Rush

by tuesday blue

During the most shakily brilliant and unsteady time in her life, three things vied for her affections: New York, art, and love.

6. such a rush

Chapter 6 - such a rush.

"Art?" her father had said when Audrey first informed him of her intended major at the College of London. The tone of his voice was one of befuddlement, as though he could not possibly understand why anyone, much less his own bright, promising daughter would want to have anything to do with such a thing. "Are you....certain?" Malcolm Nellwyn asked his daughter.

To this, Audrey had only nodded. She had known that she couldn't back down. Yet, approving or not, he was still her father, and she had been determined to still love and respect him. But oh, how she had wanted him to be welcome to the idea. How she had wanted his blessing. As her father gazed off into the distance thoughtfully, mulling the idea over in his mind and rolling the word around on his tongue once more as if it had a bad taste to it and he was trying to get used to it, Audrey had only looked down at the laces of her shoes. They were coming untied, and she hadn't bothered to take the time to tie them more securely. Her shoelaces, like her thoughts, she mused, had always seemed to be dangling due to lack of time invested in them. She was famed for that – jumping from one exciting thing to the next, but never really abandoning the first. And then, still hoping and trying against time and practicality to get everything finished. To preserve and maintain everything.

Malcolm had been keen to this trait in his daughter. He looked at her with a softness and wisdom in his eyes that age and fatherhood had given to him. She was so hopeful, and so earnest. Poor dear, at the tender age of 17, she was committing her life to something so unsteady. Something insubstantial, he thought. Though, it didn't surprise him. She'd always had a knack for the creative and visual. She'd gotten it from her mother. Little Audrey Jane at the age of four had drawn quite a lovely mess on her bedroom walls with crayon. The love of it had been bred into her. But how long would it be before she tired of it and moved along to the next thing? Perhaps he wasn't giving her enough credit. Perhaps this would be the time she would follow through. "You say this is a full paid scholarship?" he had asked her after a ten minute deliberation.

"Yes. Fully paid," Audrey had been quick to assure.

"In London?"

"Yes."

"So, this means you'll need a housing arrangements – a dorm. And other expenses. Is the scholarship money going to pay for those also?"

"Well," Audrey had begun. She'd read the letter they'd sent only moments before approaching him, and yet, under his eye and questioning, the pressure of answering correctly and selling him on the idea had wiped almost all trace of what she had read from her memory. "The housing is paid for by the scholarship, yes. I'll have a dorm room. And as far as other expenses, I scored high enough on my standardized placement tests to get a student job on campus. If that proves to not be enough, I could always get a small part time job. I've worked before, Da. I'm used to it. It's not going to kill me to work."

Once more, the earnestness coated her voice, informing her father of just how badly she must have wanted it and slaying him at the same time. Yet, he still had one more avenue to explore before relenting and admitting defeat. "And what about physics? I thought you were going to read in that. You were all set, and the local chapter of the Physics and Engineering Society was awarding you a lot of money to go into that field."

"It's an equal amount.. I checked."

"Oh." Malcolm Nellwyn had then folded his newspaper into a neat rectangle and placed it onto his lap. He took another thoughtful puff on his pipe and then said, "Well, love, if you're so certain that this is what you wanted to do, then who am I to stand in your way?" He gave Audrey a warm smile and patted her knee. "We'll talk more about this in the morning. Go to bed now, it's late." Audrey nodded to him, and somehow contained her immediate thrill at his easy agreement. She had been certain that he would be her hardest sell. She knew very well that her father was not the pushover type. He was firm and methodical, and she realized that a simple, "Da, I want to do this" would not have sufficed. After her father had left the room, Audrey leapt up from her chair, and excited hugged herself in celebration of her victory. Filled with renewed hope and vigor, she brushed off her father's advice to go to sleep, and instead walked out to the little shed behind their small house. It was padlocked and she opened the door with a little key she wore on a chain around her neck. Yes, everything was going to work itself out. Everything was going to be alright, and she, Audrey Nellwyn, was going to start a new painting that night that would be a tour de force in the her early painting portfolio.

Even then, she'd been supported. While her father had never been certain that she was doing the correct thing for her future, he'd trusted her and continued to faithfully believe that she would succeed. These days, Audrey herself couldn't be so sure.

Audrey had been painting for what seemed like at least seven hours, but was really four, when she finally decided to call it quits. It wasn't because she wanted to. No, she was bound and determined to make that Monday night exclusively "painting night." With final project time drawing ever closer by the day, each step closer to a finished painting counted, and counted immensely. Every brushstroke helped, and Audrey knew this. Yet, after hours of cigarettes dangling from her mouth as she slammed paint brushes down and fiddled with paint clumsily, she plucked her last cigarette from her mouth and angrily snuffed it out in the already full ashtray. Taking her head in her hands, she sighed deeply and scratched her head. What the hell was she going to do? What the hell was she going to fucking do?

She was going to take a break, that's what she was going to do, she decided. Just take a break and breathe. Slipping on hersweatshirt and gloves, she trod into the kitchen and retrieved an apple. As she walked back to her room, she took a large crunching bite from it. She fumbled around in the drawer with the hand that was not holding the apple, pushing things aside as she looked questioningly inwards. As she shoved things out of the way and dug to the bottom, each moment that went by added a degree more confusion to her befuddled expression. Finally, her fingers found what they were looking for. She slipped the found object into her pocket and grabbed her lucky Zippo lighter before opening the window and climbing out onto the fire escape.

