Becoming His Muse, Part Three Read online

  “Wow, Warren. You’ve grown.” Oh man, did I say that out loud? I sound just like our mothers. “Uh, I mean. You look great.” I blush and fumble with my words.

  “You, too,” he says casually as he leans down to give me a hug. He smells soapy and clean. His broad shoulders around me make me feel like a small doll. This boy-next-door who’s always felt so brotherly to me, like a younger brother in fact, is now making me feel as if I’m climbing up the first big hill of a roller coaster.

  I step back, shove my hands into the kangaroo pouch of my hoodie, and think of Logan back at school writing, missing me. I miss him, too, but the world of school and the world of home suddenly seem like two different planets.

  “Rita!” bellows my father. “Bring us some beers.”

  As if a switch has been flicked my mother puts down her wine glass, smiles, and turns toward the fridge.

  “Mrs. Nichols, let me,” says Warren, beating her to the fridge in two strides.

  “Oh, how nice of you,” says my mother, beaming at him.

  “The least I can do,” he says politely. “Thanks for having us over.”

  I watch him grab the bottles and nestle them in a bucket my mother has filled with ice. He moves awkwardly, as if he still isn’t comfortable in his own skin, but what nice skin it is. And hair, and teeth, and smile. Gosh, this is boring old Warren Simmonds? I grab another handful of chips. I will not let my mother catch me gawking. But she sees my chip grab and as soon as Warren leaves with the beers she tucks the bowl into a cupboard, out of sight and out of reach.

  “Why don’t you go in and watch the game?” says my mom.

  I stare at her. I stopped watching football with my dad years ago, once I realized I didn’t want to be Daddy’s Girl anymore.

  “At least keep Warren company,” says Caroline with a slight plead in her voice. “You know how he hates sports.” She whispers it like it’s a horrible secret. I guess around Thanksgiving it is. And I’m just getting the hint that my mom and Caroline want a bit of privacy to talk. That’s fine by me. If I pick a good seat in the den, maybe I can secretly study Warren’s mysterious transformation.

  After watching a few downs, Warren leans over the gap between our chairs. He nearly knocks the lamp off the small table next to him.

  “How’s the art world?“ he whispers.

  “The college art world is fine. As for the real world, I know little of that. How’s business at MIT?”

  “Hey,” barks my dad. “Keep it down. We can’t hear the announcer.”

  I roll my eyes, knowing full well he can hear the announcer because the volume’s up so loud. What he means is that’s all he wants to hear. To our mothers we might be show dogs but to our fathers we are just props or set decoration, proof of progeny that further defines their success, but better seen and not heard.

  Warren leans a little closer so he can whisper a little quieter. I like the way his arms slope over his knees and how he looks up sideways through his eyelashes as if we’re conspiring.

  “I told some friends I’d meet them later. Want to come?”

  Warren has friends? And he’s inviting me to tag along? The tables have definitely turned.

  Not even three hours has passed since I’ve arrived home and I already need to get a breather. If Warren is providing it, who am I to complain?

  “Sure, why not?”

  “Really? You’ll come?” His surprised smile harks back to earlier days of nerdiness and I can tell he’s hardly aware of his recent transformation and of the potential power it holds over the opposite sex.

  “Let me put on some jeans first,” I say. “Give me ten minutes.”

  “Take your time,” he says, staring in confounded admiration—of me or himself I’m not quite sure.

  I make an effort to dress casually chic this time, even spritz on a bit of vanilla perfume. As I grab my purse I feel a tiny vibration within the pocket. Looking at my phone I see that I’ve missed six texts from Logan. Oops. The last one reads,

  You’re silence has forced me to start drinking. Consider yourself responsible for the outcome.

  That text came through almost an hour ago. Who knows what shape he’s in by now.

  I text back.

  I’m here. Just got busy visiting with family. You should be writing rather than drinking. It’s better for your liver.

