Pieces of Me (6 page)

Chapter 8

It's a beautiful, bright and sunny day without a cloud in the sky when I meet Olivia at her dorm so we can go check out the new art studio.

             
“I thought it was supposed to rain today?” I ask her pointedly as we get into her car.

             
“The weatherman is human—he must've made a mistake,” she says slyly.  I suspect that she planned this all along. I make a mental note to check the weather myself from now on.

             
Even though I know it will be a very short trip, the longer we’re in the car, the more anxious I feel. The whole time we've been on the road, my fingernails have been digging into the seat cushion and I keep checking and rechecking to make sure my seat belt is secure. I'm trying my best to rein in my building panic attack but she's so busy chatting away that I don't think she even notices. For that, I'm thankful. I’ve had more than enough pity to last me a lifetime. I just want to blend into the crowd here. 

             
“Parking's a bitch so we'll have to walk a bit,” Olivia announces as she pulls into the closest open spot and immediately shuts off the engine. She spares me a small smile and I wonder if maybe she isn’t as oblivious to my unease as I thought. Maybe she is just being her usual sweet self by not calling me out on it. 

             
I quickly get out of the car and breathe a sigh of relief. It was only a ten minute car ride but it felt like forever. Olivia stays in the car, retouching her lip gloss, which gives me more time to get a grip.

             
Outside the car, I attempt to compose myself, pretending to be interested in looking around at the little town square. The sidewalk is lined with two and three story buildings full of antique shops and thrift stores. I see a dental office, a lawyer's office, an old apothecary, and even an old-fashion barber shop complete with the swirling red, white, and blue stripes of a vintage barber’s pole adorning the entryway.  All of the buildings are well-maintained with modern amenities but manage to retain their historic charm.  Trees are strategically spaced along the sidewalk in tiny landscaped plots, their bare branches reaching up toward the now gray-blue sky. It looks like it might storm after all.

             
Olivia finally emerges from the car and tucks her blonde hair behind her ear. “You good?”

             
I nod, knowing what she is really asking me. I feel my cheeks burn in embarrassment but she carries on like nothing happened—like I wasn't acting like a crazy person.

             
“It's this way.” She smiles brightly.

             
We walk along the faded red brick sidewalk toward the end of the block and as soon as we turn the corner she suddenly perks up.

             
“What a surprise!” Olivia says with over-exaggerated surprise. “What are you guys doing here?”

             
Beck and Holden are standing on the sidewalk in front of us, waiting outside Do Art Studios. From the expressions on their faces, it’s pretty obvious that I'm the only one in the dark today. At least Holden has the decency to appear embarrassed.

             
I grab Olivia by her hand and pull her off to the side. “What the hell?”

             
“What?” She feigns innocence.

             
“You know what,” I say through clenched teeth. “What are they doing here?”

             
“Beck asked me what I was doing today. When I told him, he asked if he could join us. I said sure, I mean, I didn’t think you would mind. Then he suggested bringing Holden along so he didn’t feel like the third wheel.”

             
“Like
he
would really be the third wheel in that scenario,” I scoff. “So what is this? Like a double date?”

             
“Well—”

             
“Olivia,” I groan.

             
Of course she has no idea why this is a bad thing—it's not like I've been forthcoming with those details of my life. But I still feel like this is some sort of betrayal even if it's not exactly her fault. I'm sure most girls would love to be on an impromptu date with Holden Whitmore—judging by the reaction of the girls I’ve observed on campus anyway.  I'm just not one of them.

             
“It’ll be fine, I swear! It might even be kind of fun. I mean, Holden
is
pretty cute.”

             
“I told you, I’m not interested. And besides, I think he has a girlfriend.”

             
“He doesn't.”
              “How do you know?” I ask.

             
“I might have asked,” she admits guiltily.
              “Who's Meredith then?”

             
“His ex-girlfriend. But she's long gone. Completely out of the picture so he's totally available.”
              “Olivia! I just told you, I'm not interested,” I repeat.

             
“Oh c'mon! Take one for the team then,” she pleads.

             
I glance over her shoulder and see that the guys are trying to eavesdrop on our private exchange and aren't doing a very good job at hiding it.

             
“Whose team?” I hiss through my teeth.

             
“Mine! I really like Beck,” she whispers. She looks like she's on the verge of pouting. “I was just so excited that he asked me out that I wasn’t thinking about how it would make you feel. I’m sorry. I should’ve asked you first.”

             
Yes, she should have. But it's obvious that she really wants to hang out with Beck. I could throw a fit and demand that she take me home right now since I feel like she lured me here under false pretenses. But then I think about what just happened at the car.

             
It's pretty apparent she knew I was panicking but instead of calling me out on it, she let me get a hold of myself privately.  She's proving to be a much better friend than I deserve.

             
“Fine. But this is
not
a date and Holden better be fully aware of that fact.”

             
She perks right back up and gives me a beaming smile. “Got it.”

             
“You owe me big for this.”

             
“Thank you, thank you, thank you times infinity! I will be forever in your debt,” Olivia promises.

             
I know that this isn't a real date, that it's just the result of bad judgment on Olivia's part. But it still feels like a date and the thought of going on a date with anyone but Sean feels all sorts of wrong. Just thinking about Sean makes my stomach churn uncomfortably.  Even though I know it's ridiculous, it still feels like I'm cheating on him or something. If I'm totally honest, a part of me is still waiting for him to call me or show up at my house with roses or some other grand gesture and tell me it was all a mistake—that it didn't really happen. But I know that will never happen. I lost all hope that this hole in my chest was ever going to go away a long time ago.

             
I'm just going to have to take matters into my own hands and make sure that Holden knows that there is absolutely no chance of this being a real date despite how it may seem.

             
“It won’t be that bad, I promise.” I know Olivia is being sincere and she's so excited about going out with Beck I decide I better at least attempt to be a good sport about it. She's all rainbows and sunshine and smiles when we approach the boys. I'm sure my face clearly expresses my feelings on the matter because Beck looks at me uncomfortably. But as soon as Olivia turns her infectious smile on him, I, along with my obvious annoyance, am all but forgotten.

             
“Aria.” Holden greets me casually, but an arresting look in his eyes causes shivers to run down my spine and my knees nearly buckle. My body is betraying me, which is embarrassing on so many levels. There is no reason this boy should affect me so easily. But the truth is my brain is spinning like I just spent an hour on a Tilt-a-Whirl. All I can do is stand there staring at him like a complete and total idiot, just from the way he looks at me.

             
Olivia nudges me and something about her sly little smile snaps me back into reality.

             
“Look, let's get one thing straight, this is not a date,” I declare with a little more force than was necessary.

             
“What do you mean this isn’t a real date?” he asks mockingly. “It seems like a real date to me.”

             
“You aren’t my type.” I mean for the words to be insulting, but a small, very small, smile slips, mocking the false sadness in his eyes so he probably thinks I'm just teasing, flirting even. But he really isn’t my type and I need him to know that.

“
You’re breakin' my heart,” he drawls, placing his hands over his heart in a cheesy, melodramatic sort of way.

             
“I highly doubt that,” I assure him. “We are just friends. Here to support our other friends as they venture into the messy world of casual dating. Nothing more.”

             
“Just outside, conscientious observers?”

             
“Exactly.”
              “Don't we get to partake in the fun?”

             
“Well, obviously, but in a completely casual, no nonsense sort of way.”
              “As long as I get to paint a fucking pot I'm cool.”
              “Glad we're on the same page.” I find myself
smiling at him for real this time.  His ridiculous enthusiasm for painting a pot is charming in a dorky sort of way.

             
I follow Beck and Olivia into the building, and Holden holds open the door.

             
“By the way,” he whispers. “I knew it.”

             
“Knew what?”

             
“That your smile would be worth the wait.”

              I don't know what to say to that so I quickly duck past him and find myself in a brightly lit room. It's oddly circular in shape and over-the-top cheerful. The walls are lined with shelves full of completed pieces, each organized according to color in an aesthetic way to display the sixty shades of glaze to choose from.

             
A girl that looks about our age, maybe a little older, with shoulder length brown hair streaked with blonde highlights greets us with a wide grin from behind the counter.

             
“Welcome to Do Art, my name is Autumn. Have you guys ever been here before?” she asks with far more energy than I think should be legal.

             
“No,” we all say simultaneously.

             
“Fantastic! Well, if you step over here I can show you the variety of pieces you can choose from.”

             
We follow Autumn over to an assortment of chalky white objects—everything from plates to coffee mugs to cute little ornate owls are available.

             
“Once you select your piece you can take a seat over there,” she says as she points to a few pub-height tables in the center of the room. “Then you just draw on your design with a pencil. Don't worry, it will burn off in the kiln. Select whatever color of glaze you want and paint it on. Super simple. Any questions?”

             
“Do we get to fire them ourselves?” Beck asks, sounding like a pyromaniac. I'm under the distinct impression he doesn't really understand the whole kilning process. It's not like you get to see the fire.  

             
“Oh no,” Autumn says, laughing and shaking her head at the ridiculous notion. “No, we will do that and your pieces will be ready to pick up in about a week.”

             
With that we each choose a piece. Olivia chooses a cupcake shaped piggy bank, Beck chooses a cereal bowl, Holden chooses a coffee mug, and I choose an owl. It's too cute not to take home. I've never painted pottery before so I'm surprised by the rough texture of the piece.  I browse the color choices, briefly considering painting it something bright and cheerful before deciding on slightly more subdued and realistic glazes. I'm not at all surprised when Olivia picks bubblegum pink. 

             
We sit down at a table covered in white butcher paper. A vase in the center of the table holds several different sized paintbrushes and a bowl of clean water sits next to it. I don't have to draw a design on my owl so I get right to work painting a coppery brown glaze on the feathers and a cream colored glaze on his belly. I choose a gorgeous blue shade for the eyes.