dash

The next morning, I wake on my own for the first time in I’m not sure how long. The quiet in my apartment is something I’d prayed to wake to more times than I can count, but the reasoning behind it makes me release a low sigh of annoyance instead of relief.

I glance over to find Evie still sleeping soundly beside me, her soft breaths calling to me, begging me to pull her closer. I resist, but just barely. The exhaustion is clear in her face, her eyes still puffy from crying after everything that happened with Mason the night before.

God, he was such a dick to her.

She wouldn’t tell me everything, but she told me enough for me to know he’d broken her heart.

How’s that for irony?

He’s so worried I’m going to hurt her that he’s torn her apart instead.

I swallow the venom in my chest the memory leaves me with and return my focus to her, my eyes tracing the waves of blonde splayed over her skin. Her olive complexion is free of makeup, the freckles over the bridge of her nose more visible, somehow making her seem even more vulnerable. She begins to stir gently, her lips parting slightly, a low sigh leaving her chest. I’m sure she’s falling back to sleep until she rolls over and presses herself close, nuzzling into my chest.

“It’s creepy as hell when you watch me sleep,” she whispers, reaching for my arm to pull it around her waist.

“I thought girls liked shit like that,” I smirk, pressing my lips to her hair.

“Well, I don’t know what kind of girls you’re used to hanging around with,” she starts, one eye opening slightly for her to give me a sideways glance. “Don’t answer that,” she warns playfully before nuzzling herself back into me and shutting her eyes once more. “But I ain’t about it, baby.”

“Sorry,” I chuckle, resting my palm low on her stomach. “I didn’t want to wake you up. I know you’re tired.”

“Thanks,” she yawns before glancing back up at me. “What time is it?”

“Not sure,” I admit as I raise slightly to check my phone and fall back in beside her, finding her eyes when she turns to face me. “Almost eleven.”

“I don’t think I’ve slept this late since I was fourteen,” she yawns again as I wrap the arm she’s resting on around her shoulders and pull her back into my chest, the other resting lazily on her waist.

“You needed it, babe,” I kiss her temple. “Do you have anything planned for the day?” I ask, prompting her to shake her head. “You could probably use a little more rest. Go back to sleep if you want.”

“I don’t think I can,” she admits with a sigh after a second before she glances up at me. “Thanks for letting me stay with you,” she whispers. “I’m not sure if I said it last night or not.”

“Oh, shut up,” I kiss her hair again, my palm tracing the cheek of her ass as I feel her lips turning up against my neck.

“Well, bite me then,” she whispers, making me chuckle. “You can’t complain about me being mean if you don’t appreciate it when I have manners.”

“That’s okay. I like you mean,” I admit as I lightly clamp my teeth onto her neck, tickling her skin with my beard. “Turns me on.”

“You’re stupid,” she snorts, her lips turning up against my skin.

“Yeah, baby,” I husk suggestively. “Give it to daddy how he likes it.”

“Eww…” she groans against my chest, making me laugh.   

The room resumes its silence and I think she’s falling back to sleep. After a few minutes, though, she releases another low sigh and I glance down to see her staring ahead, lost in her thoughts.

“I know I’ve been telling you to shut up for most of your life, but I think I kind of hate it when you actually listen to me,” I admit, pulling her eyes to mine. “I wish you’d talk to me, Evie.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she insists, nuzzling even deeper into my chest. “I pretty much told you everything last night.”

“You told me about what happened to Mason,” I agree. “You haven’t said a word about anything else.”

“Just because there’s nothing else to talk about.”

“What about New York?” I say quietly, feeling her freeze against me. I give her a minute to respond, but when she doesn’t, I break the silence. “Baby, I know you’re scared, but you have to go.”

“Why?” she asks, raising up on her elbow to meet my eyes. “Why do I have to go to New York?”

“Evie, you can’t…” I trail off, shaking my head in frustration when the words get stuck in my chest.

“I can’t what?” she presses. I hesitate and she notices, her own frustration seeping into her features. “Just say what you want to say, Dash. Tell me what I can’t do.”

“You can’t give up a job for me, Evie,” I blurt, making her shake her head.

