Page 65 of Clashing
She tried to ease back but I pulled her in tighter. “Not done.”
She laughed and returned the enthusiasm, nearly squeezing the oxygen out of me. She kissed the side of my head again and I slumped against her and inhaled her familiar perfume. When I believed I wouldn’t burst into tears, I loosened my arms.
She held me at arm’s length and arched a brow. “Is this how you’ve been dressing?”
I tugged at my paint-stained shorts and tank top and smiled sheepishly. “I was cleaning.”
“I shouldn’t be surprised.” She clicked her tongue and winked as she picked up her purse. “You never clean unless I’m going to be around.”
“I clean.”
A weak defense we both knew to be untrue. I hated cleaning. I became friends with the dust in my apartment. We respected each other’s space.
“God, you got more beautiful.”
I almost giggled because Dan had said the same thing to me. They were so alike. She yanked me into a one-armed hug and planted her lips on my temple. “I came to see you first. Wanna help me get my bags to Dan’s?”
“Yeah. I’ll show you where to park.”
Once we moved her car to the alley, we gathered her bags and entered Dan’s house. Dan couldn’t hide his excitement when Mom ran to him. One gentle hug was all she offered before switching into nurse mode, asking about his meds, schedule, physical therapy, and what kind of routine he was supposed to practice. While Dan complained the whole time, a glint shone in his eye.
They bickered and I sat on the couch, stifling laughter. Mom would say something, and he’d roll his eyes but smile when she wasn’t looking. I forgot how much I loved the three of us being together.
The rest of the day was spent catching up until Dan needed to go to bed. Earlier than Mom and me, thankfully. It’d only been two months, but it felt like forever since I’d seen her. A couple times I thought I might bring up what happened and therapy, but the night was full of laughter and reminiscing. I couldn’t do it. I wanted a happy night before I broke her heart.
And happy it was. Especially because I spent it in the guest room with her.
When I was younger, she was often gone all night for work. The nights she had off, we slept in the same bed. It was a way to feel close to each other. The long hours weren’t her fault. She raised me by herself while trying to get out of the debt she fell into escaping my dad. She may have worked a lot but the time she gave me, she gave me all of it. I didn’t know how she did it for so long. Never had time for herself but made sure our time together was the best.
A quick breakfast was all I could offer Mom and Dan before I rushed out the next morning. I had some commissions to finish before my first class.
I hadn’t taken an art class in a long time, and I was so bad with people, my stomach fluttered nervously while I gathered my supplies. Bag packed and social anxiety high, I drove to the studio and actively forced Ryker out of my mind anytime a motorcycle passed on the road.
Focus on your future.
Entering the studio, I paused. The small class elevated my already high heart rate. Thankfully, René was right about the woman teaching. Hera. She flitted over to me, brown hair streaked with pinks and purples and fingers black with charcoal. She spoke animatedly as she led me to an empty seat, then addressed the rest of the class.
“We’ll have a nude model tomorrow,” she said.
My eyes bugged. I’d learned to draw off models online, so I wasn’t unfamiliar with the human body, but it was a different experience to have that model in the same room. A lot of artists learned this way and I wanted to improve so . . .
Here we go, I guess.
Regardless of my awkwardness, the girl beside me started a conversation before class. Hannah. She was sweet, outgoing, and exactly what I stereotypically pictured when thinking of an artist. Funky glasses, hair in a messy bun, a very colorful jacket, and paint-stained jeans. I liked her immediately.
Class ended, and Hannah and I exchanged numbers, much to my relief. I worried my awkwardness ruined any potential friendships. Apparently not.Is this how people make friends?I didn’t know. I had one friend back home.One.I’d never been great at any kind of relationship.
I returned to Dan’s to find him and Mom already eating and a plate waiting for me. They asked about my classes and when I told them about Hannah, their jaws dropped before over-the-top excited questions started.Yeah.That’s how much I never made friends. I was almost twenty-three, and they were excited about a possible friend.
Mom and I spent the night together again, but I couldn’t work up the nerve to tell her about Todd. Partially because I was already nervous for my first shift back at the bar.
No more avoiding Ryker.
Minutes before my shift, I fiddled with the end of my lacy shorts and adjusted my blouse, telling myself to stop wondering if I looked good. Fidgeting with my ponytail, I twisted it into a bun instead. All the memories of Ryker fisting that ponytail while fucking me didn’t need to cycle through my mind tonight. Despite my sadness, that memory sparked right between my legs.
This is gonna be a long night.
I prepped the bar to open, and Tammy introduced me to the new guy, Peter. He was nice, but got distracted every time a hot biker strolled in. Considering that comprised most of our customers, he spent half the time fanning himself and talking about which regulars were the hottest. Luckily, when Ryker’s name came up, Tammy shut it down. So, she knew our fling ended. Ryker must’ve said something because I didn’t.
