Outdrawn

by Deanna Grey

Whoever said it's lonely at the top never met Sage Montgomery, never experienced her dedication to camping out at the peak of success.

My angsty, lesbian mermaids helped me afford to move out on my own for the first time since graduating.

Quelling screams is an art form, one I've mastered.

Our time did more than overlap—it tangled. I held my tongue about the tangling, because it's too weird to explain how we had gotten close enough to draw in each other's sketchbooks but never exchanged phone numbers. It's too weird for even me to fully comprehend.

It wasn’t fair that she was even more beautiful now than she was in college.

Noah's work helped get me through my fog a few months ago. At rock bottom, I'd turned to her comic, and it'd been the best thing about my day. My obsession with her characters was embarrassing to admit, especially after I'd spent years putting distance between us. The art world liked to compare our work because our styles were similar, but something deep inside me knew she had the potential to be better. My growing love for her story proved that.

The lack of interaction had been disappointing; much like how I’d gotten in the habit of annoying Tyson, I kept myself amused by getting reactions out of Noah.

When I looked up, I realized how close I’d gotten to her. Yeah, this cubicle had shrunk since she’d arrived. I could smell the lilac perfume she'd always worn in college. The frown she sported was enough of a warning to not linger but go back to my corner.

Before I slipped out of the greenhouse, Mom added, “I'm so proud of you. I hope you know that, baby.”

Today was supposed to be a good day—one of the best. So why did I feel so shitty? Why couldn’t I feel proud of myself, too?

The conflicting emotion I got from seeing how soft she looked versus how hard she actually was would never cease to confuse me.

I wanted to scoff at how nice she sounded, how pretty she looked.

I used to hate critique days, but her presence made it ten times more entertaining.

She looked at me now, those dark brown eyes confident. I didn’t know why they set a spark in my belly, the kind of spark I got when I have a long day of drawing ahead of me. Those kinds of days were the only ones I looked forward to.

How could you be one of the best when you didn’t know what it looked like?

The longer she talked, the louder her voice became. She still clung to the binder she hadn’t opened even once, and I found myself staring at her fingers on the cover. There were dark spots on her knuckles, matching the ones on her collarbone, and I got the urge to sketch them out. They were pretty and worthy of a story I was surprised I wanted to hear.

The air smelled sweet when she passed me to the sink, and her dress fluttered behind her with enough movement to brush against my jeans. I didn't feel it, of course, but the visual made me take a deep breath.

The softness of her outfits mirrored the feeling one would get from watercolor paintings.

There was that desire to sketch her again—I want to draw her adjusting the glasses. I always thought Noah had great hands, her fingers long and delicate.

“Sorry.” I quickly moved out of her way, avoiding eye contact because of a sudden heart arrhythmia. When was the last time I’d gone in for a checkup?

We were still standing relatively close. There was glitter in her eyeshadow, and it reflected in the light. “I accept,” she said, voice a little off, matching the rhythm of my heart. “For now.”

She shrugged with a smile. This woman could see right through me; I was going to have to put more effort into this fake truce than I thought.

I used the back of my hand to rub my nose. Noah’s scent still lingered there, too sugary and gentle.

“Don’t even worry about that. I got it. We got it. We always do.” I swallowed, and with all my might held onto the words: No, you guys don’t. I always do.

Noah laughed, and I had to look away for a moment, because her neck was exposed. I resisted, pretending to trace the curve of it.

"it's you," set my skin on fire. It wasn't warm enough to be sweating outside, but here I was.

Noah mindlessly traced her pinky along her bottom lip as she considered my words, and I’m instantly distracted by the gloss and how it might feel against my fingers. My heart pounded.

She laughed, and I reveled in it. How many more ridiculous claims could I make in the next few minutes to get her to do that again?

She wasn't going to get in my head. Whatever she had planned, I'd figure it out.

Lots of things made me happy: art, perfectly seasoned rice, bike rides downtown, and now, apparently, making Sage smile because of something silly.

Those warm feelings couldn't be trusted, especially when it came to Sage.

"They're corny," he said, point blank. "I still can't believe I let you convince me to watch that silly movie." "Don't tell me you're talking about Love Jones?" He made a face. "Yeah, that one." "Do you know how many people would stone you if they heard you say that?" "I wish they had while I was watching it."

Trust couldn't exist in my vocabulary when it came to her, just like us didn't exist in hers.

I admired the harsh line of her jaw as she did so. She had always been beautiful, but hot? This hot? No…at least, not from what I recalled.

The motorcycle was the reason why I wanted to pull her body against mine and kiss her silly. That dangerous vehicle was the only reason I imagined her gripping me tight when I pulled her against me.

And yet, something in me wanted more of her, to see her sitting across from me at a diner or feel her behind me on my bike.

My imaginings of her became so fleshed out, I could smell her perfume. I could feel her cheek against my hand, her lips pressed against mine.

"I burned myself out. Every dollar I earned I saved because every day was a rainy day. Once you guys saw that, you didn't feel the need to pitch in. You felt safe, T. I was terrified, and you felt safe."

I'd always had a good relationship with loneliness. Lonely had been my safe place. In silence, no one expected anything from me. That lack of expectation meant I could be myself. Of course, it got hard, but that was a trade-off I'd been willing to make. Or, at least, I thought it was.

Noah's company in our cubicle started to become my favorite thing about the day. I found myself counting down the minutes until she showed up. I stopped using my over-the-ear headphones, replacing them with earbuds instead, because then I could hear her mumblings better.

Noah scoffed. It was a soft sound that made my gaze linger on her lips for a moment. She pressed her tongue to her upper lip when she was annoyed with me. I always found myself smiling when she did that—it was too adorable to not smile about.

I snorted at the outrage. She had no business being that pretty while outraged.

"Noah.” I dragged out her name in a playful tone. The syllables felt good on my tongue. Had her name always felt like this? Like something I could repeat and never get bored of?

My deep frown doesn't scare her off like it used to, and I had to be the one to look away first, although not before my stomach got all twisted in confusing knots.

I was starting to wonder if one kiss would fix whatever was going on right now.

Tyson walked away, and Noah beamed at the praise, grinning from ear to ear. The warmth in my chest didn't harbor any annoyance—I was actually smiling, too.

Touching her was like diving into a warm pool, the heat soothing yet close to being unbearable. I wanted more, but I wasn’t confident I'd be able to handle more. That I was worthy of more.

She looked good angry but even better calm. I’d been going about this relationship all wrong. I should have been trying to get her to look like this from the get-go.

Her hand looked nice in mine—protected. I twisted my mouth to the side at that thought, at the slowly growing need to be that for her. The longing engulfed me, unwilling to let me go no matter how much I tried to pull away.

What would it be like to see her experience something like a carnival for the first time? Doing something with someone for the first time made everything feel more magical. I went back and forth in my head, even though I already knew what my decision would be.