Page 3 of Wet Paint

I headed back to my painting, ready to cover it again, but Will stopped me. “Leave it. I like looking at it.”

With surprise and maybe a bit of excitement written across my face, I left the sheet on the stool and grabbed my bag. I was silent for a moment, looking at Will as a kind of comfort settled between us. “See you around,” I finally said.

“See you around,” he repeated with a nod. “Enjoy your birthday, Ivy.”

“Thank you.” With a tight smile and a strangely aching heart, I stepped out of the art room to head back to my apartment.

Will stayed on my mind for the rest of the evening, and I couldn’t stop thinking about him looking at my painting, possibly taking inspiration from it, while he continued to work on his own masterpiece.

Chapter 2

IVY

I had three shots, half a beer, and one Espresso Martini.

I wasn’t fully drunk, but I wanted to leave.

I wasn’t tired or anything. Actually, I was having the time of my life with Ruby and the others, dancing in the bar, singing karaoke, and letting everyone know that it was my birthday. Not that they needed to be told. It was written on the cowboy hat Ruby made me wear. It lit up all around, and the words “BIRTHDAY GIRL” flashed in bright pink every now and then.

I wasn’t much of an attention seeker, but on my birthday, I was allowed to be.

At some point between one song and the next, I felt myself start to drift. The fun was still there, but I wasn’t. My body kept swaying to the beat, but my mind had wandered off to somewhere quieter. Somewhere I didn’t have to smile so hard or prove I knew every single word to every song.

I told Ruby I was stepping outside for air. She nodded, distracted by the bartender pouring shots. I didn’t mention I wouldn’t be coming back, but I sent her a quick text before I walked down the road and back to campus. It was a short walk, and it sobered me up fast. It was late, probably close to two, and the paths were empty. A few dorm windows were still lit, butmost of the school had shut down for the night. I kept walking, toward the one building that might still have someone awake inside.

The art wing.

Will usually stayed late when he was working on something. Sometimes all night long, just painting, music playing softly in the background, the rest of the world shut out. Earlier, he told me he’d be there all night, and I hoped he still was.

When I pushed the door open, the hallway lights flickered on automatically. The building was dead silent except for the low hum of the two vending machines at the end of the hall. I made my way toward the back studio, and as I reached the doorway, I paused.

Will was there, and I watched him through the glass window in the door.

He stood in front of the canvas, brush in one hand, and a palette in the other. He was studying his artwork, which now had a beautiful, light blue and grayish sky.

I thought about turning back around and leaving, not wanting to interrupt him while he worked. But I was selfish in that moment, and I wanted to be around him. Talk to him. Just…be there with him.

He turned just as I pushed open the door and stepped into the room.

He didn’t look surprised. Just…pleased. Like he had expected me to come but never got his hopes too high.

I smiled and moved closer, my gaze shifting to the painting one more time. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he said, setting his brush down.

I felt a little breathless, and my heart was beating faster. But I wasn’t nervous. Just happy to be there with him. “You’re still here,” I stated.

“Yeah.” He huffed out a laugh and turned his head toward the painting. “I won’t leave before it’s finished.” His eyes met mine again, and a smile tugged at his lips as he took in my glowing cowboy hat. “How was your birthday celebration?”

“Fun.” I pressed my lips together, wanting to dump all my thoughts on him. But I didn’t. I wanted to hear him talk. Hear his thoughts. Mine didn’t seem so important. Nothing did when he was around.

“Did you drink?” He looked amused, but he wasn’t making fun of me. He genuinely wanted to know how my evening went, and I figured a little dumping wouldn’t hurt.

“I turned twenty-one, so…drinking is mandatory. Not that I will drink every weekend now,” I corrected with a soft laugh.

“Didn’t think you would. I’m glad you had fun.”

I nodded, looking around for a second before meeting his eyes again, and leaning against the table next to me. “How did you celebrate your twenty-first birthday?”

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