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I hold out my hand like I’m introducing myself. “Hello, my name is Emerson. I’m a sophomore at Sinclair University, majoring in art. I painted the mural on a brick building downtown.”
She eyes my hand, but doesn’t take it, playfully slapping it away instead. “That mural is amazing. It looks professional.”
“Why, thank you,” I say, taking a small, dramatic bow. “My name is at the bottom of it, you know.”
“I never paid that much attention.”
Shocking.
When I look at the clock, I see that my shift is ending. I untie my apron and walk to the back to gather the rest of my things, bidding Ashley goodbye as I go. On the way to class, I see Sam in the quad, surrounded by a bunch of jocks and beautiful girls. The scene is so stereotypical.
Ah, the beautiful, popular people.
Sam surprised me. Again. Not because he asked about me at the coffee shop, but by noticing the mural in the first place. He doesn’t seem like the type to appreciate art or take the time to even look at it. I wonder if he saw my name at the bottom and was curious if it was me. Or if he drove by sometime this summer and saw me painting it. I had plenty of people stop while I was working to talk and take a closer look. Sam was never one of them. I would’ve noticed. He’s hard not to notice, even if I despise everything he stands for. Then again, maybe he paid attention because the hockey arena is front and center in the picture. That makes more sense.
But I can’t help the tingling that forms in my stomach, knowing people—all kinds of people, even the jocks of the world—are noticing my work. My art.
Somehow, it motivates me to keep going.
“Emerson,” someone says breathlessly.
I glance behind me to see one of my classmates running closer. Eliott Simpson. We’ve been in several core classes together. He’s a science major, and he’s planning to apply to medical school after graduation.
“Hi,” I greet him with a smile.
“Hi,” he says back. “Here, let me.” He hurries in front of me to open the door, allowing me to pass through before him.
“Thanks.”
Eliott enters behind me, and we walk down the hallway together. He’s always been incredibly considerate. A true gentleman. He’s easy on the eyes, too, with his dark brown hair that’s slightly too long, curling around his ears. And his sweet smile. He’s a little shy, but I get the impression he’s interested in me. I guess it’s the lingering stares or the way he goes out of his way to bump into me before and after class. I’m interested too, but he hasn’t asked me out yet.
“Did you finish your essay for English Lit?” he asks.
“I’ve got it outlined, but I haven’t written it yet.” We walk in the room and up a few rows, settling in the middle seats. “Let me guess … you’ve been done with yours for a week now.”
A blush rises on his cheeks as he diverts his eyes to the backpack he’s unloading at his feet. “Two weeks.”
I laugh. “I knew it. Overachiever.”
“I have an Anatomy exam next week when it’s due. I need to focus on that.”
I nod, glad that I’m not in classes that are so demanding. Science has never interested me.
The professor walks into the room and straight to her desk to get settled.
Eliott leans closer to me. “If you need help, let me know.”
I meet his blue eyes and decide to take the bull by the horns. “Actually … there’s a band playing downtown on Friday. Would you like to go with me?”
The blush deepens across his cheeks, but he smiles. “That sounds like fun.”
“So, yes?” I ask.
“Yes,” he answers. “But only if you let me take you to dinner first.”
“Deal,” I say.
“Okay.”
