I got the email two hours ago. I’ve been avoiding it like the bad omen that it probably is, wishing it would just disappear from my inbox and never resurface in my life.
With November here already, the air is colder, crisper and somehow more annoying than ever. Nothing in my closet looks good and I wonder how I got through last winter with such a pathetic wardrobe. Then it hits me. Park wasn’t here last winter. I was able to go days without shaving my legs and I wore the same three sweatpants on rotation every day of the week. When I wasn’t wearing my paint pants of course.
The paint pants are an old pair of yoga pants that I once got paint on while I was making a canvas. Now I wear them almost every time I paint, just in case I spill anything.
Last winter was easy when it came to finding clothes to wear. However, it was the hardest winter ever emotionally. I missed him like crazy. His racing schedule was hectic and I barely saw him for Christmas.
Now this year he’s here for good, and all of the time. As much as I love seeing that boy every day, right now my closet is looking pretty dreary.
In an effort to prolong picking out something to wear, I grab my phone again and look at the stupid email. Midterm grades are in. I’m only taking two classes this semester, both because I suck, and because my parents had some massive house expenses to fix last summer and couldn’t afford to pay for more classes. Not that I minded. I hate college.
I know I need to get it over with, rip off the proverbial bandage and see what kind of grades I’m making so I’ll know if I need to drop a class. Or two. When I click the link and see my grades load, I’m not exactly sure how I feel.
I’m passing both classes, but barely. As I’m contemplating how pissed my parents would be if I dropped out of school forever, my phone gets a new email message. I have another sale on Etsy.
A familiar feeling falls over me as I read through the email, noticing that the buyer has purchased two canvasses. It’s the same feeling, the same nagging idea that’s been bothering me every single time I make a new sale. The idea that maybe I should just quit school, cut back my hours at C&C and focus on painting full time.
It’s crazy, right? I can’t possibly think this is a smart idea.
But it feels like a smart idea. My inspirational quote canvases have been selling almost as quickly as I can list them, and it’s been steady since day one. This could be a thing. This could be my thing. I scroll back through my emails to the one that displays my class grades. Community college isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Maybe some people do well in these stupid mandatory classes and then go on to be super successful business people who sit in a cubicle all day and stare at a computer and so business work.
That’s never going to be me. I’ll never survive a cubicle job. I need to be creative, to keep moving, keep dreaming, keep making beautiful things.
Scowling at the grades email, I swipe back to the new sale email. On the bottom of the invoice, the buyer has written me a message in the notes section.
I’m so excited to get these for my office wall! PS – do you do custom work? I’d love to have my company’s slogan painted on a canvas. The girls in my office are going nuts for #BeccasInspirations!
I frown. Are people so obsessed with using hashtags that they now use them in random conversations? She does know this is an email and I can’t actually click on it, right? My stomach fills up with butterflies as an insane idea comes to me. Maybe the hashtag symbol wasn’t some kind of mistake. Maybe…
I find the Instagram app on my phone and open it, going straight to the search feature. I type in #BeccasInspirations and gasp. There are already forty-two images with that tag, all of them are of my artwork. One has a picture of a girl holding up her canvas and smiling. The caption reads:
This quote motivates me so much! I LOVE IT #BeccasInspirations
Another user has posted a screenshot of a canvas on my Etsy page, saying they want to buy that canvas for their sister’s wedding gift. I look at every single picture and read the comments, finding that all of them are positive and sweet. Not a single person has said anything like:
These canvases are dumb and pointless. I hope the artist doesn’t quit her day job. #BeccasInspirations
My cell phone screen gets blurry and I realize I’m shaking with the buildup of emotions inside of me right now. Not only are random strangers buying my art, they are talking about it on social media.
Maybe my dream isn’t so stupid after all.
When Park calls me in the afternoon, he sounds exhausted. “Hey there, beautiful,” he breathes into the phone as if he’d just finished a hundred yard dash.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
I hear the beeping sound of his truck’s door being opened while the keys are in the ignition. “Just worn out,” he says, pausing to take a drink. “Jace and I have been looking at some land and I just walked like a thousand miles through knee-high grass.”
“Why are you looking at land? You just bought and house.”
He hesitates for a moment and I can almost picture the face he makes as he contemplates telling me the truth or making up a lie. So I beat him to the punch. “Tell me the truth, boy.”
He laughs. “Well…I was going to tell you about this in a more … exciting … atmosphere.”
Okay, now I’m curious. “What does that mean?”
“Trust me, it’s cool and you’ll like it. But can it wait until dinner? Jace wants us to double date and tell our old ladies the good news at the same time.”
“So Bayleigh and I are old ladies now, hmm?”