Audrey plopped down onto the cold metal, pulling her woolen coat more tightly around her flannel pajama bottoms and sweater top. It was abso-bloody-lutely cold outside, and she knew quite well just how out of one's mind person would have to be to consider, much less insist upon sitting outside on a cold metal platform three stories up on a winter's night in New York. Audrey smiled slightly. She'd never refuted being called out of her mind. She knew too well that she really was. Leaning her head back against the coarse brick, she closed her eyes and took another big bite from the apple in her black gloved hand. She munched on it thoughtfully and wondered just exactly how exactly a girl like her had ended up in a place like the East Village of New York City. It was amazing really, she thought. For Audrey Nellwyn had been a shy, afraid child who'd grown into a shy, afraid woman. The only difference was her height and education. In her mind she repeated the mantra she'd adopted on the plane ride over from England that first fateful day. "Yes, that's right," Audrey told herself firmly with another bite. Her mouth full of apple, she added, "I have to keep reminding myself it is only a place and places do not swallow you whole. They simply exist and open themselves up so that you can wander their streets and live within their houses." Almost as if to punctuate her sentence with irony, Audrey heard a loud crash, coupled with glass shattering and a car alarm's shrill siren piercing the air from somewhere down in the streets below.

"Places do not swallow you whole," she repeated. A pungent smell rose up into the air and filled Audrey's nostrils. She cringed. Must be from the sewer. The sewer must have backed up in the night. Jack was out playing cards with his friends. Or something like that, Audrey thought. She wasn't sure. He mentioned it once and she'd been distracted at the time and not interested enough to ask. She trusted Jack though that he was doing something completely innocent and honorable. Jack was very trustworthy. She liked that about him. Liked it in ways she could not explain.

As she daydreamed about Jack and his endearing charms, her window slid open more and a head poked out and looked around. "A-ha!" the head said triumphantly. "Found you." Audrey turned her attention to the window and watched as the head disappeared and was replaced by a stiletto boot. The boot was placed firmly on the grate of the platform, and out of it the window Ray crawled.

"Back so soon?" Audrey asked, her eyes staring out onto the building across the street.

Ray looked at the place on her arm where a watch would have been, had she been wearing one. "Am I?" she asked lightly.

"Yes," was the answer. "It's only eleven o'clock."

"Oh, I hadn't noticed." Ray sidestepped along the platform and sat down next to Audrey. She pulled her coat tightly around her and shivered. "It's cold out here. You freak. Sitting out here in the cold." Raven glimpsed Audrey's preoccupation with chewing and remarked, "Another apple. You've been eating a hell of a lot of those lately."

Audrey shrugged in response. "Yeah."

"Oh. Red delicious?"

Audrey wrinkled her nose. "You mean, Red Disgusting? No. I don't eat those. Besides, the colour of them offends my eye."

The two made quite a contrasting pair. Audrey hunched over and knees pulled to her chest – a veritable human ball in her thick paint-marred hooded sweatshirt, plaid bottoms, slippers and hair messily pulled back sat next to polished Raven, in her black leather Gucci coat, knee high boots, and diamond earrings. She'd obviously been home a few minutes before she sought out her friends, because she'd put on her glasses for the night. Otherwise, Raven looked her usual: chic and untouched to say she'd already been through a day and a night out. Audrey looked over to Ray and noticed something unusual about her appearance. "You're wearing your glasses?" she asked, forehead wrinkled. "That's strange. I didn't know you wore glasses. I mean...I'd seen them in your room, but I thought maybe you'd grown out of needing them or they were for show cause I'd never seen you with them on."

"Nope. I wear glasses. They're my 'see far away' glasses, and I had to put them on tonight because my contacts were hurting like a mother fucker," Ray said directly. After a pause, she added, "But don't tell anyone that I do, alright?"

"Agreed," promised Audrey. She bit off the last bit of flesh from her fruit and while chewing on the bite, tossed the apple core over the ledge and onto whatever was below. Reaching into the pocket of her coat, she produced a small baggie and showed it to Ray. "I picked this up from one of April's friends," she said in an amused tone. "Rolled them myself this afternoon. What do you say, Ray Ray? You wanna get high as a bloody kite?"

Raven rolled her eyes orgasmically. "Oh, hell yes." She grinned and bit her bottom lip excitedly as her mind rolled over the thought once more. "God I was hoping someone would ask, because for some reason I've been craving. I think it's just leftover longing for my high school days. Ha! I used to smoke up behind the school with Johnny Grisham. Yeah...those were good times." She paused as the nostalgia washed and waved over her face. "He was a good lay," she added.

Audrey struck her lighter aflame and held it to the end of the blunt, sucking the fire inside of it until it ignited. She inhaled the smoke, and let it course down her throat. Her voice was light and strained, clouded by smoke when she said, "High school boys usually are," and handed the joint to Ray. "They're so eager to please. Except the grabby ones who are just impossible."

Raven laughed at her friend's cool truth and accepted the roll eagerly. As she puffed away on it, she tilted her head upwards and blew fabulously illegal smoke rings into the night sky's chill. "I've got to tell you, Audrey," she said, "You are the very last person I would have expected to bum weed off of. What in hell are you doing with this?"

"I don't know," Audrey said, her chin resting on her drawn in knees. "I...uh....well....getting high....it helps me." She shrugged and took the joint that Ray was holding out to her. Taking a pull from it, she added in a choked voice, "Paint, I think. It helps me. Paint." She grew quiet for some time, a gleaming shade of distant waxing in her eyes. "Ray," she said introspectively, "Do you think that we're so drawn to each other because we're both motherless children?"

