Brush strokes and boundaries
1031 Words
Evelyn sat behind the reception desk of the gallery, her fingers drumming against the polished wood. The late afternoon sun filtered through the front windows, casting long, golden slants across the floor. Her colleagues moved like brushstrokes around the space, preparing for the upcoming exhibition. Still, Evelyn felt removed, like a detail painted out of place.
She told herself she was fine. She’d thrown herself into work, taken on extra tasks, and ignored the urge to check her phone. It had been four days since she’d walked away from Ryan after their kiss.
And he hadn’t called.
“Are you sure about the lighting on that wall?” Sofia called from the back.
Evelyn stood and walked over. “Let’s shift it two degrees left. The shadows hit awkwardly here.”
Sofia squinted. “Good eye.”
“I’ve been obsessively rearranging lighting when I can’t sleep,” Evelyn said with a shrug.
Sofia grinned. “Therapy through gallery feng shui.”
They worked in companionable silence until the front door chimed. A tall man walked in, holding a leather portfolio and a canvas under his arm. His jacket sleeves were dusted with paint, and his hair was a controlled mess of curls.
Sofia nudged Evelyn. “New artist. I’ll let you handle this one.”
Evelyn stepped forward. “Hi, welcome to Calyx Gallery. Are you here for the open submission?”
The man smiled. “Yeah. My name’s Nathan. Nathan Jareau.”
She gestured toward a side table. “You can set your materials there. Want to show me what you’ve brought?”
Nathan laid the portfolio on the table and opened it carefully. What Evelyn saw made her pause. His work was vivid and deeply emotional—introspective but daring. Brushwork that reminded her of Rothko and palette choices like an echo of her own, back when she wasn’t afraid to feel too much.
“These are incredible,” she said honestly.
“Thanks. I wasn’t sure if the tone matched your gallery’s focus.”
She glanced through more of his pieces. “This one—‘Underneath the Silence.’ What’s the story here?”
Nathan hesitated, then said, “It’s about saying everything and nothing in the same breath. Like… knowing there’s something unspoken, but not knowing if you should be the one to speak it.”
The words settled heavily in her chest. Evelyn looked up at him. “You’ve got a slot. We’re curating a new section for emotionally driven narratives in the city grant pitch. This belongs there.”
Nathan’s face lit up. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
His face lit up. “Thank you so much; this means a lot to me.” just as he was about to step out, she saw a silhouette.
Ryan
He looked different today—not in his suit, but in a casual navy sweater and dark jeans. Still polished, but less guarded.
“Morning,” he said.
She stood, surprised. “Hey… didn’t expect you back so soon.”
“I figured we should talk. Really talk.”
Evelyn gestured to the small seating area near the side of the gallery. He followed, sitting across from her, hands loosely clasped between his knees.
“I owe you honesty,” he began. “Yesterday… seeing you with Adrian. It threw me.”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “Threw you how?”
“I was... uncomfortable. I mean, you were together, laughing.”
She blinked. “Jealous?”
Ryan gave a dry laugh. “You looked at him like you used to look at your art—curious, alive. And I hated how natural it seemed.”
Evelyn leaned back, trying to gauge his expression. “Ryan, Adrian is just a friend. He’s intense, sure, but it’s not like that.”
“I know that. Rationally, I do. But something about him… I don’t know. He’s part of your world in a way I’m still trying to be. It gets under my skin.”
She softened. “You don’t have to be jealous of him. You don’t have to be anyone but yourself.”
Ryan met her gaze. “You say that, but I don’t want to be on the sidelines. I want to be the one you go to when things fall apart—or when they go right.”
Evelyn smiled. “You already are. But you can’t force your way into the parts of my life that are still healing.”
He nodded slowly. “Then I’ll wait. I just needed to say it. I felt… territorial. Which I hate.”
She chuckled. “So, you’re human. Good to know.”
A beat passed. He leaned forward. “Are you… still figuring things out with him?”
She walked past him, heart in her throat, and picked up one of her paintings. “You said once that maybe our worlds didn’t have to overlap. Just touch.”
He nodded.
“Well, what if touching messes everything up?”
Ryan stepped beside her but didn’t touch her. “Then we clean it up. Together.”
She looked at him, returning his gaze and staring at his beautiful eyes. Eyes that so many girls would kill to have glance at their direction “You really think this is a good idea?”
“No,” he said honestly. “But I think you are. And that’s worth figuring out.”
For a long moment, they just stood there.
Then Evelyn turned back to the painting. “You said you’re good with contracts.”
“The best.”
“Then draft one for me,” she said, voice light but layered. “Clause One: No running.”
He smiled. “Clause Two: No disappearing without at least one goodbye kiss.”
Evelyn chuckled. “Clause Three: Try not to break anything important—like each other.”
Ryan offered his hand. “Deal?”
She looked at it, then took it. “Deal.”
Behind her, the painting remained unfinished.
But maybe that was okay.
Because some things—like the best kinds of stories—weren’t meant to be rushed.
They were meant to unfold.
Together.
- Writer
