Page 10 of Ready or Not
What exactly was I looking for?
Before my thoughts could spiral any further, the loud screeching of the approaching train interrupted our moment.
“Well,” I said, taking a step back to give her space, “looks like our chariot has arrived early.”
As the train came to a stop in front of us, its doors slid open and we stepped inside an empty cart—save for another person sitting in the corner engrossed in a book. Solène found an empty seat by the window, and I sat down next to her.
“About those questions of yours,” I began, turning to face her as the train started moving. “I think I got a few to ask.”
6 /SOLÈNE
We talkedthe entire subway ride.
Seated by one another, we shared details about our childhood, our work lives, and personal hobbies… even seemingly trivial details that we felt held no importance—yet made the conversation intimate.
Even when we had to switch from the L to the 5, we didn’t miss a beat.
With each topic, I found myself opening up to him in a way that I hadn’t done before with a stranger. His easy smile and genuine interest in what I had to say put me at ease, despite the nerves that had been fluttering in my stomach ever since we first met at Elsie’s.
For once, I didn't feel the need to guard my heart or put up walls. Instead, I let myself just be vulnerable, letting the words flow freely without overthinking. It was strange how comfortable I felt with someone I had only just met, as if we had known each other for years. His presence was reassuring, and the way he listened, like really listened, made me feel heard in a way I didn’t know I needed.
In just a small amount of time, he achieved something that took my ex months to do.
“So let me get this straight,” he tried not to laugh, taking deep breaths to compose himself as my cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “You did what?”
I groaned and buried my face in my hands. “I thought my friends and I could fix the hole Nell’s sister made in the ceiling by painting on top of it! I was not gonna get my ass whooped for her not knowing the difference between the soft part and the hard part.”
“And this is why you don’t let seven-year-olds play hide and seek in the attic,” he took another deep breath, which resulted in him throwing his head back and laughing. I couldn’t help but join in.
“Okay, Mr. Art Director,” I groaned again, still laughing. “You can chill out now. Not everyone can be as artistic as you.”
“Just know that the next time I need a paint job done on set,” he said in between fits of laughter. “I’ll call you.”
I playfully elbowed him. “I’ll have you know my painting skills improved since then.”
“I’ll be the judge of it,” he said, still chuckling under his breath.”Gotta see it with my own eyes first.”
“I swear. I’ve gotten better and even painted my—” I paused, the memory of my ex flooding my mind, threatening to overshadow the warm moment Desi and I were having. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the unwelcome memories aside and smiled. “Enough about me, tell me about yourself.”
“Sensitive territory?”
My brows furrowed.
“If I summoned up something too painful to talk about, I apologize.”
“No, it’s not that. It’s just—” I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, biting my lip. My fingers began to play with the fabric of my dress as the train made another stop and the door slid open, letting out the only person who occupied the cart with us.
I took a moment to compose myself before meeting his gaze. “The last person whose place I painted—well, helped paint his room—was my ex.”
“Oh… I see how that could be a touchy subject. I ain’t mean to?—”
“He was bound to be brought up in conversation tonight, so I shrugged, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. “Might as well rip off the band-aid now, right?”
He took my hand into his, his thumb gently rubbing circles on the back of my hand. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Are you sure?”