"I don't know," Ray answered in a smoky voice. "I guess it's possible. I hadn't thought much about it, but I suppose it could be that."

"Mmm. You're better about it than I. I mean, better about being motherless. You're so strong and unaffected that no one would ever notice if you didn't tell them. With me, I'm afraid it's written all over my face. I'm weaker than you are. More of a mess. I envy you for that though...for being so fearless and cool. So free to do whatever you want without a second thought to, well...anything." Audrey held the joint between her fingers and let it burn and smolder without bothering to take another draw from it. If she was anything, Audrey was a philosophical, introspective stoner. After her first few hits, she was bored of it and surrendered to her mind's altered and freer roaming.

"Oh, pshaw." Ray traced a shape in the sky, connecting the stars above her into a wobbly heart. She giggled and then clapped her hand over her mouth. With a gleeful look dancing in her eye, she said, "Oh. Look at me. I just said 'pshaw.' That's some potent stuff you've got there." She noticed Audrey holding the "potent stuff" inactively. "You want any more of that?" she asked.

"No, I'm set," Audrey answered with a wave of her hand. She held the lighted stick out to her flat made in offering. "Here. You want the rest?"

"Don't mind if I do," was the answer. Upon receiving, Ray took another long, forceful drag from the joint and blew out an equally long trail of smoke from her painted lips. "Audrey?" she asked, resting her head against the brick of the six five story building. Inside, someone and a closed a door rather severely because the fire escape the two shared rattled beneath them, but neither took notice. "Do you ever think about kissing girls?"

Audrey wrinkled he nose and shook her head in dissent. "Um, no," she said. "What made you think of this?"

Raven shrugged. "Aw, you're such a prude. Lute's been getting to you, I see With her Republican conservatism. It's catching, I know And it caught you. I would, I think. If the girl was hot."

"Okay, Ray..."

"What's wrong with that? Like your friend Kylie from school. The blonde chick that we ran into at Perks. I think I'd kiss her if it were just a one time thing."

"Oh yeah?" countered Audrey. "What about Spot?"

"I don't think he'd care. In fact, now that I thin about it, I think he'd probably like it actually. Besides, she's hot."

"Yeah, she is rather pretty."

The silence between the friends mounted once more. Raven busied herself with braiding a strand of her hair and Audrey stared into the infinite cityscape intently. She let her eyes roll in and out of focus, blurring the lights of the city that never slept into a patterned swirl of melted fluorescents. Time stood still, yet sped up and passed with the confident air that only a city could have produced.

"Oh," Ray interjected with a thrusted point of finger into Audrey's line of sight. The beautiful display of broken lights fizzled back into sharp toned reality, disappointing Audrey. "My friend thinks you're hot," Ray continued in a casual voice. When Audrey's eyes widened and she pursed her lips to object, Ray quickly added, "But he's gay. So don't worry. He was in that play. You remember that play...that one I was in a while back. Hmm...can't seem to remember the name of it. Ha. I'm sooo stoned. Anyway, I met him at that first audition that I fucked up...and then he was at the next one, too. So, we're doing this new play now – oh, I got a job. Did I tell you that? Because I did. Uh huh, I did. A new role, but it's nothing big. I mean, my role is semi-big. It's almost a lead. But the play itself isn't going to be big. What was I telling you? Hmm..." Ray stared off into the distance and sucked a bit on the joint as she thought. "Oh! I remember!" she said finally. "I was telling you that Ricky thinks you're hot stuff. Ricardo Jones...isn't that such a gay name. It suits him. I wonder if his mother really named him something like that. Hell, what am I talking about? Mine named me Mia Raven. He hasn't been at rehearsal lately. I think he's sick or something. Like no, really sick. Probably got AIDS or something."

"Half of New York has AIDS," Audrey mumbled in monotone. Her treasured pleasantly numb feeling was waning. She felt her coat pocket for the small, yet comforting lump of a second joint.

"No," Ray corrected her with a definitive shake of her head. "Everyone's got AIDS. Face it, girly - In this city, having it is as trendy as sherpa boots and tongue rings." Another five minutes of silence hung in the air. Ray cast a sidelong glance to Audrey. Taking note of her bent head and downcast eyes, she scowled. "Hey," she said, "Dumb and glum, what's the matter with you?" When Audrey's only answer was only a sort, muffled sarcastic laugh, Raven promptly leaned over and bestowed upon her a short left jab to the forearm. "Cheeeeeer up, chum," she said in a enthusiastic voice coupled with a wide smile. "Ooh...look at me! I made a rhyme. Glum. Dumb. Chum. Glum, dumb, chum!" Ray clapped her hands in glee and then rested her head back against the bricks once more. "I am sooooo hungry."

Audrey instinctively cradled her arm, rubbing the spot where she was certain a lovely purple and blue bruise would appear. Her mouth hung open, slightly stunned. When She finally got over the initial shock and found words, yelled, "RAY! What the hell is bloody wrong with you? Oww. You fucking punched me in the arm. Why?"

Ray shrugged in response. Though Audrey glared at her with malice in her eyes, Ray was completely unphased by her friend's vengeful stare. The stupid smile of carefree, fuzzy contentment remained plastered across her face as she rubbed her stomach. "You're so moody," she told Audrey and then, clumsily rose to a full stand. Dusting er hands off, she announced, "I'm hungry. I'm gonna get something to eat. You want?"

"Go to hell," Audrey answered, still wincing and nursing her wound.

"I guess that means no," she said brightly. "Oh well. That's fine. More for me!" Ray stuck one boot through the window's opening and proceeded to climb through.

