Brush Strokes Read online

  “Pffff, girl please. You are a hundred times prettier than Reagan and her zombie posse.”

  I self-consciously pulled at the ends of my plain brown hair that I hadn’t cut in years and probably should have because all it did was hang in waves down my back. Everyone always said I had nice eyes, but I always found them dull. They weren’t the bright, vibrant green of fresh grass or an emerald like I would have wanted. No, they were too pale to be beautiful. And I always hated the smattering of freckles across my nose that seemed to pop out more in the summer when I’d been in the sun too much.

  “Stop it,” Ella said, smacking my hand. “I know exactly what you’re thinking, and trust me you’re gorgeous. Guys always notice you. You just don’t notice them back.”

  I snorted, biting back my response of ‘you have to say that, you’re my best friend’ because I knew that would only piss her off more. The boys were both bent over the engine now. We watched them in rapt silence. It occurred to me that what we were doing was seriously creepy and probably illegal in most places, but I couldn’t seem to pull my eyes away.

  Suddenly Miley Cyrus’ voice filled my bedroom, her song Can’t Stop blaring. I looked around frantically like an atom bomb was about to go off as Ella walked calmly over to her purse and pulled out her phone. She looked over at my stunned face.

  “Don’t judge me,” she said, swiping her finger across the screen to answer it. “Hello?”

  I turned back to the window, ignoring her as she spoke to whoever was on the other end. I didn’t even have a phone. Why bother when there was no one to call you? Ella and I would talk whenever I got the chance to use the communal phone in the dorm. Other than that, we always spoke online. My eyes sought Colt again, meeting those silver orbs head on.

  “Shit,” I cursed, flying backwards away from the window. I crouched on the floor, frozen, like if I just didn’t move it would make the situation better. Ella had stopped talking, looking at me with a strange face.

  “Yeah, I’m still here,” she said into the phone. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll meet you girls there around ten. Oh, and I’ll probably be bringing a friend,” she said with a mischievous smile at me. “No, not a guy. Don’t worry about it. See you there.” Her phone clicked as she hung up.

  “Miley Cyrus? Seriously?”

  “At least I’m not the one hiding on her bedroom floor. What the hell are you doing?”

  I stood up, feeling really stupid. “I think he saw me looking at him.”

  Ella laughed loudly, tossing her phone back into her purse. “That’s awesome.”

  “Not it’s not!”

  “I’m sure he didn’t actually see you. The sun reflects off the windows so you can’t see in. Plus, we’re on the second floor, there’s no way he could see you all the way up here.”

  “But he was looking right at me,” I argued.

  “Probably just a coincidence.”

  I prayed she was right. I watched as she walked back over to the window and looked down.

  “They’re both just working on that damn car.” She turned, her face lit up. “Guess who that was on the phone.”

  “I give up,” I said, walking over to my vanity to grab a hair tie. I swept my hair up into a messy bun and flopped down across my bed on my stomach so I could still look at her.

  “You didn’t even guess.”

  I shrugged.

  “Fine. You suck. It was Jennifer,” she announced.

  “Yay.” I couldn’t make my voice any drier if I tried.

  “She just told me that there is a party tonight! And we are totally going!” She jumped up and down, clapping her hands.

  “There is no way I’m going to a party tonight.”

  “Oh yes you are,” she said in her ‘don’t argue with me’ voice. Walking over to my closet, she instantly started throwing outfits onto the bed beside me. “You’re going because it’s going to be at Colt’s house.” She turned around to give me a smirk. “Operation ‘Make the Bad Boys Notice Us’ is in full effect.”

  Colt’s? There was no way I could just show up at his house for a party. I told her this.

  “Of course you can, don’t be ridiculous. He has these parties all the time, and anyone can show up. It’s not like an invite only type thing. And plus, you live next door. Why wouldn’t you go?”

  There were a million reasons but I doubted she was willing to listen to any of them. She walked over to stand in front of me, hands on her hips again.

