Page 8 of Flame After the Fumble

Darting my hands to my chin, I wipe aggressively. “Chill. It’s paint from class. We’re working on color blending.” I smile and let out a giddy laugh. Springs U offered a second term summer course for incoming art majors, like myself. It’s basically a crash course to prepare you for year one as an art major. After losing my vision of attending NOLA South with the only boy I’ve ever loved, this was the opportunity of a lifetime. It allowed me to get out of New Orleans as soon as possible to spend my first summer before college in my new home doing what I was born to do.

“You’re so artsy fartsy,” Willow hollers into the phone before bursting into a laugh.

“Don’t you mean the female version of Picasso?” I wink back before telling her to go finish whatever she’s working on before she has an aneurysm because she's not putting her full focus on her work. She ends the call with her famous ‘be careful’ speech. She’s never had to worry about me. Layne had it covered. Until he didn’t. The memory takes over my body like a bad dream. How cool, calm, and collected he was explaining himself after getting caught. His scent burns into my memory. A mix of dewy sweat and alcohol. His words cycle over and over in my head.

We had a high school relationship. What did you expect?

It was one mistake. Can you blame me?

I don’t see what the big deal is.

All couples go through stuff like this.

Layne’s disgusting words that night ring through my head making me light-headed and nauseous. The night after I walked in on him and a tall brunette with curves for days, making out on his bed, just a few short months before we were supposed to begin our adult life together, was an utter trainwreck. The first few hours I was shell-shocked and deep in denial. As time passed, I turned dangerously angry and confused about the boy I thought I knew. When the morning sun peeked through my bedroom blinds, I sobbed into a tear-stained soaked pillow until I ran out of tears to cry.

Hating every emotion I rolled through that weekend, I vowed to shove the hurt deep down inside where it can’t see the light of day. Instead, I start prepping for what tonight will bring.

Shaking the thought of that torturous night out of my head, I pop into my roommate, Emberly’s, room to see if she needs help with her makeup. We lucked out and scored the dorms that have separate bedrooms with a shared kitchenette and bathroom.

“Need help with anything?” I ask as I peer into Emberly’s space-themed room. Glow in the dark stars decorate the ceiling and a galaxy light projects intergalactic images on the walls.

Emberly peeks up at me, sitting cross-legged on her floor. She’s leaned in with barely an inch between her face and the mirror propped against her wall. I can already tell the eye-liner situation is dire by the way her hand is positioned around the liquid tube. Her eyes are stricken with panic and her hand shakes. “I tried to do it myself, but this is what happened.” Turning her shoulders, she moves her hands away from her face to show me the issue. “I’m not used to the whole makeup thing.”

“Don’t worry, chica.” I step bare-foot into the mood-lit room and join her criss-crossed in front of the mirror. “Eye liner is very tricky. It took me years of nights out on Bourbon Street to get the look just right.” My head leans slightly on her shoulder, offering reassurance. When I met Emberly on move-in day, Icould tell she was shy and a bit sheltered, maybe even harboring hurt deep within her soul like I was. Her mom hovered fiercely, making sure she had all the necessities in her dorm. Emberly fidgeted with her glasses the whole time and second guessed every decorative decision she made. I, on the other hand, unloaded everything myself and couldn’t care less what anyone thought of my artistic decisions. Mom offered to make the drive with me, but in my heart, I knew this was something that had to be done on my own.

“You don’t have to. . .” She retreats within herself, scooting a few inches away from me. “Bring me out. I’ve. . .ummm. . .never been to a bar, and you clearly know what to do.” She gestures her arms up and down, drawing attention to me. Her hands make a tight wrap around her legs, curled up to her chest as she shields herself. “I mean don’t feel obligated, is all.” She nods her head as if that would give me an easy out to run the town solo.

“No. No. No.” I shake my head adamantly. “Youare coming with me.” I close the space between us and grab her hands from around her knees. “Because you’re my friend, and friends hangout together.” A warm grin spreads across my face.

“Are you sure?” she questions with hesitation. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“You aren’t. I probably need you there more than you need me.” I glance down, flustered at the thought of giving her my relationship history lesson this early in our roommate days. Reaching my hand out for the eyeliner and giving her a smirk, I say, “Let’s get your cat eye perfect before we try on outfits.”

She hesitantly hands over the eyeliner to the pro. I started wearing makeup younger than most, so tutorials became my best friend until I got looks just right.

“So, what are bars like?” I take a makeup wipe out and clear her lids before going to work. She tries her best to stay still whileI apply the gel to her closed eyelids. Her soft skin isso easyto apply to.

“Depends. Most are loud, hot, and full of questionable decisions.” I laugh, trying to muster up the right words to explain bar life. “I’m just the type of chaos that loves it.”

Emberly’s cheeks blow up like a pufferfish, trying her best not to talk too much and ruin the perfectly straight line I’m aiming to achieve. “What do I do?” she whispers.

“Stay by me, and you’ll be alright. I promise I won’t leave you alone.” Placing the lid on the liquid eyeliner, I admire my work, making sure each side is even in length and thickness. “Ok. You can open your eyes now. If you don’t like it, we can redo it. That’s what makeup remover wipes are for.”

She flutters her eyes open and gazes at herself in the mirror. She tilts her head side to side to get a close-up of each eye, all the while her mouth has formed an ‘o.’ “Oh my gosh. I don’t recognize myself.”

“I think you look hot, but I’d be more than happy to start over. I tried not to apply too. . .”

Before I can finish, Emberly cuts in. “I love it.” She spins her head to look me square in the eyes. “I’ve never seen myself like this.”

I squeal and pump my arms into the air at my success. “Get used to it because you’ve just become my makeup muse!”

She throws her arms around my shoulders, squeezing lightly. “Thank you,” she mutters into my ear.

“Now you really look old enough not to get carded.”

This is going to be a good night. Nothing can bring me down.

6

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