Her Best Friend's Dad

My feet are sore from my high heels by the time I finish my third round of mingling with guests and answering questions. Tasha is in the corner, face pinched in concern as she plays with her phone. Any time I’ve gotten near, she finds someone to go talk to. She says she has a lot to do for an upcoming tournament, and after all our years of friendship, I try to give her the benefit of the doubt. I don’t think too much about it since I have so much to distract me.

Tomorrow will be all about Tasha. Despite her protests that everything is fine, I can tell she needs to talk. I just need to get her to open up to me.

“This all looks great, Lia.” My dad squeezes my shoulder as he looks at a mixed media piece that goes from floor to ceiling. It was one I brought back with me from my studio and put back together here at the gallery. “I knew you were a good artist, but I guess I hadn’t looked all that closely at anything you didn’t have at home. I’m so proud of you, honey.” I lean into his awkward hug. “Your mom would be proud, too.”

My eyes prickle with tears, and I admonish him for making me cry. “Dad! You’re going to ruin my makeup!” I shove my coffee into his hands and go over to where Tasha is guarding my purse. Despite having her eyes glued to her screen, she already has a tissue held outstretched.

“Thanks,” I mutter. I wipe at the smudges of eyeliner. “How bad?”

Her lips curve upwards into a half-smile. “You look gorgeous. And, Lia, if that pink painting in the other room doesn’t sell, I want it in my room.” I lose her to her phone again. This time she takes a call. She whispers and turns away, and if not for the sparkle in her eyes, I’d have assumed it was something bad. Tasha is shit at keeping secrets. That’s the only reason I know that her behavior isn’t leading up to some surprise party celebration of my show.

I return to where my father is chatting with one of his friends, and I see a huge bouquet of flowers come bobbing down the hallway. There are white roses and indigo lilies that are set off with the darkest greenery I’ve ever seen a florist use in an arrangement. It looks like something out of a dream garden. The flowers are lowered, and Beck grins at me from above them.

“Congratulations, Lia. You did it.” He hands me the crystal vase and its flowers, leaning down to kiss me on the cheek. It’s all very chaste, and I’m not sure if he’s doing this because my father is there or because he is trying to put some distance between us. His face is blank but pleasant, the same one he gives any coworker. Beck smells so good, like his soap and cologne, but also just the scent that is him. My mouth waters as I breathe in that scent, and my mind replays the feeling of him on top of me, inside of me, and I whimper.

He smiles, and I know he heard me. His public persona fractures; hunger burns to life in his eyes, and I can feel the need stretching between us. Beck walks behind me, his fingers trailing over the top of my ass, and I don’t need to look at him to know he’s smirking as I lean back into his touch. His mask comes back up as he twists, all in the same smooth movement, greeting my father and his companions. It’s easy to forget that they have been friends, almost by necessity thanks to Tasha and me, for over fifteen years.

I know I’m smiling like an idiot in love… love? I mull over the word as I take the flowers to an empty spot where hors d’oeuvres have already been finished and replenished a few times. Tasha is staring at me when I look up, and heat floods my cheeks at having been caught. She knows me too well to write off my giddiness as being happy about the flowers. I don’t want her to know about Beck and me. She wouldn’t understand. I promised her… My heart aches at the duplicity of the act, is torn by knowing I shouldn’t do it again. Not if I want a chance at keeping my best friend.

The colors of the floral arrangement remind me of something, and I snatch off a velveteen petal from a lily to carry its indigo beauty with me to gallery’s front parlor. There, surrounding the shattered glass and mirrors forming a giant compound eye, are the same shades of night sky as the flowers. I tuck the petal into a gap between a gear and nail. If this piece doesn’t sell, I will try to preserve the flowers and attach them somehow. For me, it will always be the piece that witnessed my first kiss with Beck.