Page 10 of Back to Me

“I couldn’t help it,” he shrugs. “I needed a distraction. Plus, I wanted to see you first.”

My heart immediately drops to the bottom of my stomach. There he goes again, saying things he doesn’t really mean. As if seeing me was the first thing on his mind. It’s one thing to be in love with someone who loves you in return, it’s another to be in love with someone who says all the right things but doesn’t love you. It takes a moment for the feeling from Graham’s words to pass. I’ve learned to train myself in the art of letting his words go, understanding there’s never any hidden meaning.

“Usually you paint though. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you bake.” I laugh, attempting to rid myself of the feeling he gives me.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want to get caught up in creating something and lose track of time.” He grins. “Painting is just as messy as baking.”

“I see your point.”

Graham takes the last bite of his cookie, and I place my half eaten one back onto the plate, clearing my throat. “Well, I think I’ve stood around long enough in this towel. I have to leave for work soon.”

“Hey, have you talked to your boss about displaying one of your pieces at one of her showings?”

“Yeah, I asked her a few weeks ago. She said she really doesn’t think my artwork would be cohesive enough to be displayed with hers.” I sigh. “She thinks my pieces are too different from hers.” Disappointment washes over me, realizing I’ll probably never succeed with my art despite earning a bachelor’s degree in Fine Arts.

“That’s bullshit,” he scoffs. “What does that have to do with anything? You’re an amazing artist, Sara.” He finishes chewing his cookie. Parting his lips with his tongue, he swipes a dot of melted chocolate from the corner of his mouth. “Maybe you could ask her again.”

Appeasing him, I give him a small smile. “Maybe.” I take a deep breath and release it. “You should go and get ready.”

“Yeah, I guess I should,” he nods and breathes in a deep sigh. “Also, I need to buy a new phone before my meeting.”

I can tell he’s nervous about this meeting. Knowing Graham’s talent, he has nothing to worry about or else he wouldn’t have been offered this opportunity.

Wrapping my arms around his waist, I pull his body against mine. He hesitates, his arms hovering above my shoulders. He releases a heavy breath and lowers his arms, tightening them around me. His shirt smells like brown sugar, and the scent of it combined with Graham causes my heart to beat into overdrive. I attempt to calm my nerves and pull away, just enough to look up at his face.

“You’re going to be great.”

His eyes search my face. “Thank you,” he whispers.

When I pull away from Graham, I feel my towel loosen around my chest. It opens, and goosebumps rise along my skin as the fabric slides against my bare body, feeling the cool air wash over me. Realizing what’s happening, I reach down, scrambling to catch it before it falls to the floor.

“Shit. I’m sorry.” Catching it at my waist, I quickly turn around and cover my chest, making sure to stuff the end of the towel in tighter. Heat rises in my cheeks, embarrassed and unsure of how much Graham had seen. Mortified, I bury my face in my hands, muttering a thousand apologies before gathering the courage to turn around and face him. But when I do, he’s no longer standing in the same spot where we had awkwardly hugged and the most embarrassing moment of my life had unfolded. Instead, his back is to me as he tentatively loads the dishwasher. He doesn’t face me, and I’m not sure what to say at this moment. Sensing he feels awkward for having seen me with naked, I swallow.

“I’m going to get ready for work. Good luck today.”

“Thanks,” he mutters.

He lifts the door to the dishwasher, closing it, never turning around to face me.

Keeping the towel pressed against my chest, I look down at my feet in humiliation and walk down the hallway to my room.

***

When I’m finally dressed for work, I muster up the courage to step out of my room and potentially face Graham. But when I walk out into the main living area, the apartment is quiet aside from the humming of the running dishwasher.

Embarrassment still lingers in my bones, thinking about how he had seen me partially naked. The embarrassment is soon washed out with disappointment. Disappointment with the way he reacted to seeing me. Once again, he had turned his back, unwilling to even look at me.

It feels as if I’ve seen a lot of Graham’s back lately.

I erase the feeling on my way to work, determined to make this a good day.

Opening the large glass door to the gallery, I walk in with confidence, making sure to display my biggest smile. The small office building is a wide-open space, the only furniture my desk and a white, tufted couch set in the center of the floor. Paintings done by my boss and famous Dallas artist, Allison Newbury, line the white walls of the small uptown gallery.

Setting my purse down on my desk, I remove my blazer, draping it across the back of my chair. I’m checking my messages when the sound of Allison’s heels echoes across the glass tile floor. She hasn’t even made it to my desk before she starts talking to me.

“There you are, Sara. Did you get the messages I left on your desk?” she yells.

I hold up the few post-it notes left beside my computer. “I was just checking them.”

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