Things End, Deal With It

twenty eight

Nash takes me to Red Lobster.

"Wait, are you serious?" I ask when we pull in the parking lot and park. "Nash, this is expensive."

"It's fine, Cheyenne. This is your favorite place, and you had been complaining about how you hadn't been here in forever," Nash replies, unbuckling his seatbelt. "I wanted to take you."

"Well, this is great." I lean over and kiss him. He puts his hand on my cheek and deepens the kiss.

"I love you," he says as he pulls away. I smile.

"I love you." We get out of the car and go inside. We get a table and order our drinks. While we're looking at the menu, the biscuits come. The waitress comes back, and we order.

*

After we've finished eating, it's close to 2:30.

"Nash, we need to get to the art shop. My interview's at 3," I tell him as he starts the car. He nods as he backs out of the parking spot and drives onto the highway. "I'm gonna change into my jeans. Keep your eyes on the road." I grab my bag from the back and get out my jeans and flats. I take off my shoes and throw them in the backseat. I slide off my shorts then slide on my jeans. I zip and button them then put on my flats. I take down my hair and braid it to the side. I quickly put on my makeup in the small mirror. Nash drives around town for a bit before he finally finds the shop. "Splatter of Paint. Here it is." Nash pulls over to the curb, and I get out of the car. "You can come in and wait, or go somewhere. I don't know what you want to do," I tell Nash through the window.

"I'll come in." He turns off the car, and I step back away from it. On the outside of the shop, it looks small, but once you walk inside, it looks quite big.

"Wow," I gasp as I open the door. On my left, there are paint tubes and paint buckets. To my right, there are three easels in a row with chairs in front of each. As we walk further into the store, there are pencils, pens, markers, colored pencils, pastels, everything you could think of.

"Hello. Welcome to Splatter of Paint. How may I help you?" I look toward the source of the voice. A boy with floppy, sandy brown hair and a cute smile is standing behind the counter, resting his chin on his hands.

"Uh, I have a job interview."

"Oh," he chirps and picks his head off his hands. "I'll go get Rosie." As he stands up completely, I realize just how tall he is.

"Woah," I mouth, hoping no one saw. I look around a little while I wait for the two to come back. Nash follows me around, not really interested in all the art things, but still looking. I look through all the paint and brushes. I haven't been painting as much since I ran out of paint before school was out as I was using it in my art sessions after school.

"Good afternoon." I spin around to see an older looking woman with the boy. "I'm Rosie." I move forward to shake hands with her. "And you are?"

"Cheyenne." She smiles warmly at me, and I return it.

"Ah, Cheyenne. Who is your friend?" She drops my hand and looks behind me.

"This is Nash." He looks up at the mention of his name and stands beside me. Rosie reaches out to shake his hand and gives him a smile as well. They shake hands, and she returns her attention to me.

"This way." She motions me into the back, and she follows close behind me. We end in a small office with not much in it; a desk with a swivel chair behind it, a chair in front, a few filing cabinets, and an easel with a wet painting on it. "Please, sit." Rosie motions to the metal chair in front of the desk. She sits behind in the swivel chair. "So, Cheyenne. Why do you want to work here?" Rosie rests her hands on the desk and smiles. She's full of smiles it seems.