“First of all, that decision isn’t up to you,” she starts, sitting upright and twisting to face me. “Second of all, who even said it was about you?”

“You did!” I insist. “You told your brother yesterday the reason you didn’t sign that contract was because of me!”

“Don’t twist my words, Dash.”

“I’m not twisting anything, baby. You said…”

“I know what I said,” she cuts me off, raising her eyebrow. “I said you were part of the reason I hadn’t signed it yet, but you’re not the only thing holding me back.”

“Evie, I shouldn’t be any of the reason,” I sigh, shaking my head when she rolls her eyes and tosses the covers away, moving toward the bathroom.

“Again. Not your decision, so there’s nothing to talk about,” she calls out, closing the door loudly behind her.

So much for a silent apartment.

“Baby,” I sigh, pulling myself from the sheets and moving toward the doorframe, speaking loudly enough for her to hear me over the sink. “I know it’s not my decision, but I think I still get a say in this, don’t I?”

“Not really,” she says, thrusting the door open and looking up at me. “I mean, yeah, I get what you’re saying. You don’t want to be responsible for me giving up some amazing job that could transform the entire path of my career, right?”

“Right.”

“Okay, noted,” she shrugs as she folds her arms over her chest. “Dash, I’ve been in school for almost four years and painting since I was old enough to hold a brush and reach an easel. Art is my entire life. It’s pretty much the only thing people ever ask me about. I’m asked about my inspiration, what types of brushes I use, what I’d do if I lost both of my arms,” she makes a face, forcing me to hide a smirk. “In the past year alone, I’ve been asked every question you can imagine save for one and how’s this for irony? It’s the only one that I care about answering.”

“What’s that?”

“‘What do you want to do after you graduate, Evie?’” she says sadly. “No one else is busting their ass to do this. No one else will have to sign a contract, relocate their entire life or lock themselves into a position for a minimum of two years for a salary that won’t sustain them in a city like that. Dash, I am legitimately the only person who has to actually live with this decision and no one has even asked me if I even want it. Not you, not my family, not my friends, not my professors.” I take her in, consider her words as she shakes her head and gives me a shrug. “So, yeah. I got a job offer in New York at a huge gallery. It’s a great opportunity, one I’m lucky to even be considered for, let alone offered right out of school. And yes, I’d be crazy to pass it up. I told Mason and my mom it was my top choice, but guess what?”

“What?”

“I was lying!” she admits. “And I hated it, but I only said it because they worry about me all the time. It’s what they wanted to hear, Dash, so I said it. Do I regret it? Yeah, but I can’t change what I said now. Now, I just have to either do what everyone else wants me to do or deal with their disappointment when I tell them the truth.”

“What is the truth?” I ask, pulling her eyes to mine. She begins chewing her lip in silent deliberation and I know the words waiting to slip out are ones she’s never spoken before. “Don’t be scared, Evie, just tell me.”

“I’m not scared to tell you anything, Dash,” she sighs, her blunt words warming my chest. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“Nothing,” she shrugs. “The truth just doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Of course it does,” I argue, reaching for her elbow when she starts to step away from me. “Tell me.”

She chews on her lip once more, glancing up at me before she finally lets out a small sigh.

“The truth is that I don’t want to sign because yes, it would take me away from you, but it would also take me away from my family, away from my home, everything I’ve ever known. I’d be somewhere I know nothing about, which is exciting in theory, but where’s the adventure in it if I’d be living in a shitty apartment with no money and doing the same thing every day? I’d see amazing art, even get to work on some eventually, but it would be months, maybe more than a year before I got to hold a brush again. Do you have any idea what kind of panic just the thought of not painting for a year puts me in?” she asks, her eyes soft with sadness, defeat. “I haven’t painted in like four days and I already feel like I’m on the verge of a breakdown,” she shakes her head. “And as far as New York goes, yeah. I can paint in my downtime, but isn’t that still kind of a shit deal? I didn’t just bust my ass to pour my soul into a hobby, ya know?” she asks, pulling a nod from me. “That’s what would happen, though. With this job, best case scenario, I’d be the head artist’s gopher until I ranked up. Then, if and when I actually get the opportunity to paint, I’d be walking into every single piece knowing I have a limit. Some artists are amazing at that, it’s what drives them, but I’m just not one of them, Dash. That would be like asking you to… I don’t know… drive a Camry named Tabitha,” she explains, making me smile soft. “It’s a nice enough car and yeah, you could do it, but you already put your heart into Laura Sue. Tabitha’s just not the girl for you,” she sighs, leaning her head against the doorframe across from me. “And this may come as a surprise to you, but I kind of hate being told what to do.”

