Page 16 of Tilly in Technicolor
Tilly says something back that I can’t make out, but I’d be willing to guess it was snarky and sarcastic.
Amina chuckles, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Gonna be a lively trip, isn’t it?”
I swallow, eyes still stuck at the corner Tilly disappeared behind. “I’m not sure any of us will make it out alive.”
Chapter 10It Gets Worse
OLIVER
We take the tube to Westminster, and Tilly’s head darts around like an excited pigeon’s the entire time, her eyes wide as if she’s trying to memorize every crack and crevice of London.
It’s a bit distracting, really. The way she’s so… inaweof everything. I can’t seem to stop looking at her looking at everything else.
She decides to break the peaceful silence between us as we make our way over the bridge to the opposite side of the Thames.
“So, you run a famous Instagram account?” she asks, focus still bouncing around the city like a rubber ball. She stops to lean perilously over the edge of the railing to look at the murky water. Mona and Amina keep walking, and it feels like my brain is being tugged in opposite directions. Do I follow my bosses or do the polite thing and engage in a conversation?
I clear my throat, something about her tone making me feel prickly and awkward. “I wouldn’t say it’sfamous.”
“That’s good,” she says, popping back to vertical andcontinuing to walk. “Only fuckbois proudly claim Instagram fame. Glad to see you have a humble head on your shoulders.”
I think she’s complimenting me, but I’m not sure. “The account has garnered a decent following, though,” I say, feeling like I should keep talking. I don’t know why, but I have this odd need to… impress her?
“Mayhaps I spoke too soon,” Tilly whispers to herself. In that awful British accent, I’d like to add.
“But a lot of that came afterArchitectural Digestfeatured it on their ‘Design Inspiration Accounts to Follow’ post,” I say, words tumbling out of me.
Tilly audibly groans. “Yup, I definitely spoke too soon.”
I take it I’ve officially solidified myself as a “fuckboi” to Tilly. Whatever. I’m not going to downplay the excitement of an international design authority recognizing my page. I’ve just never really had the inclination to sort of… brag about it before. It’s like my head’s on backward I feel so turned around.
“What’s your handle?” she asks.
“OliverClarkColors.”
“Wow. How witty and creative.”
“What’s yours? KetchupPrincess04?”
Tilly’s mouth slams shut so loudly I hear her molars clang together. A blush rushes to her cheeks, warm and startling. Pantone 16–1720, Strawberry Ice. It rather suits her.
Her lips twitch as she eyes me, and I instantly feel bad. I’m nottryingto be a prick to Tilly, but she seems to bring out the worst in me.
“I’m annoyed that that was actually an excellent burn,” she says at last, rolling her eyes. “But, kudos, or whatever.”
The nervous breath I was holding whooshes out of me. This girl is going to give me an aneurysm with how hard it is to figure her out.
Tilly pulls out her phone and starts typing as we walk.
“Holyshit,” she says, eyes bugging out of her head. “You have over one hundred and twentythousandfollowers.” She stops in the middle of the sidewalk. Again. Mona and Amina are going to be a kilometer ahead of us at this rate.
Her finger flies as she scrolls through her phone. She holds it out, showing me one of my more popular posts.
Like all my posts, it’s a collage of four seemingly dissimilar images; swiping to the left reveals the Pantone code of the shared color that threads them together, the subsequent images showing where the color exists in the four photos.
The one Tilly has up features theMona Lisa’s famous smile; a browning leaf with the veins magnified from a raindrop; Mum’s calico cat, Luna, stretched out in a triangle of sun; and a coastal slice of Valencia, the tiled roofs outlining the aqua water. This is for Pantone 7566, a vibrant brown with a depth of orangish hues that pull you in. Captivate you.
The caption reads:
