Warmth floods my face. “Thanks.”
She bats her lashes and pulls down her blouse to show us cleavage while holding the pendant in place. “How do I look?”
“Come here, sexy lady,” Ev whispers dramatically and grabs Kayla’s arm, dragging her toward her on the sofa.
Kayla squeals and resists, a cat fight ensues, and I rush to rescue my pendant before it’s pulled to pieces. I retreat back to my armchair and roll my eyes at the two of them as they make faces at each other and cackle like demented hyenas.
“Are you done playing like two-year-olds?”
“Jeez, mellow down a little.” Kayla rolls off the sofa and lands on the carpet with an oof, and more laughter. “Oh man, I haven’t laughed like that in a while.” She grabs Ev’s foot and pulls until she gets her down on the carpet, too. “Missed you, girl.”
I do my best to ignore the tiny stab in my chest. They used to live together. Of course they miss each other. Heck, Ev has been telling me she missed me every week since I left town. But fighting insecurity is an uphill battle.
“Hey there, don’t look so gloomy.” Ev leans over and tugs on my leg. “Come down to our level. Madness is not contagious, I promise.”
“That’s what they all say,” I mutter, but slide down anyway, the box of my jewelry in my lap, and shoot her a smile. “In any case, it’s too late.”
“That’s my girl.” She snatches another pendant from my box and holds it up to the light. It’s polished copper, matching her curls. “Oh, I want this one, too.”
“I could sell you the box in return for a house on the lake.”
“You’re so incredibly generous.” Kayla bats her lashes at me.
“Just the box, though. I’m keeping the jewelry.”
“You’ll make a good businesswoman,” Ev says, distracted by the pendant. “Oh boy, I’m loving this one.”
“Then keep it,” I say.
“I’ll pay for it.”
“No way.
Ev sighs. “And here I thought you could think business.”
“We’re friends.”
Like I am with Jesse. We banter, we hug, we do things for each other. That’s what friends do, right? It doesn’t matter that I want him, that I want to kiss him, and lick him, and—
“Have you thought about your studies? You said you wanted to change direction, give up architecture.”
“Yeah.” I put the box beside me, stare blindly at the metal and glass. “I was thinking to take art as my major. I like creating things people wear, you know? Art that touches them, that touches their skin as much as their heart. Art that pierces them, and hugs them, and tethers them somehow.”
Silence spreads.
I blink. Uh-oh. Was it a mistake to say what I feel? People often find me weird.
But Kayla whistles and pats my foot. “That was deep, girl. Me like. You could use it as your logo. Art that pierces you to the heart, or something.”
I shake my head. Not so sure about that.
“I say go for it. Study art, focus on what you really like. What you got there,” Ev waves at my creations, “says the same. This is your path.”
That’s my feeling, too. I remember lying in my bed back in Chicago, wondering what craziness was driving me to return here, why I suddenly decided I needed to escape. Up until then I thought my parents could save me, fix my past and my fears, give me the best advice about my future. Architecture was their idea, as it combined art and more practical aspects of life.
I don’t want practical. I want my dreams back. I don’t want to bury my fears. I want to fight them and beat them.
Enough of running.