Her words make me chuckle, my chuckle makes her smirk and after a moment, her eyes settle back on mine.

“Well, when you put it all that way, I can see your point,” I admit, watching her eyes grow soft in appreciation. “So, what do you want to do, babe?”

She takes a few minutes to consider her words, measure her courage as she studies her fingernails. She’s nervous, of what I’m not sure, but I’m about to repeat my question when she finally finds her voice.

“When I first got to school, I used to spend my weekends checking out the city, just kind of wrapping myself up in local stuff,” she starts, pulling a nod from me. “One of places I fell in love with almost immediately was this gallery there…”

“In Austin?” I ask, my focus locked on her.

“Mhm,” she nods. “I kind of stumbled onto it one day while I was just walking around the city. It’s not a huge place, small enough in fact that I naively thought I’d fallen into some kind of hidden treasure,” she smirks. “Anyway, I loved it so much I went back and then I just kept going back every chance I got. It wasn’t too long before I started hearing it come up in conversations around campus and found out it’s one of the most exclusive local galleries in the city. They feature on an invite only basis and usually only consider very well-established local artists, but they announced a couple of years ago that they were looking for new blood, fresh faces with raw potential.”

“That sounds pretty cool.”

“Cool isn’t even the word for this place,” she argues blissfully. “The paintings in this gallery, Dash?” she shakes her head, her eyes floating off with her thoughts. “They’re fucking amazing. They’re the kind of paintings that take you somewhere else. The kind that make my fingers twitch for a brush, my brain go into overdrive. They’re edgy, maniacal, sensual, heartbreaking… they’re just,” she shakes her head once more, a low sigh leaving her chest. “Dash, they’re the kinds of pieces that made me fall in love with painting in the first place,” she admits. “The artists they feature are so incredible, I would freak out for this place to just hang something I painted for free, but anyone who gets their work featured at this place is automatically streamlined to be huge. Not just locally. The entire industry. I mean, it’s insane.”

As she speaks, her enthusiasm is palpable, her hands moving with animation and excitement. A strand of her hair falls over her shoulder as she glances down and I can’t help but brush it away, starving for another taste of the emotion pouring out of her. I’ve known this girl most my life, called her mine for months now and never, not once, have I seen her show this much passion over New York. When she talked about that job, she seemed exhausted already. When she speaks now, she seems alive in ways I’ve rarely seen not just in her, but in anyone.

She steals my breath.

“Anyway, I never told my family about it because even after they announced the new exhibit, it’s a pipe dream,” she continues, pulling my attention back to her. “It’s always felt so far out of my reach I never even considered it…”

“But?”

“Well, since I’m about to graduate, I’m required to do a thesis, but in our case, we also have to present a final kick-ass piece that will show who we’ve become as artists, what we’ve learned and how we’ve grown, ya know?” she asks, pulling a nod from me. “My professor is pretty awesome, maybe a little insane, but I love him. He’s got big ideas and huge expectations of his students. He’s done a lot to help bring attention to our program, pulling up all this interest from nearby studios, things like that. Well, we were all prepared to write a paper, submit a final piece just like everyone else that came before us, but right before we let out for break, he announced that he’d made a few changes to the way we’d be exhibiting our final pieces.”

“What does that mean for you?” I ask, still engrossed.