  No reply. I frown at my phone for a few moments. Is he okay? Still no reply. Well, he’s a grown man and he needs this weekend to write. I shoulder my purse and head downstairs where Warren is waiting.

  Chapter Four

  An hour and a beer or two later, Warren has filled me in on his school work and potential prospects after graduation and I’ve shared my college news with him (omitting anything to do with Logan because I can’t risk him saying anything to his mom that might get back to mine, or so I tell myself).

  “I wish my cousin Tess could see you now,” I say, feeling my tongue moving rather thickly in my mouth.

  “Really, why?”

  “Well, you’re… You’re all growed up Mr. L. Warren Simmonds.” I hold up my beer bottle to toast this surprising and delicious fact and then I take a sip, but I have to tip the bottle way back because it’s almost empty and that was the last sip and I just can’t believe it. I wave to the bartender for another round but Warren’s still only halfway through his first and apparently I’m now on my third. What is wrong with me? Am I actually nervous with Warren? Well, he has seen me in diapers. And naked. I laugh out loud at the thought, and when I take my first sip of my third beer it seems I have little control over which thoughts stay thoughts and which become speech.

  “What’s so funny?” says Warren watching me giggle.

  “Oh, nothing, it’s just that you’ve seen my booty.” I snort-laugh and feel the beer attempt an escape out my nose.

  Warren grins and blushes and then he finishes off his beer. Thankfully, the bartender has sent over two more and Warren is now onto his second. I try to slow down so he can catch up.

  “I kind of forgot about that,” he admits. I think he’s going to make a flirty remark about needing an ‘update viewing’ but he doesn’t. I guess he’s too much a gentleman for that. Or maybe I haven’t rocked his world in quite the same way he’s rocked mine.

  “‘Course, I’ve seen you naked, too.” I say, and I daringly add, “But you were little then.”

  He gives me a sideways glance but does not take the bait.

  “Were you surprised, Ava?”

  “By what?”

  He looks away for a second, as if embarrassed.

  “You said Tess would be surprised to see me, but…” He looks into my eyes with a penetrating brown stare. “But were you.”

  I’m momentarily lost in his wide pupils swimming in their chocolate pools and he seems so serious all of a sudden, like my answer is of utmost significance. But I don’t want to be serious. I want to be playful. Warren used to be my playmate, after all. But I owe him honesty at least.

  “Yes. Happily surprised.” I offer up a sweet genuine smile and he looks relieved and more relaxed now.

  “Good,” he says, as if we’ve just agreed on something, and it hits me that Warren has no clue how to flirt. He’s not used to his good looks yet. He’s happy to have my approval, which he’d been sorely lacking through middle and high school. I feel so bad all of a sudden. I did nothing to bolster his confidence.

  He glances around the bar and then his eyes light up as he looks toward the door. I follow his gaze and see three people enter — two guys and a girl.

  “Your friends?”

  Warren’s waving now, answering my question with a gesture instead of a word.

  “I’m so glad they get to meet you,” he says.

  The guys are smiling as they approach our table. The girl not so much.

  “Lou, Darryl, Devina, meet Ava.”

  Warren seems oddly proud to introduce me but the girl, Devina, who looks half South Asian and very striking, does not look impressed
. At least she’s civil, offering me a tight smile and a limp-wristed shake of her hand before she sits delicately on the chair left for her after the two guys have slipped out of their jackets and slouched onto their seats.

  “So this is the girl-next-door?” says the one called Lou. He wears glasses and sports a goatee. He winks and nudges Warren who gives him a flushed warning glare.

  “Our families have been friends since we were babies,” Warren says by way of explanation. Perhaps for Devina’s benefit?

  “Yeah, they used to play in the garden naked as lambs,” says Darryl. “Over the years we’ve heard a lot about you, Ava.”

  Warren shoots a worried glance at Devina who seems rather cool. Is there something between them? Warren and I hadn’t ventured into that kind of conversation. Not yet. And maybe I shouldn’t have made assumptions about him flirting with me without asking a few questions first. Just in case he’s got a thing with, Devina, I nip the romantic insinuations in the bud.