As she did, Audrey called out after her, "There's nothing to eat in there!"

"Then I'll just go out and get something, silly Audrey," Ray returned in a singsong voice. "Now, where are my boots?"

"You do that," Audrey mumbled in reply. She waited a while and stared out at the lights of the city, letting her eyes shift in and out of focus. The streetlights and lit windows blurring and fading into one bright haze and then back to distinct circles of separate light. When Audrey heard the door slam shut, she finished into her pocket and produced the second joint and her clover emblazoned Zippo. With her lucky lighter, she lit the roll and brought it to lips. She then commenced the selfish enjoyment of its mind altering effects.

.ooooooooo.

Audrey stood patiently at the bar and examined herself in the tarnishing mirror behind the countless liquor bottles. She'd been waiting for a good, solid five minutes. But the sole bartender looked pitifully swamped and she wasn't Ray, so she politely waited her turn. Her father would have been proud. As she waited she picked at the peeling paint that lined the bar's edges and swayed gently in time with the wailing guitars of Cat Eye Blue blasting from the speakers on stage. The floor felt sticky under her feet. Just as it should have, she thought. Audrey did not want to know what the sticky grime was that covered the floor underfoot, and she was thankful for the darkness and the intensely thick cloud of smoke that impaired her vision for she would have surely investigated if it were possible. "That's what you get for going to a dirty bar," she told herself and then smile and rolled her eyes at herself. In truth, she didn't actually mind spending her night in a dark, dirty pub. She'd grown accustomed to it having frequented so many in her younger days. Her groupie days, she mused to herself.

When her turn finally came, the bartender walked over to her, drying his hands on an already quite damp towel and took her order with a nod of his head. "Hi. Can I have a Miller Lite, a Rolling Rock, a rum and coke and a – ha, get this, a martini?" Much to her surprise and relief, the barkeep looked unaffected by her order. As she paid him in a bent five and wadded up ones, she mumbled, "God, Ray. Only you would order a martini in a grunge pub."

When the bartender returned with her four drinks, he eyed her suspiciously and asked, "Are you sure you're going to be able to carry all that?"

Audrey snickered and shook her head. Eyes wide, brows arched, and bent on showing him up, she assured him that she could. "Ha, ha, ha. Such little faith. You just watch me. I'm the finest waitress in lower Manhattan." With that, she took both beers under one arm, her own glass in the hand of the same arm, and Ray's martini she held delicately in her right hand. She shot the bartender a coy grin of victory and waltzed away carrying the four drinks unfalteringly. When she came up on the post her party had taken residence at, she approached unnoticed. Ray had her arms draped around Spot as she normally did. Spot, seeming devilish as ever, was excitedly talking about something which Jack looked uneasy to hear. She hung back a minute before making herself known to listen in to the rest of Spot's statement. "Knew she was a fun one," Audrey heard him say. She waited until the end of "Why'd you dump her" to make her entrance. She slid easily into the middle of the circle and handed Spot his beer bottle. "Why'd you dump who?" she asked blithely. She delivered the martini to Ray's eager, outstretched hand and gave her an apologetic look as she said, "Sorry, it's in a Styrofoam cup. I don't think it's fucked up very badly otherwise. At least, it looks as though he didn't." Audrey gazed expectantly toward Jack and saw his cheeks colour slightly.

"Uh, no one and nothing," he mumbled, quickly taking a swig of his beer in hopes to avoid further questioning.

"What a bad liar!" Ray cut in. She took a tentative sip from her cup and then her face twisted into a strong cringe. "Ugh," she said. "God, they can't even make it dry enough. Blasphemy!"

Audrey turned her attention away from Jack long enough to shoot her flat mate an incredulous stare. "It's a pub," she cried, "a dirty pub. I'm frankly surprised the barkeep even knew what it was." She shook her head and then returned to Jack. "No. Spot said she was fun...I caught at least that much when I was walking up. Spot doesn't say that about anyone, especially a girl that you dated. I doubt she was nobody." Out of the corner of her eye, Audrey could barely make out Spot's figure leaning back casually against the post and lifting his bottle to his mouth. She couldn't decipher his face – it was too far out of her peripheral vision and the air was much too smoke ridden to make out a proper picture – but she was certain that he was smiling smugly and awaiting some kind of fireworks display. Audrey, however, was determined not to give him anything he expected. Therefore, she smiled sweetly at Jack, as though nothing was wrong. In actuality, she knew that nothing was wrong. Yes, she was sure it was only the newest shit Spot had cooked up to get under her skin.

Jack pulled at the collar of his shirt and then shrugged. "It's just some girl I dated a while back. No big deal."

From behind her, Audrey could hear Ray squawk, "So what? Every bartender should know how to make a fucking martini!" Audrey rolled her eyes and decided to not respond, for her retort would only be painted with annoyance. She was almost over her boyfriend's ex girlfriend and ready to move on to the next subject when Spot called out, "No big deal?!? You two screwed every day for a solid two months. Sometimes twice a day!" Her immediate thoughts were not pleasant, for imagining one's other comfortably rolling about between the sheets with another girl never is. However, she quickly put the nasty mental pictures out of her mind and decided to play off an uneasy feeling she might have been harbouring with a coy smile. She arched her left eyebrow, and in a teasing tone said, "Mmm...so the truth comes out."

