“Well, you should ask Grandma what whiskey is then.”

“I already did,” she responds matter-of-factly. “She says it’s the Lord’s blood.”

I snort. “Grandma’s a liar.” I begin opening cupboards and digging through boxes of food.

“I know.” She grins. “So what are you making? Or should I say…burning?”

“You know…for an eleven-year-old—”

“I’m almost twelve,” she interrupts.

“Whatever. For an almost twelve-year-old, you have quite the smart-mouth.”

“I prefer gifted.”

“I prefer it shut.”

She narrows her eyes at me and sticks her tongue out.

I opt for pizza delivery instead of cooking until I get to the grocery store again. And even then, I’ll probably grab frozen pizzas and boxes of mac ’n cheese.

Back in Ohio, there was this small family-owned deli and sushi bar that I always stopped at on my way home from work. But now that I have Natalia with me, I actually have to remind myself to hit the store.

Either that or I’m going to go broke from ordering in seven days a week.

CHAPTER THREE

ASPEN

I arrive at my night class early Thursday, knowing the room will be empty beforehand. I can paint in my apartment, but there’s just something about the atmosphere and being in a room filled with other paintings. I grab an easel and settle in with my ear buds while I paint.

Most recently, See You Again by Wiz Khalifa has hit home for me. I’ve had it on repeat for several days and every time I draw or paint, I’m able to tune everything out when I listen to it and think happy thoughts about her.

The lyrics inspire me to paint an abstract of her face. I use the entire canvas to lightly outline her features—her heart-shaped face, almond-sized eyes, and the strong bridge of her nose.

Once I finish, I lightly draw a line down the middle of her face to emphasize her different layers—happy on the outside, depressed on the inside.

I grab a tube of red paint and squeeze it out onto the palette. I swirl a round brush into the paint before outlining the lines and angles of the face.

I focus on one side at a time. Warm colors with light shading reflect her outside personality the best, so I add in some yellow with a blending brush over her cheeks and jawline. I add in some white to create the lighter shading around her eye and slant of her nose. Once I’m finished with that, I add some teal paint and use my fan brush to accent the cheekbones with the yellow underneath it to create a lighter allusion.

I finish up the left side with my pointed round brush and paint in the eye blue. Once that’s complete, I smooth everything together with a flat brush and wait for it to dry. I stand back and study it for a moment before deciding I’m satisfied with it for now. It feels like her—happy and energetic—the teals and yellows of my past life.

I begin the other side with a base coat of purple and then layer a light shade of blue on top. This side of the face is meant to be dark and oppressed—her inner personality—so I add in the shading to exaggerate the features more.

I wait until it dries a bit before adding another layer of blue, this time a couple shades darker than before to accent the cheekbones. I run the angular flat bristles alongside the jawline and up near the ear, making the blue stand out more than the purple. Once I’m done with the blue, I blend in the white to outline the other side of the nose and eye.

The song continues repeating in my earbuds as I sing some of the lyrics aloud. I take a step back and look at the two sides as a whole.

I tilt my head left and right, checking out the different angles before deciding to add another layer of blue to the right side.

I quickly glance up at the clock and see I still have a good twenty-five minutes before I need to clean up and pretend I was never here. Just as I’m dipping a clean flat brush in the paint, I feel someone behind me.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and jerk around so quickly the paintbrush between my fingers follows. A streak of blue paint wipes across Professor Hampton’s face before I even realize it’s happened.

“Oh my God!” My eyes go wide as I feel my cheeks heat with embarrassment. I quickly yank my earbuds out. “I’m so sorry!” I lower my hand and examine the damage.

He smiles and a small laugh escapes his throat as he blinks. “Guess I deserved that.”

I frown. “It wasn’t on purpose.”

“Never sneak up on a painter,” he confirms. “Sorry about that. I was trying not to startle you, but apparently, my plan failed.”

“It’s fine,” I assure him. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to come in yet.”

“Yeah, I figured I’d come early and prepare.” He smiles that crooked, drop-your-panties and beg-for-it smile, sending a rush of excitement through me. I’ve had some amazing professors in the past, but they’ve never made me feel as nervous to be around them as he does.

I can feel his breath against my bare arm, alerting me to take a step back. I put the brush down and look away. I start cleaning up my supplies, but I feel him grip my wrist and squeeze.

“Wait.”

I turn to look at him staring at the painting. I swallow at the intensity of his voice and eyes. His hand stays wrapped around my wrist as he stares intently at it, almost as if he’s examining every detail.

“You started this just today?”

“Yeah, about an hour ago.” I look back at the painting. “It’s a rough start. Something I did on a whim.”

He releases my wrist and smiles at me. “It’s stunning. The contrast between the warm and cool colors really catches your attention, drawing you into the tones. It's almost like they are forcing you to feel the agony and heartache she's feeling from her struggles.”

“Thank you.” I lower my head to hide the blush creeping over my cheeks. When I need to get out of my own head, I just start painting. Getting lost in whatever piece I’m working on helps me cope. It’s the only non-medical thing that keeps my anxiety under control. “I was trying to show her two contradicting personalities by putting them side by side,” I explain.

“So she’s struggling with inner demons but doesn’t reveal it on the outside?” he asks, intrigued, and I nod.

“There’s a struggle with who she wants to be on the outside and what she feels on the inside.”

“Sounds intense.” His lips tilt down slightly into a frown. “I love it, Aspen. Would you mind if I kept it in the classroom to exhibit for a bit?”

I look down and bite my lip. I slowly bring my head back up, his eyes trying to read me. “Um…” I hesitate. “Actually, it’s kind of personal.”

“I won’t tell anyone it’s yours.” He grins slyly, and I find myself having a hard time resisting those damn dimples.

“Okay, so if anyone asks…” I prompt.

“I’ll claim it’s a student from the old college I used to teach at. Someone named…” He pauses briefly. “Regina Hopintale.”

I bite my lip to keep myself from laughing but fail. “Thanks.”

His lips curl up even higher, showing off his dimples again. Lord, those dimples are like fresh strawberries covered in melted chocolate. They look so delicious and perfect that you can’t deny the explosive flavor once it hits your tongue.

Oh my God…did I just compare my professor’s dimples to chocolate covered strawberries?

I seriously need to get some fresh air. Or perhaps a second pair of panties.

He walks to the front of the classroom, setting his briefcase down on the desk. I clean up my area and put my supplies away before the first few students walk in.

“How’s it goin’?” Ellie asks in that southern twang of hers as soon as she sits down in the chair next to mine.

“You’re surprisingly early…” I narrow my eyes at her suspiciously.

“Not that early…” she denies, her cheeks turning a soft red.