“Hey, those were Jace’s words, not mine.”
“Okay fine, I’ll wait. So what else is up?”
“I don’t know, you tell me. You sound like you have a secret yourself.”
I bite my lip and clutch the phone tighter. He knows me so well. But I don’t know why I’m so worried about telling him my idea—it’s a good idea. I take a deep breath so that I can let it all out at once. “I’m selling a lot of artwork and I just found out that people are talking about me online and they like my work and I kind of hate college and I’m thinking I should just drop out and focus on my business.”
“Wow. How did you say all of that in one breath?”
I sigh into the phone. “Seriously? Is that all you have to say?”
“No, Becca, I’m sorry. I was just playing around.”
I hadn’t even realized my heart was pounding until I take a deep breath and feel like I’m running a marathon. Even though this is my life, Park’s thoughts on it really matter to me. Maybe I’m just delusional. I need some confirmation that this could be a good idea. “Well?” I ask impatiently.
“You really want my opinion?”
I nod and then realize he can’t see me. “Yes, I do.”
“I think you should do more than just paintings. You should take your most popular designs and sell digital prints, stickers, coffee mugs, stuff like that. Put your designs on T-shirts and handbags and stuff. The world likes your art and you could set all of that up online without having to paint more canvases.”
“That sounds like…like you’re encouraging me…”
“Of course I’m encouraging you. I’m very much a ‘follow my heart’ kind of person. If that’s what you want to do, do it. I’ll support you.”
“You’re the best,” I say with a smile.
“Hey,” he says suddenly.
“Yes?”
“I miss you.”
“I miss you, babe.”
“I mean I
miss you
, miss you.” I can almost see his eyebrows wiggling in that suggestive way that makes my stomach flutter.
“Maybe we can remedy that,” I whisper into the phone, hoping that I sound at least a little bit sexy.
“I hope so.”
The remedy comes quickly. Ollie calls me just a few minutes after I get off the phone with Park and tells me that C&C BMX Park will be closed down tonight, courtesy of a transformer outage that left the facility without power. The power company will have it up and running by tomorrow morning, but for now, I’m free.
It’s only four p.m. when I get the good news, and I decide to surprise Park with my company. He had said he was planning on cooking a frozen pizza for dinner, so I know he’ll be home. Nervous is about the most underrated word in the world to describe how I feel as I shower and get ready to drive over to his house. I use the fancy conditioner so my hair will look great, and I shave my legs…twice. I want tonight to be perfect because you never know if it’ll be
the
night.
I’m so excited and anxious to see him that I don’t bother going through every outfit in my closet to deliberate on them—I just grab something quickly. Luckily, that something I chose was a form-fitting pair of ripped up jeans and a black tank top with rhinestone decorations along the neckline. If the cleavage on this shirt happens to make my boobs look awesome well…that’s just a random coincidence.
Knowing that boy can eat an entire frozen pizza by himself, I stop at the grocery store and grab another pizza, a dozen brownies from the bakery and a two liter of Coke. The whole time I’m shopping and driving to his place, Park is texting me silly things about how much he misses me and how he can’t wait to see me. Even with those texts as confirmation, I’m still freaking out when I arrive at his house.
His truck is the only vehicle in the driveway and that makes me oddly relieved. It would have been awkward to stumble upon a party I wasn’t invited to.
Then, of course,
of course
—as soon as I’m feeling good about surprising Park with dinner and brownies, he doesn’t answer the door. I knock again, feeling increasingly stupid as I hold a bag of food and stand on his front porch. When he doesn’t answer, I take out my phone and shoot him a text.
Me:
So…what are you doing?
Less than a minute later, he replies.
Park:
Playing Xbox. How’s work?
I smile. I know how that boy plays Xbox—loud as hell and taking up all of his attention. He’s probably in his bedroom upstairs and can’t even hear me knocking on the door. Because he’s unknowingly scared the crap out of me, I decide to play a little game with him too.
Me:
I have a problem…
Park:
What? Are you okay?
Me:
No…
My phone rings. Leave it to Park to insist on having important conversations on the phone. I answer and try not to laugh. “Hello?”
“Babe, are you okay? What happened?”
“Calm down, it’s nothing big,” I say with a smile. “I just have this little problem.”
“And what is that?”
“My boyfriend won’t answer the door.”
All I can hear are shuffling sounds and then the heavy footfalls of Park running down the wooden staircase. The front door clicks and then swings wide open. Park takes one look at me, my bag of food, and the lopsided grin on my face. Then he swoops me into his arms.
My bag drops to the floor just inside of the living room. I squeal. He buries his lips into the crook of my neck and kisses me repeatedly, making me laugh uncontrollably. Then he pulls away and kisses me on the lips, right where I need him to kiss.