"Yeah. Okay. FINE!" Jack said, directing his statement less to Audrey and more over her right shoulder, toward Spot. He returned his eyes to her and sighed. Loud enough for Spot to still hear, yet voiced soft enough to consider Audrey's feelings, he continued. "It was good sex. I'll admit that. But it wasn't anything meaningful or substantial. And it ended as it should have. I'm not with her now, am I? That's all that matters." He took another heavy swallow of his drink. "Are you trying to cause trouble?" Audrey overheard her friend hiss to Spot. She didn't see it, but she had a strong feeling that a hard nudge or slap of some kind accompanied the hissed reprimand.

Therefore, with a shrug of her shoulders and a wave of her hand, she put Jack's two-monther out of her head and simultaneously eased his mounting tension over the ordeal. She saw his shoulders droop slightly and his head tilt to the side. She indulged in what her cup had to offer her and mouthed a kiss toward Jack before turning her attention to her martini sipping friend. "Ray, love, did you buy those shoes you were telling me about?"

"Of course, I did. Why wouldn't I?" Ray mused, waving her white Styrofoam cup around as though it were a true, slinky martini glass. At that time, the band onstage slipped into a catchy, upbeat number. Audrey regarded it with captive interest for a few seconds before latching onto Ray's arm and with a quick and almost unintelligible "Dance with me!" she dragged Ray, martini and all, towards the mass that had gathered near the speakers.

Jack breathed a sigh of relief once the two were gone. He scratched the back of his neck and sat his beer down on the floor at his feet so that he could freely fish around in his pocket for a cigarette. When his fingers ran over the familiar sized box stashed away on the inside of his coat, he pulled it out and tapped the box twice on his palm. Cigarette retrieved from it, he held it between his lips and held his lighter's flame to it. Nonchalantly, Spot eased over to him, rubbing his side. "Ow. Fuck," he said, continuing to massage his ribcage. "That girl's got one hell of an elbow on her. I can't win."

"What the hell were you doing?" Jack mumbled, the cigarette balanced lightly between his teeth impairing his speech. "Huh? What the hell was that? Bringing up Mallory Sedgewick when Audrey was standing right there. You're an asshole, Spot. A real asshole." Jack removed the cigarette from his mouth and jabbed Spot in the arm with an accusing index finger.

"I'm not an asshole, Jacky-boy," Spot said in defense of himself. "Sides, what should she care?" He pointed toward Audrey, holding hands with Ray as they slowly merged into the crowd in the middle of the floor when he lit upon the word "she." "Or you for that matter?"

"Ha!" Jack snorted. He removed the cigarette from his mouth and began using it as a small baton with which punctuate his statements. "Because she's my fucking girlfriend, and she has feelings. Feelings that I don't take kindly to hurting. Do I fucking talk about Jo in front of Ray? Do you for that matter? No. You just don't do that!"

Spot scoffed and pointed at the lit cig in Jack's hand. "Gimme one of those." Jack fished around in his pocket again and produced one, which he shoved into Spot's hand. Spot placed it between his lips, lit it, and then took a pensive drag from it. "Well, you said it yourself, Jack – She's your girlfriend. Not Mallory. Exactly why me talking about something long gone should not be a huge problem." In a manner similar to Raven's, yet with not quite the force, he elbowed Jack in the arm. "What's the matter with you tonight, anyway? You're usually not so touchy."

"I'm not touchy," Jack spat back. He took another sip of his beer. "Besides Ray would kill you for the mere mention of Jo's name in her presence, you know it. So I don't wanna hear nothing more about it."

Spot laugh loudly and removed his cap from his head to run his hands through his hair. Placing the gray cap back atop his head, his eyes were still lit with amusement. "Excuse me, Jack. But I think that fucking Two Month Mallory is a weeeeee bit different from what me and Josephine had."

"Oh? How so? You're not with Jo now, are you? Same difference."

Spot gave Jack a knowing look and took a full two swigs from his green beer bottle. He then cleared his throat as though he were making an announcement – a formal proclamation of sorts. "Ha," he started, "Miss Josephine August. A solid three year relationship, complete with a marvelously delightful little promise ring and other such accomidations. Yes – Jo. The same girl who singlehandedly, I might add, built, changed, and then tore down my entire world. The experience from which I am still recovering, and not quickly recovering, mind you. Versus...Mallory Sedgewick. Pretty to look at. Two month lay. End. Over. You see what I'm talking about? The comparisons just don't match up, do they Jacky-boy?"

"Yeah, yeah," responded Jack.

Much contrary Jack and Spot's knowledge, Audrey was leading Ray through the stagefront floor moreso than to it. Holding tightly to her hand, Audrey led her high-heeled friend through an intricate maze of bodies and broken beer bottles to the opposite side of The Spanish Moon. Ray was quite surprised when she arrived farther from the stage than when she had begun. "Where did you lead me?" Ray asked when the two stopped near the entrances of the restrooms, far away from the promised crowd and most of the noise.

"I don't want to dance. I lied," Audrey told her, biting her bottom lip. "I need a pick me up." She padded the inside of her waistband. "You want?"

"God, more weed Audrey? You pothead," Raven teased with a grin, but shook off the offer. "Nah, no thanks. Vodka is my weapon of choice tonight. Smoking up and drinking never did mix well with me. So, unless you've got a strange desire to see me vomit my intestines up, keep that shit away from me."

"Your loss," said Audrey with a lopsided smile and a one shouldered shrug. She pointed over her shoulder toward the entrance of the women's bathroom. "I'm gonna go in there. It's much more, um, discreet I guess. Besides, all the other potheads are probably in there lighting up so I'll blend in like that." She snapped her fingers at "that," and then turned toward the restrooms.

"Alright. I'm gonna head back, I guess. Don't stay in there too long. I don't want to have to march back over here to find your ass."

