an end, she announced, "Now I'm going to pass out some miniature canvases and we can do a little painting."

While Ellie and her VP passed out the materials, I started to pack up.

"Look, I have to go."

Luca shook his head. "But I want us to stay and paint."

I hesitated. Why did I hesitate! Why couldn't I tell Luca that I used to paint, but I don't anymore?

Well, I took too long to make up my mind. Ellie showed up at our table with the supplies.

"Blaire! I'm so glad you decided to show up. You're going to paint with us, right?"

Like Luca, she smiled at me expectantly. I couldn't just walk out on both of them.

I forced my mouth into a passable grin. When Ellie walked off, I grabbed the thickest paint brush and dunked it in the water.

Luca perked up. "So, you're staying?"

"Just until you're done painting. Here, your brushes are ready. Pick your colors and squeeze them onto this plate."

Luca didn't touch the brushes. "I was actually hoping that you could show me how it's done."

I laughed a little too loudly. "I'm sorry, but that's going to be a no for me."

He clasped his hands together. "Please. You're clearly a genius."

My brain logically registered his words as compliments, but my heart perceived them as knife wounds.

"It's not happening."

He scooted closer to me and took my hands in his.

Uh, excuse me. Who gave you permission to –

"Come on, Blush. Please?"

I snatched my hand away. "Don't . . . call me that."

The arch in Luca's brow was downright naughty.

"Don't call you what? Blush?"

I hushed him. "Yes! Keep your voice down!"

He picked up the canvas and waved it around. "Then will you paint me something?"

I face-palmed and groaned at the same time. "If I do, you have to promise never to call me that again. I'm serious."

He put his other hand over his heart. "I promise." For some reason, he sounded genuine. But promise or not, what I was about to do was stupid. I hadn't painted in years. Not since the incident in seventh grade.

I asked Luca what he wanted me to paint. He shrugged. "Anything. What you had for breakfast."

This was getting ridiculous. Selecting the paints and mixing them happened in a blur. Before I knew it, I was haphazardly casting strokes across the little canvas. Luca was watching me like a hawk. I tried to turn away from him a little, but he failed to get the message. If anything, he craned his neck even more.

"I can't do this if you keep staring like that."

Luca promptly pretended to be interested in something else. After that, my hand steadied, my strokes became less chaotic. The signals in my brain were firing one after the other, without any conscious instruction.

Luca waited in silence the entire time, which I found both unnerving and considerate. He treated me like I was some rare avian species and he was the niche bird watcher.

Finally, it was done. And it was . . .

Crap. It's a piece of absolute crap.

I dumped the damp canvas in front of him and shrugged my bookbag onto my shoulder. "I'm going now."

The high school was only a mile away from where I lived, so even though I could drive and Mom offered to buy me a car when the summer was over, I declined. She was a single parent and worked two jobs. We only needed one car. It got me to work when I needed it to.

I broke free of that suffocating art room before Ellie could chat me up again. Soon I was on the sidewalk, listening to the cars drive by and feeling . . . lighter.

What did you expect, Blaire? Your therapist recommended that you return to painting a long time ago.

I never missed a session. I took my medicine. I journaled. I did everything therapy asked of me. Everything except that.

I internally cringed when I thought back to the sloppy portrait of pancakes that I dropped off with Luca. At least he wasn't going to call me "Blush" anymore. And if he ever went against his promise . . . I am going to kick him where the sun don't shine.

Okay, that was a little harsh. I probably wouldn't, but I'd replay it over and over in my mind and pretend I went through with it.

"Hey Blaire!"

I froze.

"Wait up!"

I turned around to see Luca coasting down the hill towards me on a skateboard. His pink curls chased the wind. Even from this distance I could see my painting – still wet – tucked awkwardly under his arm. He pumped his leg to speed up, which I thought was very unwise given that he was already going downhill.

He came at me full speed, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

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Hi Blush Babies! Did you like the chapter? What about the art at the beginning? What did you have for breakfast this morning? 

I want to dedicate this chapter to the lovely @KeffiRosita!