BLOOD

THREE

Dumb. At that moment, I felt dumb. Of course! A pretty boy like Evan could never be in love with someone as plain as me. I was right all along—Evan wasn’t interested in me, but for what I can do for him.  It has always been this way, so I shouldn’t be surprised at all. But it hurt just as much.

“Yes, of course. I could help set up a meeting… with Hayley,” I said, trying my best to sound nonchalant about the whole thing. I picked up my cup again, but it was already empty.

Evan grabbed my hands. “Thank you. You’re not mad?”

It was hard to fake a smile. “No.” Of course I was!

“Really?” Evan gave a sigh of relief.

“Yes. I do understand.” No, I don’t.

Evan’s grip grew tighter. I looked down. Right now, it hurt too much to look at his face. Suddenly, I was wrapped around his embrace.

“You’re a good friend, Jane,” Evan said softly. His arms felt strong. It was too much to take.

“Don’t mention it,” I said, pulling myself away. Now, everything felt awkward. Evan must’ve felt awkward, too. After muttering an apology, he sat back down and continued to stare at his own cup. Knowing that it was useless to remain any longer, I told Evan that I had to take my leave. I had no other plans that day, but anywhere else was better than staying here with the guy who just broke my heart.

Evan offered to drive me, perhaps in an effort to mollify his own guilt. Naturally, I declined, and before he could say anything else, I stood up and left.

Twenty minutes. It was the fastest date I’ve ever had. Heck, I’ve even had hookups that lasted longer than this. The thought made me laugh, at the same time, pity my own sorry state. I walked to the university because I had a sudden desire to look at the painting at the Sanford Museum—it was something I always did whenever I felt lonely or down. Yes, I do admit that I’m not an artistic person. But somehow, looking at the artworks always calmed me.

It was a gloomy Saturday. The campus was almost empty. I took my time walking so I could savor the scent of pine, and to revel in the architectural beauty of the university. According to my grandfather, the university was even older than him. That says a lot, knowing how long he has been around.

When I got to the museum, I greeted the girl on the front desk with a cheery smile, which she returned.

“ID please,” she said, stretching out an arm. Students didn’t have to pay an entrance fee to visit the museum. I handed her my ID, which she swiped on a computer. “Enjoy,” she added, returning my card.

I muttered a thanks and started for my favorite area—the gallery. One of the reasons I loved the art gallery was because it was the least visited part of the museum. For some reason, most of the visitors preferred to spend their time in the taxidermy room. So, I was a bit disappointed to find that I wasn’t the only person there.

Suddenly, the gallery seemed smaller than it was. And in a fleeting moment, I had the sudden desire to just run away. The feeling left as soon as it came. With small steps, I headed to the first painting. It was called ‘Masquerade’ and was created by someone named Mannus. The picture portrayed a sort of revelry with participants dressed in nothing but masks.

“Quite apt for the real world, don’t you think?”

I looked away from the painting and saw a familiar face standing beside me. “I beg your pardon?” I said.

“I was talking about the painting. Naked bodies, hidden faces.” It was that creepy guy in the combat boots during the party.

I looked back at the painting and tried to find some meaning in the image in front of me. What could a group of naked bodies and covered faces mean? How was it, in any way, appropriate?

“Er…”

“Still don’t see it?” he said.

I shook my head, feeling slightly stupid.

“It’s about how we, as humans, are ready to divulge our innermost feelings, as long as were behind our fabricated personas.”

My brows were furrowed in concentration now, as I stared intently at the painting. Still, nothing. “Are you talking about social media?” I said, in the hopes of not sounding dumb.

“Presto!” He gave me two thumbs up.

“Thanks, I guess?” Strangely, I felt pleased with myself.

“I’m Forrest, by the way, and you are?” he held out a hand.

“Jane.” I took his hand. Once more, my chest started to tighten, and in that moment, all I wanted to do was to get out of here. I pulled my hand away. But Forrest held it tight. He was looking at me intently. His grey eyes were burning with a fiery passion that scared me, yet, drew me. Now, I didn’t just want to run. I wanted to wrap my own hands around his neck and kill him.

NO! I must not! I yanked my hand free. Forrest immediately let go. He looked as though he just snapped out from a trance. Confused at first, he shook his head and blurted out an apology.

“I was just… I got lost in thought,” said Forrest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

I was overly confused myself. What did I just feel?

“This… this is a mistake.” I heard Forrest say, more to himself. “I just… I have to go. Once again, my apologies.”

With that, he hurriedly left the gallery, while I stood, overwhelmed with a mix of emotions I never thought I’d feel in a single day.