"Okay," Audrey answered. "Just don't tell Jack!" she called out behind her as she pushed through the bathroom's swinging doors.

Ray watched her disappear into the bathroom and began to feel small pangs of guilt for letting her go in there alone. She was older and therefore, wiser, she thought, and warranted or not, Raven felt as though she were somewhat responsible for the girl's safety and well being. She took a taste of her martini into her mouth and swished it around, contemplatively. Swallowing it, she decided that Audrey was quite old enough to mind herself and that she didn't need or want someone to watch over her. That decided, she turned on her Jimmy Choo-ed heel and began to pick her way back through the throngs of head-bobbing twentysomethings. When she arrived back to Jack and Spot, she murmured an "hola" to the both of them and slipped her hands into Spot's back pockets seductively. Both men whipped their heads around in her direction, surprised to see her and even more surprised to see her alone.

"Ray," Spot crooned, "We were just talking about you, doll. Where'd you put the Audrey?" He looked around her and then turned to his friend. "Jack, it seems you've lost your girl."

Ray felt a pair of gray-blue eyes and a pair of brown ones turn to her expectantly. She felt pressured to come up with a sound answer. But Raven Tortulo was never one to crack under pressure. Therefore, she licked her bottom lip and put on her most nonchalant smile and said, "Oh, she's still out there. She saw someone she knew, and well, frankly, I didn't feel like standing there looking dumb while she talked. So, I just came back." Inwardly, she cringed, yet did not let a trace of it show on the outside. It was a lie, and Ray hated to lie. But she considered a lie that protected two of her friends, and very possibly herself, to be a necessary lie. However, before anyone could possibly even hint at questioning the answer she had given, she hastily switched gears over to a new line of conversation. "So," she cooed, more into Spot's ear, but loud enough that Jack could hear it perfectly, "What were you saying about me? How amazing I am? Gorgeous, even?" She lowered her voice beyond Jack's range of listening, and continued. "How about how good I am in bed? That thing I do with my tongue?" Ray, confident of the potency of her drawling voice and daring words, could tell that her last comment had gotten to her boyfriend because he sniffled loudly and shifted his feet three times.

"Um," he suddenly spoke up, his voice wavering perceptibly. "Jack, your girl's still missing. Shouldn't you be concerned about finding her? Maybe she's run off with someone else." The last statement he rattled off was almost immediately regretted and Spot exhibited his second thoughts about it by averting his attention to his beer instead of looking into Jack's eyes.

"I'm sure she's fine. I'm not worried about her. She's not going to run off with anyone. I trust her. That's what I do. I trust," Jack returned. He bit of the ragged edge of his right thumbnail and spat it onto the floor. Though he wouldn't admit it openly, Spot's words had cut through Jack and sliced open his thick skin to reveal an inch of vulnerability. Just where was Audrey, and what was she doing? He glanced around the room, taking in the multitudes of guys there who were better looking than he was, better attired than he was, richer than he was, and generally more appealing than he was. Should he go and look for her? Perhaps something had happened. Maybe she was being harassed by some drunken fraternity boy and was at that moment, wishing with all her might that he would come and rescue her. There was an angel and a devil on his shoulder. One told him to trust and leave her be, whatever she was doing. The other tugged on his heart more strongly and bid him to conduct a massive search for her and reclaim her to his side. He was in the midst of deciding which would be best and more correct in the long run when hear a low, sweet, and decidedly English voice say to him from behind, "Hey partyboy." He whirled around to see the object of his affection standing behind him, safe and smiling coyly at him in her usual manner. She stepped forward and scratched his stomach lightly. Jack snaked his arm around her waist and let it rest on her hip, pulling her in closely to his side. "Hey, baby," he said comfortably. He breathed a sigh of relief and warm contentment when she let her head rest against his chest.

"Did you miss me?" she asked, her voice rather slow – almost as though she were waking up from a full night's worth of sleep.

Jack attributed her strange inflection to her fatigue after another long day of school and work and therefore, thought no more of it. "Of course I missed you," he assured her and supported his claim with a lingering kiss on her forehead. "I was getting a bit worried about you though. I was scared you'd been kidnapped by some crazed Skittery fangirl or worse." To his worries, she only laughed casually and shook her head as though it were the silliest, yet most endearing thing she had ever heard. Audrey turned to face him, her arms looping about his waist loosely. Over the loudspeaker, Jack heard Cat Eye Blue's singer announce that the band was going on break. A shrill swirl of tinkling electric guitar flooded the room as a familiar prerecorded sound began to play in the band's place.

Audrey began to swerve her hips fluidly in time with the hypnotic beats, gazing softly into Jack's eyes as she did so. At first Jack only watched her with curious interest, pulling drags off of his cigarette and running this thumb along the rim of his mostly emptied bottle. He slipped his hand down her back and let it come to rest on its small. He sucked another mouthful of smoke and nicotine in and was just about to filter it outward when he felt Audrey take his face in her hands and pull it downward toward her. Her mouth met his and opened. Jack's taut lips loosened and he released the smoke into her mouth, secondhand. She took it in and then with a dreamlike expression on her face and the strobe lights reflecting in her dark eyes, blew it upward so that it clouded both of their heads. Soon, Jack found himself swaying along with her to the music. She took one hand from his waist and ran it through his hair, slightly disheveling it, and rested it on the back of his neck, her fingernails tracing light circles in the short hairs recovering from his month old haircut.