  “We are going to this party, Olivia Banks, no excuses. This is the summer before our senior year and we’re going to enjoy the hell out of it.”

  “Can’t we just go out for ice cream?” I moaned.

  “No, no we can’t. Now go take a shower while I pick out an outfit. Then we’re doing your makeup!”

  I buried my face in my comforter. She wanted to do my makeup. It was official, I was going to this party and there was no way Ella would let me back out of it. Especially if she was already planning on painting my face. And here I thought I was the artist. Just kill me now.

  Two

  The aim of art is to represent not the outward appearance of things, but of their inward significance – Aristotle.

  Colt

  It was too damn hot to be outside. Sweat ran down the middle of my neck and back. Rannon was hunched over the engine, tightening the bolts on the new alternator. I took a long swig of my water, stepping back to take a quick break. It had to be the hottest day of the summer so far.

  Placing the water back in the shade of the garage, I took a second to glance up at her window. It was something I did often and I had no idea why. Olivia Banks – the girl next door. The one girl who never seemed the least bit interested in me. I never had problems attracting girls, but the girl with the dark hair and pale eyes was completely oblivious to whatever charms other girls saw in me. She had moved away a couple of years ago and I hadn’t seen her since. Her parents still lived there, so I figured she’d be back around Christmas and Thanksgiving. No luck. It had only taken me about six months of not catching glimpses of her, either in the halls at school or outside our houses, to make me realize I’d messed up by not trying to talk to her more.

  She just seemed so quiet and shy. She kept her hair forward, always hiding behind the thick curtain of it, those green eyes focused on the ground in front of her. The black sketchpad that was her constant companion always held protectively against her chest. There was just something about her though. I noticed it when I first moved here, even at the young age of eleven. I’d just never worked up the nerve to do anything about it.

  Her best friend, Bella…Lila…shit, what was her name? Ella? Yeah, Ella. She started hanging out with Reagan and the rest of those girls after Olivia disappeared. Countless times I’d tried to work up the nerve to ask her where Olivia had gone, but I’d never done it. Not that I was chicken, because shit, she was just a girl and girls I can handle, but because it would probably seem weird, me asking about her. I was a random guy to them.

  “Looking for your Juliet, Romeo?” Rannon snickered behind me. I turned around and gave him a good punch in his shoulder. He cried out, holding onto it. “Ouch, dude! Keep those boney knuckles away from my delicate skin.”

  I snorted, walking back to my baby. This thing needed more work than I’d thought, but when it was done…man it was going to be the sickest car in the neighbourhood.

  “Seriously, bro. How many times you going to stare at that girl’s house like that?”

  I looked up, both eyebrows raised. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. “I was checking the sky to see if there are any clouds coming in this way.”

  “Sure bud. Keep telling yourself that. You’ve had it bad for that girl since we were in grade six and she was in grade five.”

  Rannon and I were a year older than her, but thanks to our stellar academic skills, both of us were held back a year in grade nine. I thought that would have meant I’d have classes with Olivia since we’d ended up in t
he same year, but I never did. At least, I didn’t think I had. I shook my head. It was quite possible I had and just never went to that class. Man I was such an idiot.

  “I don’t have it bad for anyone, Ran. I’ve never even talked to that girl before.”

  “Yeah, but you make googly eyes at her anytime we see her.”

  I stood up straight. “Googly eyes? What the fuck is that anyway?”

  Rannon laughed, both hands up in defense like I was going to punch him again. I was pretty damn close.

  “You know, you get this stupid look in your eyes like you just want to grab her and kiss her,” he said, jumping from foot to foot like a boxer.

  I did. Every. Damn. Time. “You’re nuts. I don’t have feelings for her. She’s been gone for two years, who knows what she looks like now.”

  “Probably hotter,” he said.

  “Maybe not though,” I countered. He shrugged, finally dropping his hands.

  “We should have a party here tonight. How late is your mom working?”

