Topsy Turvy Kinda Love
tone. “Hunny, there ain’t nothing about me that’s a boy anymore.”I’d love to know how much, she mumbles under her breath. I roll back on my heels, my attempts at flirting crashing and burning miserably. I take a minute to take in the room around me more intently. It’s completely Mia in a nutshell.
Sketches line the black coffee table, and though I try to resist the urge to walk over and snoop, my feet lead me anyhow. Her easel sits in the corner with a half-painted canvas, another abstract piece. A joint sits in an ashtray to the side of her brushes, and I wonder what it’s like to get high for a minute. I have—well- had friends that smoked back home when we were out from under the watchful eye of our parents but never tried it myself.
The thing I find most interesting is that there are no photos of her with her family in any place that I’ve seen so far. It makes me wonder if her relationship with her parents is strained much like my own. I take one more glance around before realizing how comfortable I feel in her space. Like I’m meant to be here. I want Mia to feel the same way.
“You know, this is not what I expected when I met you. You being an artist with a penchant for smoking joints.”
She quirks her eyebrow. “What exactly did you expect?”
“I’m not entirely sure… not saying that I don’t like it by any means, but it’s…” A weird look flashes across her face and I kill my thoughts instantly. “I’m just going to stop talking now.” The last part comes out as a mumble as a smile forms on her lips.
“I like clean lines, black and white, yes or no. There is no in between and blurry colors mixing up things in real life, but with paint, I can let it all explore.”
My eyes immediately go to her hair, and I raise an eyebrow. Her eyes follow the path mine have just led and she smirks. “This doesn’t apply. I’d rather look at colorful hair than dull blonde hair.”
“Well, I think you’d look great in either.”
Her eyebrow lifts. “If I didn’t know any better, Brooks, I’d say you were being sweet to get into my pants or something.”
A smile forms across my lips. “Nah, just raised with manners. What I really want to say to you isn’t appropriate for the situation.” I want to say all types of things to her about how gorgeous she is and how I want to make her mine. Not to mention all the dirty things I want to do to her, but I refrain.
“Sometimes, manners are really the pits. Don’t you ever feel like breaking out of those dreadful bonds of politeness every once in a while? Letting the truth spill from your lips like the softest velvet.”
I want to. So badly, but my brain won’t open my mouth to process the thoughts I truly want to let slip.
“So…” I say, trying to get my mind off those certain things, which will ultimately lead to an unnecessary tenting in my pants. “Where did you come up with the idea for a black, white, and grey interior design like this?”
“Oh, um… Pinterest. I pin things entirely too much. My friend, Macy, got me into it a couple years ago, and I’ve been doing it ever since. To say I’m obsessed is probably the understatement of the century.”
I blink at her. “What’s a Pinterest?” We have the internet where I came from, but I’ve never heard of such a thing and I want to know everything that I possibly can about Mia.
She giggles. “It’s like this site with a whole bunch of picture ideas on how to design, what recipes to cook, crafts, and so on. You can basically pin things you like which means saving them to a list to go back and look at later on. Sometimes I find inspiration for paintings and sculptures there too. I lose myself for hours on end, just looking at pictures.” I’ve noticed a few sculptures spread throughout the room. She pulls out her phone and quickly shows me what’s on her own Pinterest. It doesn’t seem like my thing, but if she likes it then so be it.
She puts her cell phone back in her pocket and looks up at me. “What do you like to do in your spare time?”
“To be honest, I’m not really sure what I like to do. When I was growing up, I fancied working with wood pieces. It was one of the few things where I didn’t have everyone around. I’d go out to our shed and whittle away the afternoon once my chores were done. I could turn on my music and get lost in the craftsmanship of making something out of nothing, I suppose.”
“I totally get that. Taking something so simple and creating a design or a sculpture that you made with your own two hands without the help of anyone else. It’s about feeling oneness with your creation. I guess it’s a weird thing to explain out loud, but I get what you’re saying.”
I nod.
“So… where are you from? You’re pretty closed lipped about it. Is it a secret or something? Wait, are you in the witness protection program or do you like… work for the CIA?”
A chuckle slips past my lips before my thoughts run cold, dark. Thinking about that place gives me the creeps. The leaders were in charge of who you hung out with, how you lived, what job you would have within the compound. They chose who you would marry, who would be best suited to make a stable life partner—whether you wanted one or not. I fight the urge to curse it, like every time I think about it. I grit my teeth. “Frazier’s Creek, Tennessee.”
She purses her lips. “Where is that?”
“It’s in the middle of a nowheresville mountain range.”
“How in the hell did you end up