Jack brought his head down to hers, and let their foreheads touch. A lock of his hair fell downward and brushed along her temple, but she didn't bother to remove it. Instead, she slid her head slightly upward and then down, letting the bridge of her nose graze against his in a seductive Eskimo-like kiss. Her right hand, still at his waist, had worked its way under his coat and both of his shirts. She ran her finger along his back, just where the waistband of his jeans would have laid if not for her hand's presence. He could feel her hot breath on his neck. It smelled of rum and her strawberry lipgloss. With his free hand, he tipped her chin up and entreated her parted lips to draw nearer to his own. When they did not move toward him of her own will, he bent down to her in pursuit of the kiss he craved. But she did not surrender to him, and instead turned her head a few degrees to the side just as he was diving in for the kill. Discontented, yet willing to let her refusal slide, he settled for running his thumb over her soft bottom lip and calling her a tease.

"That I am," she responded in a smug, yet unknowingly smoldering voice that made him want to kiss her even more and even harder than he had set out to before. She lifted the corners of her mouth upward into a perfect grin that completely disarmed him. He pulled her tighter and grazed his lips over her cheekbone, stopping to let them linger and rest momentarily once or twice. He could feel the flutter of her lashes against his own skin and closed own eyes, letting the warmth of her body and the way she felt against him absorb into his long term memory. As the music spun into its cataclysmic crescendo, nothing else existed except the rhythm of their two bodies moving in perfect synchronization. Their chests rising and falling with shallow breaths and sighs. Gathering his gusto once more, Jack leaned over and attempted to have her lips accept his advancements. Instead of being welcoming or alluringly unwilling, Jack was instead met by stark avoidance. She withdrew her head, sharply drawing it backwards and away from him. She coughed and then backed out of his arms with one retreating step. "I've got to go to the ladies room," was all the explanation she offhandedly offered to him before once more disappearing into the crowd.

Jack stood frozen in his bent position, stunned by her strange and abrupt behaviour. He looked to Ray for some sort of womanly interpretation of Audrey's mood swing, but she was lost in Spot's mouth and unavailable to Jack. Not knowing what he should do, say, or even think, he threw up his hands and chugged the rest of his beer. After the bottle was emptied, he excused himself from Spot and Ray's company and waltzed over to the bar. Slamming the empty bottle on the counter, he gestured to the bartender and ordered another.

Audrey reached her destination as quickly as her feet could carry her without appearing suspicious. She pushed through the door of the bathroom and felt the cool rush of air conditioner and quieted nose filter around her. She was more than grateful for it. Stopping in front of a mirror and leaning over the sink, she looked at her reflection. It stared back at her, hollow eyed and pale. It was ghastly to her eyes, and she cringed at her own appearance. She cringed in disgust of her face and the dizzy nauseated wave that crashed down upon her once more. Audrey let her head drop and she stared at the dingy white of the sink below. Turning on the faucet, she wet her hands under its cold stream of water and then washed them thoroughly with soap. After rinsing them, she shook off most of the water and then used the few remaining drops to dampen her neck and forehead. Sighing, Audrey ran a hand through her own hair, seeking to somewhat mold it into shape and make herself appear less of an unpresentable mess. Another dizzy spell shot through her head and down into her stomach and she gripped the sink's edge for support. In her efforts to chase it away, she rubbed her eyes and unintentionally smudged her eyeliner, marring her appearance once more. She chided herself for doing so and attempted to clean around the edges of her now raccoon-like eyes. Cleaned up and looking halfway decent, she took two gulps of water from the sink and composed herself before walking out the door and across the building to Jack. Upon reaching him, she let her guard down briefly and her face twisted into a pained expression.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked. His voice mostly showed concern, yet Audrey also detected in it a hint of questioning bitterness for leaving him hanging only moments previous.

"I...uh," she stumbled over her words. "I'm not feeling very well. Would you mind terribly if we left?"

"No, no, that's fine," he reassured her. With a quick glance to Raven and Spot, still engaged in exploring each other's tongues and tonsils, he pointed in their direction and added, "I don't think they'll mind if we cut out early. Come on." He took her hand in his, his long fingers and wide palm enveloping hers was a great comfort to her and she started to feel better just by his slight gesture. On their way to the door, they passed by their two entangled friends. Jack tapped Ray on the shoulder and shouted to her over the wailing guitars that they were leaving. Ray only managed a wave of her hand. And with that, the two exited The Spanish Moon. When they were gone, Spot broke his seemingly perpetual kiss with Ray and drew back his head to ask, "What's wrong with them?"

Ray gave him a sly look and said, "Okay. Promise you won't say anything?" Spot nodded in response. "When we left a while back, she smoked up in the bathroom before she came back. But don't tell Jack!" Raven pointed a red fingernail at Spot's nose to punctuate her statement, and then giggled. "Don't tell Jack," she repeated.

Spot laughed and showed her the three fingers representative of "scout's honor." He scratched the side of his face contemplatively. "Hmmm...so the British Witch isn't perfect. That's a comforting thought."

Jack and Audrey stepped outside and were immediately befriended by the cool night air. "You wanna walk or take a cab?" Jack asked.

"We can walk," she told him. "The cool air makes me feel a bit better."

"Alright," was his answer as he smiled and led her away from the bar. "So where's the rest of your gang?"

"Well...Nicole is studying. Maths test again, I believe. Lute's on a date with DANNY DANNY DANNY. I'm not kidding. That's how she refers to him. April got stuck working a double shift. Poor thing – Friday's are like hell at the restaurant and a double shift doesn't make it any better." She sighed. "Frankie was supposed to come, but I don't know. I think she has a new job or something. We get stuck with Ray all the time because I live with her and she's conveniently dating your best friend. It's like a package deal." She grinned at Jack. When he teasingly wrinkled his nose in response, she stuck out her tongue in retort. Laughing, Jack put his arms around her shoulders and squeezed affectionately.

