Page 17 of What Is Love
Wyatt looked from Roe to me and back to Roe with an overly dramatic offended expression. “I’m pretty sure you haven’t been in love, either.”
Roe paused with his to-go cup inches from his mouth. He seemed to think about it, then shook his head. “I haven’t, but I still know what it is.”
“Well, I don’t,” I grumbled as I dragged my laptop back to my side of the table and closed it. Clearly Ms. Clark also knew I didn’t know, which made me wonder yet again why she’d assigned it to me.
“Do you really have to experience love to be able to draw it?” Wyatt asked. “Just watch a couple of romantic movies or read some romance novels.”
I bit my lip as I tried to think of a way to help them understand why I was struggling. “For me, love is like a penis. I know what it is, I know what they look like, but I don’t know what it’s like to have one. I’m afraid my lack of understanding will show.”
By their stunned faces, I knew it wasn’t the most appropriate analogy despite being a good one.
Wyatt snorted before they both started laughing. Like real belly-laughing, loud enough to turn heads in the café.
Unsure what to do, I waited for them to stop.
“I’m sorry,” Wyatt said between quieter laughs. “The first time we met, you talked about orgasms and sitting on assistants’ faces, and the second time we meet, it’s penises. You look so—I don’t know—prim and proper. It’s a shock to hear those sort of things come out of your mouth. I wonder what you’ll bring up next time we see each other.”
I glanced down, taking in my white skinny jeans, soft pale pink sweater, and strappy gold sandals. My jewelry was gold encrusted with diamonds. My hair was pinned up with a handful of curled tendrils hanging loosely, and my makeup was light. I didn’t have any doubts that I looked perfect.
Taking in their ripped jeans and casual shirts, it made me wonder how I appeared in their eyes. Probably just some spoiled and entitled rich girl who Roe went to school with.
When their laughter settled, Roe said, “Can you draw something that shows love between family?”
I knew he was trying to help, but that suggestion upset me. I stared down at my nearly empty coffee cup. “Yeah. I guess I can do that.”
My phone chimed from among my things on the table. I had to fight the urge to outwardly cringe when I saw that it was a text from Brandon. I didn’t bother opening the text, but I did note the time. “I have to go.” I pushed back my chair and stood.
As I began to collect my things, Wyatt said, “Going to meet up with the boyfriend?”
That time I couldn’t hide the cringe.
“He’s the one you were talking about at the party?” Wyatt asked with a softer tone.
I nodded. “Our parents—” I shut my mouth, knowing that it wasn’t something I should explain because it would only conjure questions I didn’t have time for and probably couldn’t answer. “It’s complicated.”
“That’s too bad,” Wyatt said.
I wanted to ask him what he meant by that, but I couldn’t stick around any longer.
After grabbing the last of my things, I looked at them. Wyatt was wearing a forced smile while Roe stared down at his coffee with a clenched jaw. I wondered if I had done something to upset him. It was so easy to be careless around him. I’d probably talkedmore to them in the last few days than I’d talked in the past month to anyone else. “Thanks for inviting yourselves to sit at my table.” There I went again. I couldn’t help myself. I couldn’t help butbemyself. “It was nice.”
Wyatt’s smile turned real. “I hope we run into each other again.”
As I walked away, Roe’s voice reached me over the loud café. “See you around.”
I slowed to glance back and found him staring at me. He didn’t look upset anymore. Instead, I could have sworn he had this look like he wanted me to stay.
It was a silly assumption. I was probably just seeing what I wanted to see because it was me who wished I could have stayed a little longer.
Chapter Five
“I’m sorry about Friday night,”Brandon said from where he sat next to me in the dimly lit theater. We had just found seats after hitting the concession stand for popcorn and drinks. “It’s just that you’re so beautiful and I’ve had a crush on you for so long.” He put his hand on my knee as his eyes met mine. “All the alcohol made my control slip, and for that, I’m sorry.”
I wasn’t used to someone apologizing. An overwhelming part of me had this urge to tell him it was all right even though I knew it wasn’t. It was what I always wanted others to say when I apologized, but it usually fell on deaf ears, and I’d have to hide new bruises the next day.
“I hope you’ll forgive me,” he said, which set off an urgency to accept. To make him happy, and with that, keep Mother happy.
“It’s all right.” The words felt hollow.
