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Ozzy nudges me with his knee. “Since you’re the talented painter, I thought I’d let you take the helm on this one.”
A small giggle slips out. “That’s not fair, this is supposed to be a group effort.” I hand him a paintbrush. “You can paint the base color, deal?”
His lips lift up ever so slightly, dimpling his cheek. “Deal.”
Mixing some purple paint with some white, he begins to paint the bowl a light lavender color, matching his chipped nail polish.
I tap his fingertips. “Is purple your favorite color?”
His eyes snap to mine, crystalline aqua twinkling with amusement. “It is now.”
“What do you mean?”
He barks a laugh. “You don’t remember?”
My eyes narrow, looking at him quizzically.
Tonguing his cheek, he answers, “That video you sent me?” His eyes dip down to my chest, then back up. “You were wearing lavender lingerie.”
“Oh.” I feel my cheeks heat, slightly horrified that I’m still blushing after everything we’ve done together.
Holding in a laugh, he pulls me into a kiss before turning back to painting the bowl.
After we’ve eaten our fill of nachos and waited for the first layer of paint to dry, I try to think of what I could paint as decoration.
“What’s your favorite vegetable?” I ask.
He presses his lips together as if genuinely thinking about it. “Avocado,” he finally answers.
“Favorite fruit?”
“Pineapple.”
“What about pasta shapes?”
“Definitely farfalle.”
I continue asking him questions, and he continues to answer them with all the seriousness in the world. Keeping track of his answers, I start on the bowl, planning to fill the bottom and sides with all his favorite foods, making sure to add a Snickers bar somewhere in there.
“Fall semester starts next week,” I say out of the blue after a small lull in the conversation. My gaze is on the pineapple I’m painting but I feel Ozzy shift beside me.
“You excited?” His tone feels casual but forced and I pretend not to notice.
“I guess … except a lot has changed since last year. I’m not sure how I feel about it to be honest,” I say, a little lost in thought. “Plus, that also means I won’t be working at Orso as much, probably just once or twice a week.”
I keep my eyes down, avoiding Ozzy’s gaze because I don't know how to tell him what I’m feeling inside. That just because summer is ending, it doesn’t mean that whatever is going on between us needs to end too. That I want to find time for him, that Orso isn’t the glue that holds us together.
I’m not even sure why I’m having trouble telling him this, but I lack the words to explain my feelings and end up keeping it all to myself.
Before we leave the café hours later, I sneakily take a picture of our finished bowl, his tattooed hand and arm clearly in the background of the image, and post it online, my heart beating hard in my chest at the subtle implication.
36
OZZY
There’s a knock at the door and my heart skips a beat. James and I have been seeing each other for over a month now, and it still seems like I haven’t gotten over the nervous jitters of being around her.
When I realized earlier this week that she only had a week left before college started again, I suggested a nice dinner at my place to celebrate the end of summer. I didn’t call it a date.
