Page 19 of Painting Celia

“She wasn’t officially mine,” León continued. “We were just hooking up. But here came this tall, dark senior swooping in, and that was that.”

Trevor stirred his drink. “He stole a boyfriend from me once.”

“Ah, come on,” Andrew broke in. “I never actually stole anyone. People, they go where they want.”

“Anyway,” León said, “he was so nice about it, we just became friends.” He looked around the table. “I suppose he’s dated all of you at some time?”

A laugh went around as everyone turned to Celia, who raised her hand diffidently.

“Just me,” she said.

Kelsey leaned closer to León. “Did you ever date Andrew?”

León shook his head. “Not my type,” he said. “Plus, my dad would have killed me. Machismo, you know.”

Trevor nodded. “I hear that.” He hitched a thumb at himself. “Mormon.”

Kelsey sat up straight and grabbed at her phone. “Trevor, that reminds me, I need to show you this.” She was scrolling as soon as the screen lit up. “Celia, will you switch seats?”

Silently, Celia stood. Kelsey switched to the far chair, leaving Celia to sit next to León.

“Now I can see you,” León said.

She hesitated, then sat wordlessly as León picked up his glass. He shook it, surprised to find only ice.

Celia pushed her glass to him. “I didn’t drink any.”

León accepted it. Gin wasn’t that bad, actually.

Andrew stood partway, peering at the dim bar. “Hold up, I know that woman over there. Be right back.” On his way past, he leaned down to plant a kiss on Celia’s head. “Talk a little, girl.”

“Girl,” she muttered. “I’m two years older.”

León watched her sigh, then sit taller in her chair. Look at her, bracing to follow instructions.

Why was she so reluctant to unbend? She couldn’t just enjoy time with friends? He didn’t feel like it either, but he’d made an effort. What was her story?

The sunny luster of the lamp hit her cheekbones as she lifted her chin, tension faintly cording her neck. A server walked briskly past their table, leaving tendrils of her hair fluttering in the breeze. A composition started blooming in the back of his mind.

“Andrew says,” she began, then halted. Her napkin wasn’t aligned to the edge of the table and apparently needed fixing.

León waited, eyebrows raised. A charming smile to help her relax. A sip of the drink to show he was relaxed too.

She looked up. “He says you’re just thinking of paintings when you stare at me. At people.”

He sputtered but avoided choking on his drink.

“Yeah,” he said, dabbing around with his own napkin. “Sometimes. Sorry. I don’t mean to stare.”

It was hard not seeing paintings in this dramatic light, though. The gold brought out those bronze tones in her skin.

She tucked her hair behind an ear, eyes lowering to the table. “If I accept your apology, will you stop looking so hard now?”

He laughed, turning his eyes up to the ceiling. Really? She was asking him to not look at her? Celia’s relieved breath was faint but audible confirmation.

His gaze wandered to Kelsey and Trevor, heads down over her phone, then to the chaotic, distant bar.

“Hell,” he said, leaning in, eyes still averted. “Look at Andrew over there.” He felt her turn in her chair.

---