  “We’ve known each other our whole lives. We’re practically brother and sister.”

  Lou frowns and Darryl scrunches up his nose. Clearly, they’d been imagining a different kind of relationship, but Devina smiles and slips out of her jacket.

  “What kind of beer are you drinking, Warren?” she says.

  “I’ll get you one.” He hops up and heads to the bar.

  “I’ll come,” says Devina, following him.

  I’m left sitting across from Lou and Darryl who are both staring at me.

  “So. Lou. Darryl. How are you?”

  Neither answers right away. They just stare at me so I take another swig of beer, feeling awkward.

  “It’s great to finally meet you,” says Lou finally.

  I nod and smile. “Yeah, you too.”

  Darryl shakes his head. “Warren probably never mentioned us.”

  “Sure he did…” Or not. Come to think about it, I don’t think I ever bothered to ask Warren about his friends.

  “In middle school you were always the princess,” said Lou.

  “Huh?”

  “In D and D, when we played, Warren went on and on about you. You were his princess. That’s why we’re so happy to finally meet you. You were like this imaginary goddess to us.”

  “I saw you for real once,” said Darryl seriously. “When I was at Warren’s and you were suntanning in your back yard. Yup.”

  I’m feeling super awkward now. And my third beer’s gone. Behind the guys, I see that Warren and Devina are heading back to the table now with drinks for everyone. I lean over the table and whisper,

  “So is there something between those two?”

  “Devi and Warren, nah,” says Darryl.

  “Hey dumbass, she’s been trying to get him to ask her out for weeks,” says Lou. “He’s just too simple to cotton on.”

  “Really?”

  Regardless of Warren’s outer transformation, it seems he might not have grown up as fast on the inside. His friends seem proof of that.

  Darryl looks at me. “Maybe it’s not that he’s too dumb to get the hint. Maybe he’s hoping for a different opportunity.”

  Devina and Warren are laughing as they place beer bottles in front of everyone.

  “Remember that all-nighter Settlers of Catan marathon?” says Devina, and Lou and Darryl light up and start making comments that make no sense to me. Warren also sets a glass of water in front of me.

  “I thought you might need that more than another beer, but I got you one of those, too.”

  He is kind of like a brother to me I realize. A nerdy, newly gorgeous big brother. So why this sudden need to flirt with him? Why do I want to draw him into some attraction when I’ve got Logan waiting for me?

  I look at Warren talking to Devina. They look cute together. She could be good for him. It hits me that Warren is tempting because he could make my life easier. Logan will never meet the approval of my parents, he’ll never fit into this part of my life, but Warren already does, and so I feel tempted to take the easy road, to slowly give in to my parents’ plans for my future because my own dreams, while clear, don’t have a map. I don’t even know if Logan is a part of those dreams, and I feel the burden of our secret affair weighing more heavily than before. We can’t go on forever as secret lovers, but I can’t imagine ever being able to be honest about our relationship. Warren is so innocent, so sweet, so parent-approved, but I can’t play with him like this.

  “I’m going to slip off to the little girls room. ‘Scuse me.”

  I’ve got to get my head on straight. Standing, I find moving in a straight line is not the easiest task but I roll with it, weaving as gracefully as I can toward the back of the bar.

  I tuck myself into the stall and pee the near equivalent of three beers, which gives me time to check my phone. There’s a message from Logan. When my heart skips, I realize what I really want, regardless of the complications. But his message takes me totally by surprise.

  I want a picture of your pussy for my desktop.

  Not the kind of text I expected to receive!

  Then I laugh. He must be drunk. And so am I. Why the fuck not? Though the lighting sucks in here. I dab up, position my phone far enough away from the rim of the toilet seat. I realize I’ll need to pull up my heels, and then … with a silent snap, voila. Ugh. Nope. Delete. I try a few more times but I just can’t do the part justice. I keep the best shot, throw on a few filters, and save it to my album. I text Logan back.

