Creepy
Without really thinking about what he was doing, Zac fell back into a routine of pretending Taylor wasn’t in his life or apartment at all. He didn’t like that he had done it, but it happened so easily that it took him a few days to even realize what he had done. He hadn’t lived on his own for long, but it seemed he had adapted to that life better than he’d thought, and so it was surprisingly easy to carry on as though there wasn’t someone else there, picking up his dirty socks and leaving him leftovers for dinner on the nights he stayed late on campus.
He wasn’t proud of it at all, but what could he do? To stop would mean admitting that he was doing it in the first place, and to do that would mean explaining why he was doing it.
It just wasn’t fair, Zac decided. It wasn’t fair that Taylor could come back into his life so suddenly and then plot to leave it again just as quickly. It was, however, proof that he didn’t mean nearly as much to Taylor as Taylor did to him.
And if he didn’t mean that much to Taylor, why should he ever admit his own feelings?
Somewhere deep inside, Zac knew that all of his rationalizations wouldn’t hold up to close examination, but they were really all he had. For the moment, he was content—or at least stubborn enough—to carry on rationalizing everything away.
Spending more and more time in the studio on campus was an easy way to avoid Taylor, and one that almost made him look like a good student, even if he really should have spent more time in the library reviewing art journals than churning out paintings no one would ever see.
His locker was quickly filling up with these paintings and sketches, and it took him some digging to find the one he was looking for. Zac couldn’t have said for sure, given the general chaos he tended to leave his space in, but it seemed like everything was in a different order than he remembered. Drawings he hadn’t touched in weeks were at the top of the stack, and something he couldn’t quite explain just seemed… off.
Zac shook his head. Why would anyone have riffled through his things? There was nothing special, valuable or worth stealing in there, and the art department was generally pretty trustworthy and respectful of each other’s’ space and belongings.
He was definitely losing it. This was just another sign.
After a moment, he found the painting he was looking for and carried it into the unoccupied studio. He propped it up on an easel and began to lay out the paints he would need to finish it. Zac wasn’t proud of himself, but he had snatched a few of Taylor’s glitters that morning after he was sure Taylor had left for work. He rationalized that it wasn’t really stealing, since Taylor had allowed him to use them before. He just hadn’t specifically asked for permission this time, that was all.
Anyway, Zac told himself, there was no other way to make the tray of eyeshadow in this still life look just right if he didn’t use the real thing. Just a little bit of the glitter mixed with his paint ought to do it, Zac decided, and began squeezing out colors onto his palette—electric blue, vivid green and deep violet. All the colors he could so clearly picture Taylor wearing.
He was just starting to sketch out a bowl of cherries next to eyeshadow when he heard footsteps coming toward him. The whole art building echoed horribly, but he was certain they were headed in his direction. He wanted to cover the canvas, to deny it all somehow before anyone saw it, but his rational side told him that no one would really understand. Only he could see the meaning behind the assortment of items in this painting.
“Oh, Zac,” Melissa said, skidding to a stop in the doorway. “I thought I would find you here.”
“You were looking for me?” He asked.
“We got in that book you wanted on interlibrary loan. The one on traditional Cherokee art? I figured you were here and I’m on my way out for the evening, so I may have forged your signature and brought it on over for you.”
Melissa took a few steps into the room and shoved her hand into her messenger bag. She pulled something out and held it out, and even though Zac couldn’t accept it with his paint-stained hands, he could see that it really was the book he had asked her to send for. He wasn’t sure why he had doubted her in the first place. Definitely losing it, he thought, if he was mistrusting his new best friend.
“Well, anyway,” Melissa said, sitting the book down on a bare spot next to some paints Zac wasn’t using. “I should get back to my apartment, I guess. Are you going to hang around here for a while?”
“Probably,” Zac replied. In spite of himself, his eyes flickered back to the painting.
Melissa followed his gaze. “Yeah, I guess you’ll want to finish that. It’s… it’s nice. Different.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Zac snapped, flinching at how harsh his own voice sounded. He sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… well, I’m just sorry.”
Melissa shrugged. “It’s okay. But someday you’re going to want, or at least need, to talk about this stuff. Whatever it is. I know there’s something you’re not telling me, because I can see it killing you from the inside out. I wish you would tell me what it is and maybe I could help.”
“But maybe you couldn’t,” Zac replied softly.
“Maybe not,” Melissa replied. “But there’s no way to know if you don’t tell me, is there?”
Zac sighed. “I suppose not.”
“I’m sorry,” Melissa said, her shoulders falling in what looked like defeat. “I know I’m pushing, and I shouldn’t. We barely know each other, so I don’t know what makes me think I deserve to know more than you’re telling me. It’s just, you know, this is going to sound creepy, but… I watched you for a while. You’ve got one of these faces, the kind that has your emotions written all over it, and sometimes you just looked so sad, and I just worried about you. Before I even knew you, really, I knew there was something going on, something that I wished I could help make better. God, I’m creepy. I’m sorry. I’ll just go.”