“I missed you,” he whispers, cupping my face in his hands. Before I can tell him that I missed him too, he crushes his lips over mine and slides his hands down my body, gripping me around the waist. I grab his shoulders, digging my fingers into him as he pulls me closer to him.
When I come up for air, he pulls me up, up, up, until I’m eye level with him and my feet are hanging in the air. I wrap them around his waist and he slides his hands into my back pockets, holding me firmly against his chest. My toes tingle and my heart races and forehead presses against his. “I missed you too,” I whisper.
“The more time I spend with you the more I know I can’t live without you.”
I smile, too love-drunk to bother saying anything. Instead of talking, I just grip his shoulders and lean into him, soaking up every second of this moment. My eyes close and he moves, carrying me with him. When I feel a step, I lift up and open my eyes. “Where are we go—Park!” I wriggle but he holds me tighter. “Oh my God, you can’t walk up stairs with me.”
He smirks. “Why not?”
“I’m too heavy!” It would be entirely too embarrassing if my weight made us both tumble down the stairs.
Park makes this arrogant snort as we round the corner of the staircase halfway up to the second floor. “You are nowhere near being too heavy, miss.”
When we get to his bedroom, he lowers me onto the bed. Only he doesn’t have a real bed yet, so it’s an air mattress. At least he’s had time to put a new set of sheets on top of it. I’m pretty sure my heart is pounding so hard that it’s nearing the point of exploding, but I take a deep breath and run my fingers through Park’s hair as he hovers over me.
Moments like this are so powerful, so full of love and bliss and an insane amount of adrenaline. We make out, lips crashing together, tongues grazing, bodies pressed together. I don’t even realize when my hands have slid so far up Park’s shirt that he leans back and pulls it off his head, tossing it to the floor.
Slowly, he lowers back down, bracing himself above me with his hands on the bed on either side of my head. This position makes his biceps look freaking huge and his chest—well his chest is always perfect. I can’t help myself when my fingers trail over his abs, up to his chest and then back down again.
“I love you,” I say.
“Are you talking to me or my abs?” he asks.
I roll my eyes. “Both.”
“I’m cool with that.” He kisses me again, and my hands find their way around his waist and up his back. Every movement that brings him closer to me, makes me the warmth in my stomach turn to fire.
Park leans on one hand and slides the other one up my shirt, slowly, purposely. I get chills at the touch of his warm hand over my skin. He rests his thumb and index finger just under my bra, and then he makes eye contact with me and rubs his thumb over my breast. I squirm in the best way possible and pull him closer to me, digging my hips upward into his.
“Mmm,” Park groans. I bite my lip and pull him down to me, kissing him harder than before. The next thing I know, my shirt is gingerly pulled over my head and tossed on top of the other shirt on the floor.
Exposed, I feel a wave of nervous excitement and then immediately blush when Park doesn’t hide the fact that he’s checking out my body. Even though I still have a bra on, I can’t help but squirm. He holds me in place and leans down, kissing the top of my breast and then moving to the other one, trailing soft kisses over my skin. He leans back, sitting on his heels as he straddles me. He dips his thumbs into the waistband of my jeans and slides them across my hips. The sensation makes me gasp as a rolling tingle of pleasure settles in my stomach. Then, instead of going lower, his hands—his warm amazing hands—slide up my stomach and cup my breasts. He squeezes them and kisses my cleavage, grinding his hips into mine.
“Oh my god,” I moan, throwing my head back and grinding back into him.
“Do you…” Park says, his voice raspy between his ragged breathing. “Do you want to…?”
“What?” I ask a second before the answer comes tumbling down on me like a pile of bricks. He’s talking about sex. My throat dries up and the uncomfortable panic I feel must show in my face because Park climbs off of me and rolls over on the air mattress.
“It’s okay, baby.” He brushes a hand through my hair. “We don’t have to.”
“I want to, I just…” I swallow and try to think of the right words. I mean, does he even have protection? Should I bring some next time? Isn’t it supposed to hurt? Ugh. I can’t say any of that out loud.
Park places a kiss on my forehead. “We can take our time. There’s no rush.”
“Thanks,” I manage to say even though my throat has totally dried up and my heart is no longer beating. Embarrassment fills every inch of my body. “I’m sorry, I—”
Park shakes his head. “No. No sorry, no regret. It’s just sex, babe. We’ll do it when you’re ready.”
I sigh and look away, unable to say anything because I’m so freaking embarrassed. Maybe I should just be single for the rest of my life so I’ll never have to feel this way again. I bet he’s never been denied before—not with other girls. California girls. Girls who aren’t me.