  “She’s working the double shift,” I answered, tightening a bolt. The benefit of a mom who’s a nurse, besides being stitched up without having to go to the hospital after a bad fight, was the fact that they worked shift work. It left a lot of alone time for a teenager with a penchant for trouble. “A party sounds like an excellent idea.”

  “Good, because I already started telling people,” he said with a grin. Figures. Rannon was on his cell in a second calling more people. I stretched out the kink in my back from leaning over the car for so long, and tried to wipe as much grease off my hands as I could. I looked down at my filthy body and decided a shower was in order before any partying began.

  “Afternoon boys,” Mr. Banks called out. I looked over the low chain-link fence separating my yard from theirs and waved once. Mr. Banks was a nice guy. A bit on the weird side, but most parents were. He always said hi if he saw me out, so that sort of made me like him. Despite my tattoos and piercing he still looked at me like I was a normal person. That was rare in these parts. Most of the people in my neighbourhood gave me a wide berth, especially when I had my shirt off and all my tats were on display.

  “Hey, Mr. Banks,” Rannon called out.

  “You boys look like you’re working hard,” he said, stepping up to the fence. I wasn’t sure how old he was, but I was guessing they’d had Olivia late in life because both of the Banks seemed older than most parents. His hair had turned completely white already, and his face was aged from too many years in the sun. He had green eyes like his daughter, but not nearly as pretty. Olivia had the kind of eyes that sucked you in. They were rimmed with thick eyelashes that made it possible for her not to have to wear make-up. Mr. Banks’ eyes were darker, more hazel.

  “We’re just tuning her up,” I said, slamming the hood down with a loud clank.

  “It’s nice to see you take up a hobby,” he said with a smile. God, he was just like my grandpa. “Much better than that skateboarding stuff you used to do.”

  I laughed, rubbing my collarbone where I had broken it once after trying a trick I was nowhere near talented enough to pull off. “Yeah, my mom put a stop to that years ago.”

  “Your mom’s a good lady,” he said.

  Yeah, tell my asshole father that.

  “She took good care of Wilma when she had a kidney infection.”

  I know, because you tell me almost every time I talk to you. I didn’t say that though, because you can’t be rude to Mr. Banks. It’s just wrong. I smiled instead.

  “She at work?” he asked.

  “She’s inside sleeping,” I answered. “She works later.”

  “Well you tell her to have a good night, and you boys do the same.”

  “We will, sir,” Rannon said with a grin.

  The front door to their house opened and that Ella girl came rushing out.

  “Ella!” Mr. Banks called out happily.

  “Oh, hey, Mr. Banks,” she said, coming to a stop when she looked nervously at us. She quickly looked away, giving him a strained smile.

  “Where you off to?”

  “Just going to grab something from home. I’ll be back in a sec.”

  “Okay, dear. You drive carefully.”

  “I will,” she said, speed walking down the driveway to where a small, white Yaris was parked beside the curb. How had I not noticed that before? Wait. Why was Ella at their house? Instinctively I looked up at Olivia’s bedroom window. Was she home? There was no way, I would have seen her by now.

  “I should get in,” Mr. Banks was saying. I looked back at him, itching to ask him about his daughter but not wanting to sound creepy. “See you boys later.”

  “Bye, Mr. Banks,” we said together, watching him leave. Ella drove away just as I turned to look in her direction again.

  “Why was Ella Page at Olivia’s?” Rannon asked. I shrugged, turning to head inside.

  “I need to take a shower,” I called over my shoulder.

  “I’ll just keep calling around and setting things up.” I waved my hand over my head so he would know I’d heard him and headed inside.

  The water rejuvenated me. I stood under the hot stream for a good twenty minutes before shutting it off. Rannon was sitting in my living room playing Black Ops when I walked out. I flopped down next to him, grabbing the other controller. We played for a couple of hours until my mom came down, already dressed in her scrubs.

  “You two eat?” she asked as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail.

  “No ma’am,” Rannon answered. My mom was the only person I knew my best friend to be extra polite to.

  “I’ll whip something up for you before I leave,” she said, walking into the kitchen. At nine she started to lace up the plain, white running shoes all the nurses wore. “What are you boys up to tonight?”