“Well, I still have to write a thesis,” she makes a face, pulling a chuckle from me. “It’s required for the degree, but for the final exhibit, he wants us to paint our last piece in real time,” she continues, making my eyes grow slightly wider. “Yeah, I told you. Dude’s insane. He’s gotta be shooting for tenure or something,” she rolls her eyes dramatically, making me smirk. “Anyway, a few of the smaller galleries always attend, but since he’s doing this big live thing, he’s been pushing the hell out of it and updating the list to get us pumped,” she continues. “Well, the morning I left to come home, he posted the new list and that one in Austin I just told you about? The one I’m completely in love with?” she meets my eyes, the shake to her voice returning. “They’re at the top of the list. They want one of us, Dash.”

Her reaction is nervous, wild, scared.

Something about it makes me fall for her all over again.

“Evie,” I whisper, my face shifting with a prideful smile. “Baby, they’re going to pick you.”

“I can’t think like that,” she shakes her head in doubt.

“How the hell else are you supposed to think, babe?”

“There are some insanely talented people that will be at that exhibit.”

“Yep and you’re one of them,” I shrug, smile still in place. “And they’re gonna pick you.”

“Dash,” she sighs, leaning her head against the frame of the bathroom door we’re still standing in front of. “I know you’re trying to be supportive, make me feel better, but you haven’t seen what these people can do.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s right, but you obviously have no idea how good you are, Evie,” I argue. “There’s somethin’ inside you that other people? They don’t have it. Even before I loved you, I could see that,” I admit, making her blush. “You with a brush in your hand, just watching you slip into that girl? That’s a fuckin’ calling if I ever saw one, baby. The passion that hits you when you see that canvas is a work of art all by itself. You let them see what you can do when you actually start painting something on it? There’s no way in hell they won’t pick you.”

“Dash,” she sniffs, swallowing hard before her teary gaze locks back onto mine, pulling me closer. “What if they don’t?”

“Baby,” I whisper, tracing her lips with my thumb as my eyes dance in excitement for my girl. “What if they do?”

“They…”

“Evie,” I cut her off, staring into her. “What. If. They. Do?”

“It’s totally unstable,” she argues through veiled excitement. “I’d still have to move, it’s all commission, there’s no contract to protect me if I get it…” she shakes her head, wiping her cheek clean before returning her eyes to mine. “My mom and Mason would never go for it.”

“Who fuckin’ cares?” I shrug, my eyebrows quirking together. “Evie, this is your dream, right? The thing that would make you most happy?”

She thinks, studying me before swallowing hard.

“Yes.”

“Then you take it. The whole world could be yours, baby, but you’ve got to seize that motherfucker and do it fearlessly. You tell your mom what you told me and she’ll support you. If Mason can’t? Then fuck him,” I say bluntly, my voice low. “You’ve gotta live your life for you, Evie. Fuck anyone that doesn’t support you doing what’s gonna make you happy.”

She considers my words, going quiet as she gets lost in her thoughts, same as she’d been doing ever since she showed up on my doorstep last night. After a few moments, she clears her throats and glances back up at me.

“So, what about you, Dash?” she asks nervously. “Would you support that?”

The vulnerable way she gazes up at me, shifting to her other foot as she bites down on her lower lip, tugs at something deep inside my chest. I consider her question, really think about what it would mean to fully support her choice.

Although we’ve made it work over the last four months, there’s no way we could maintain our relationship long distance forever. Sure, we could manage for a little while, but if I want to stay with Evie, her taking a job anywhere outside of our hometown would mean me going with her.

I hold back the cringe that comes with the idea of living in the city.

I’m a small town guy.

I hate traffic. I hate the shitty chain bars and the obnoxious crowds that line up for the watered-down drinks inside them. I hate the idea of trendy, pretentious art shows with the goofy little trays being passed around to people in overpriced suits.

But I love Evie.

I love her in ways I didn’t know I could love.

I’d be lying if I said this new part of our relationship has come easy, in this moment that simply doesn’t matter.

In fact, my irrational fears are the last thing on my mind.

Instead, I focus on the way her blonde hair falls over her collarbone, the low hum her sigh pulls from my chest. The thought of her name on my lips, the way I crave her taste, want to drown in her laughter…

For the first time since I woke up next to her in that hotel room, I do exactly what I’ve been telling her to do for months.

I let go.

“Absolutely,” I whisper, surprised at how easy the words slip past my lips. “Without question.”