Zac stared at her. It was creepy, he supposed, and he had been wary of her at first because of how intense and obvious she was about her interest in him. But she was sincere. She may not have known him well or for long, but she noticed things that the guys he had called his best friends for years didn’t. That had to count for something.
“Don’t go,” Zac managed to croak out. “I mean, maybe you are creepy, but I kind of like you, Melly. So I don’t know what that says about me.”
A slow smirk spread across Melissa’s face. “I kind of like you, too.”
“And I guess I owe you a little bit more honesty.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” Melissa replied, collapsing into a nearby chair. “But if you want to talk, I’ll listen.”
“Maybe I owe it to myself, then,” Zac said softly. He glanced down at his hands, coated with dried paint and glitter, trying to figure out how to begin… and where to stop. There was nothing to do but dive right in, he supposed. His head still down so that he couldn’t see Melissa’s reaction, he said, “I guess… I mean, I guess a lot of what you saw, it all started when Carly broke up with me. But I’ve never been a happy person, at least not since—well, since high school.”
He couldn’t say Taylor’s name, he realized. It was too close to telling her the truth, and that was a bridge he wasn’t yet ready to cross.
“But I guess you know most of that,” Zac continued. “What I’m not saying… is still really scary to even think about saying. It’s just that I guess I wish I had control of my emotions, you know? But I’m realizing that I don’t, and this isn’t even about Carly anymore, although I still can’t say that I’m really over her either.”
“Is there someone else?” Melissa asked softly.
Zac nodded. “And it’s not—well, all I can really say is it’s not someone I expected to fall for. And it’s making me question… everything, really. Everything I thought I knew about myself.”
An awkward silence fell over the room, and Zac knew he had said far too much. There was really only one way for Melissa to interpret his words. It was all too close to the truth and so much more than he was ready to admit, but he couldn’t take the words back.
“Well,” Melissa finally breathed out. “What I know about you is that you are a thoughtful, sensitive person. And maybe you care a little too much about what other people think of you, but it’s clear that you care about others, too. You’re sweet and loving to a fucking fault, and that may be a problem sometimes, but my point is… has any of that changed? Because I haven’t seen anything about you change in the admittedly short time I’ve really known you.”
“No,” Zac replied. “Nothing has changed. I guess. I’m in a new and really fucking different situation, but the things you said, if they’re true, are the same.”
Melissa scooted toward Zac and took his hands in hers. “They are true. And if they haven’t changed, then you haven’t, either. So you’re experiencing new things and learning new things about yourself, but none of that invalidates what you used to know.”
“I guess it’s just hard to keep sight of who I really am when everything is changing.”
“I really don’t know what all you’re going through here,” Melissa said. “But I appreciate that you’re opening up to the extent that you have, since it’s obviously something you’re really struggling with. So I don’t want to understate how much I appreciate that you’re talking about it at all, and that you trust me with it.”
“A part of me wishes I could say more,” Zac admitted. “But I can’t, at least not right now.”
Melissa nodded knowingly, although Zac was sure that she couldn’t really know. What he had said was dangerous enough, no matter how little substance it had.
“Can we talk about something else now?” Zac asked.
“Sure,” Melissa replied. “Even better, why don’t we get out of here and get something to eat? I bet you haven’t had dinner yet.”
“I haven’t,” Zac admitted.
Melissa stood up abruptly, pulling Zac up with her. “Then let’s go! What do you want? I’m paying.”
“Anything that doesn’t require being around people,” Zac replied.
“Chinese takeout and beer?” Melissa suggested with a grin.
“Now, that,” Zac said, giving her hands a squeeze, “sounds like a perfect plan. Can I be a total mooch and ask you to drive? I walked to campus today.”
“You can always mooch off me, honey,” Melissa replied, leading Zac toward the door. “Did that sound wrong? Whatever. Let’s just go drown your sorrows in some brews and eggrolls.”
“Alright, alright,” Zac replied, prying his hands from Melissa’s and reaching for his canvas. “Let me just clean up my mess here.”
With Melissa’s help, it took only a few minutes to clear everything away so that it hardly even looked like Zac had been there at all. He liked that. Something about leaving no impression, no trace of himself at all, was oddly satisfying. He had the fleeting thought that everything would be easier if he could just disappear, but he knew that wasn’t true. It hadn’t worked for Taylor, after all.
He tried to shake away the unwanted thought of Taylor, but he couldn’t. A few beers with Melissa was exactly what he needed to clear his mind, he decided. It wouldn’t fix anything permanently, he knew, but it was what he needed right then.