  I’ll paint you an abstract.

  After I’ve flushed, washed up, and added another layer of lip gloss, I feel my phone vibrate again.

  I wrote a chapter.

  I send him back a smiley face.

  Come home.

  I am home.

  I want to be your home.

  That’s the most serious and romantic thing he’s ever communicated to me. And I don’t believe it.

  I’ll be back in a few days.

  I can’t wait.

  You have to write without distractions.

  I can’t write without you.

  You just did.

  Not really. I imagined you here with me. I’d write better if you were here.

  “Ava?”

  Devina peeks around the corner of the bathroom door. “Are you all right?”

  I’m standing at the sink with my phone in my hand. I guess I’ve been gone long enough to worry about.

  “Yeah, good. Just got distracted.” I slip my phone back into my purse.

  “Hey, Devina?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Warren and I are just friends. Well, neighbours. Hardly even friends. Seems like we’re getting to know each other all over again.” I smile. “But I’m kind of with someone. That’s who I was texting.”

  She nods. “Since we’re confessing, I’ve known Warren since high school. I’ve had a crush on him since senior year. But you should know that he’s been in love with you since he was like five years old.”

  “No. I don’t think so.” I’m shaking my head and feeling the beer fuzz that comes from not keeping up a steady enough drinking pace.

  “It’s true. He’s told me himself. And meeting you, I can see why.”

  I shake my head again and am about to protest but she holds up a hand so that she can continue.

  “I know he’s got you on a pedestal. You’re like his ideal girl but you’re also real, and right next door. If you’re serious about this other guy, be up front with Warren. I don’t want to see him with a broken heart.”

  “We’re just—“

  “—We all see what we want to see. I’m just giving you a heads up.”

  “But aren’t you and he…?”

  “Maybe when he’s over you he’ll be able to see what’s right in front of his nose. Just let him down easy, okay?”

  She leaves then, doesn’t give me a chance to answer, not that I have anything in particular to say.

  My phone vibrates.

  Come home.

  I hit re
ply and attach my filtered photo. That should keep him busy for a while.

  Chapter Five

  The rest of the weekend I try to work up the courage to tell my parents about my desire to move to New York after graduation but I just can’t seem to do it. Obligingly, I look through the law school catalogues, but it must be obvious to my parents that my attempt is half-hearted. Before long I’m packing to take the train home and we’re all talking about how much fun Christmas will be in Vermont, where we’ll all gather at my grandfather’s chalet. I decide there’s no harm putting off breaking the news until Christmas. My parents can have their hopes for a few more weeks.

  My train is delayed due to bad weather and I don’t arrive at my dorm until after midnight. Even though I’m exhausted, I remember my promise to Dr. T to “pull out all the stops” so I force myself to get up early the next morning and go to the studio. Before long, I receive a text from Logan.

  Rich asked me to be your mentor. Fancy that. My first mentorship advice: get your sexy ass over here.

  I know I should finish my work in the studio first, but I can’t resist his demand. And I’m supposed to listen to my teacher, right? I clean my brushes as fast as I can and hightail it over to his office.

  “Well, Miss Nichols,” says Logan with polite formality as he opens the door. “Do come in. I’ve been studying your paintings, looking for the literary signs discovered by Dr. Tennenbaum. Very interesting…”

  He strokes his chin as if he has a beard, and then he closes the door behind me. And locks it.

  I raise one eyebrow. “Won’t that draw suspicion?”

  “The creative process is very personal, very private.” He slopes over to me. I see a bulge in his jeans already.

  “You missed me this weekend?” I say.

  “I missed you so much I started to hate you.”

  I grow worried at this statement.

  “However, that level of emotion compelled me to write some decent pages,” he adds.

  I sigh with relief, and say, “Good. That’s just what you needed.”

  He shakes his head and narrows his eyes at me. “You are a tease, Miss Nichols.” He drags me around his desk and stands me in front of his computer.