  “Just going to hang out and play video games,” Rannon said.

  “Okay. You stay out of trouble, you hear?” We both nodded obediently. “I’m going to get on the road so I’m not late.” She walked over and leaned down to kiss me on the head. Then did the same to Rannon.

  “Have a good night, mom,” I said just as she shut the door behind her. Rannon was up instantly, pulling out a large bottle of vodka from his backpack leaning against the sofa.

  “Time to get buzzed, my friend,” he declared.

  I got up and grabbed two shot glasses from the kitchen, returning to the sofa. I needed to get buzzed. It was the only time I felt free of worries. We both slammed back our shots. It burned down my throat in the familiar way I loved. Rannon filled the glasses up again. He held his out.

  “To a good night,” he said in cheers.

  “To a good night,” I echoed taking the shot.

  People started arriving right at ten. Reagan and her friends showed up wearing outfits even strippers would be embarrassed by. Thankfully I was already pretty buzzed. Reagan sauntered over to where I sat in the living room, swaying her hips exaggeratedly. She lowered herself onto my lap that I’d instantly made room on for her tiny ass. Her make-up was caked on, and she smelled like she’d showered in flowers, but I didn’t mind too much. She was good for a distraction.

  “Hey, Colt,” she practically purred.

  “Hey, Reagan,” I replied, smiling crookedly. Oh yeah, I was drunk. My words even sounded slurred to me. “You’re looking mighty pretty tonight.”

  She giggled, leaning into me so her breasts pressed against my chest. I could feel her hardened nipples through the thin fabric. My shirt had gotten lost at some point before people arrived. I knew I had put one on after my shower, but couldn’t for the life of me remember what the hell I’d done with it since.

  She brought her lips to my ear, her hot breath fanning across it. “Want to go somewhere a bit more private?” Did I? Eh, why not?

  “My bedroom,” I said. She hopped off my lap and waited as I stood, following me as I led the way. The music blared as I walked by the speakers, fading as I made my way to my bedroom at the back of
the house. It used to be my father’s office, but once he’d moved out my mom had let me change it into my bedroom. I liked being on a different floor than her, for precisely this reason. She never knew when I snuck girls in and I wanted to keep it that way.

  As soon as I shut the door behind us she was on me. Her mouth covered mine, sloppily. I grabbed her face, forcing her to slow down and follow my lead. She was using too much tongue, and her lips were rough and chapped against mine. It was a horrible kiss. I backed her up to my bed, following her down so my body covered hers.

  “Colt,” she moaned as I moved down her neck. Her hands grabbed at my hair, pulling tightly. “I want you inside me,” she said, forcing my head away from her. Already? What happened to foreplay?

  “Okay,” I said, somewhat confused. This wasn’t as hot as I hoped it would be. I reached out for my night table, searching the drawer for a condom. Shit. There were none.

  “I need to get a condom,” I said, pushing myself up. “Stay here.”

  “Okay,” she replied, posing herself in what I assumed she thought was a sexy pose. She looked ridiculous. “Hurry back.”

  Ugh. I was definitely going to take my time finding that condom. I should have known this was a bad idea. There was no one Reagan liked more than herself. The only reason she was interested in me was because I was the ‘hot bad boy’. I was stupid. I knew what all these girls wanted. One night with the infamous Colt Morgan – bad boy extraordinaire. I walked out of the room without replying.

  I was so sick of this shit.

  Three

  The purpose of art is washing the dust of daily life off our souls – Pablo Picasso

  Olivia

  Old paintings of mine hung around the full length mirror in my bedroom. I looked at them, wishing with every bone in my body that I could just stay home and paint instead of going next door. For the last two hours my hands hadn’t stopped sweating, and my stomach kept doing this nervous rolling thing that was starting to make me feel sick. Painting was the only thing that calmed me down. It released any tension or anxiety I felt. Took me out of this world and transported me to wherever and whenever I chose. It was my escape.