They walked for a ways with no words passing between them before Audrey broke the silence. "Oh, and Jack? Thank you," she said.

"For what?" was his confused response.

"For being so lovely and so you."

On their way home, Jack led Audrey through an empty park, lit only by a few desolate lamp and the moon. She looked around at the swing sets, trees, and benches and mused, "Ah, here we are, taking the proverbial stroll through the park. Jack, we've become so cliche and so suddenly. I don't know if I can handle it. This must stop!"

"Ha, ha," Jack replied. "Well, you can stop right there, but I'm going to keep going. It's a shortcut. If we go through here instead of the streets around it, it'll save some time and some walking."

"Ah, I think I'll just follow you."

"Wise choice, grasshopper," Jack stated and took her hand in his, swinging it a little as they walked. "Do you wanna go back to my place or am I takin' you home?"

"Whatever," Audrey replied. She lifted up her head and gazed into the night sky. She could faintly make out a few constellations despite the hindrance of the bright city lights. After a moment's inspection, her vision blurred and the specks of light intermingled with the blue black sky and began to swim before her eyes, so she closed them. "Jack," she said in a pondering voice, "Why do you love me?"

His reply was simple. "What do you mean why? I love you because of who you are. That's why I love you."

Audrey wrinkled her nose as she turned to face him. Walking sideways, she said, "Ugh. That's a cop out answer if I ever did hear one."

"Cop out answer? What the hell are you talking about? It's a real answer." He shook his head. "Cop out. Okay...okay, Audrey you want a better answer, I guess?" She nodded in response. Jack licked his lips in thought and then turned around to face her, dropping her hand and walking backwards. "Okay. Well...hmm...I love you because your clothes never have to match because they only come in red, black, or white. I love your silly obsession with safety pins and that messy bun that you wear on the side of your head because it's fallen down and you don't care to fix it. I love how you insist upon peppermint tea, but it's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard of." To this, Audrey scoffed and pushed him. "Ha! You're pushing me now?" he teased her. "Well, that's fine, I guess I won't continue if you're gonna abuse me."

"I'll stop," she shot back.

A smirk came across his face and he rolled his eyes. "Uhhhh...lemme see. What else? Oh! I love how I can tell it's an off day for you because you're drinking coffee instead of tea. I love that you scratch my stomach or side to wake me up instead of shaking me like any other coldhearted woman would. I love how you grumble when I try to wake you up any earlier than twelve. I love that your bangs are too long and you have to constantly brush them out of your eyes. I love how you run your fingers up and down the back of my neck whenever I'm doing something or you happen to be sitting beside me. Want me to keep going?"

"Yes."

"Alright. I love that you prop your feet up on my lap whenever we eat anywhere that has booths. I love your feet. You have perfect feet."

"Why thank you."

"No problem. I love that you have a fucking different pair of earrings for each of the three hundred and sixty five days of the year. I love your cute little accent and how you say "strawberry" and "knickers" and "cheers" and "bollocks" and what else? Oh! "Quid." And "fag." Yeah, that last one especially." He chuckled and waggled his eyebrows at her. "Are you tired of being gushed over yet?"

"Not in the slightest, boy," she said with a coy grin.

"Argh. Fine. I don't know how much more I can come up with, but I'll try. Just for you. I like how you call me boy. I love how you can go in the bathroom to brush your teeth and then come back with the most brilliant idea I've ever heard of for a painting or whatever. The bathroom's the weirdest place ever for coming up with inspiration, but you make it work. I love how you say profound things and then immediately go on to the next thing because you don't realize that it's actually profound. I love how you sit on my couch and eat every apple I have in the apartment in one sitting. I love the way you trace little hearts and other shapes on my back or chest when you think I'm sleeping. I love the way you laugh with your mouth open because you aren't afraid of what you look like. In the same token, I love the way your mouth forms that perfect little "o" when you're surprised or whatever. You know this is making me feel like a complete ass right?" He turned around and walked along side of her once more.

"Yes, and I like it," she said, reclaiming his hand as her own. They crossed through a playground area full of sand, making canyons of footsteps where they'd trodden. She held onto his hand and let him lead her.

"You would," he retorted, leaning over to kiss her forehead. "Um...I love that you make me sleep in even though it kills me to be in bed later than ten. I love that you crochet like a little old lady except with headphones. I love that I have to rescue you when you can't reach something or you need something opened or you forget things....when you break something or make a mess with the blender. I love that things are never good or cool...but "grand" and "lovely." I love that you think everything has a colour. Everything. I love that you always have to know every option before you make a decision. I love that I don't have to worry that you're running around on me or that you don't like me. I love that you tell me exactly what you think when asked and that you don't spare me your bluntness. I love how you apologize when you finally do apologize. I love that when I ask you to go out or do something with me, you never say no. I love that you're consistently late but you always show up. I love that you're walking here with me right now instead of doing whatever else you could be doing. And that's it. I'm spent. No more, Audrey." He walked a few more steps but then slowed to add, "I do wish you'd tell me where we are going."

"Back to your apartment," she told him, and then under her breath added, "You big dork."

Jack eyed her with pretend malice, but held his tongue. He veered left, and taking her with him, stepped out of the park and back onto the sidewalks of the teeming city.

Once they reached his brownstone walk up, Jack climbed into the shower while Audrey brushed her teeth, borrowed one of his shirts to sleep in and stripped down to her knickers. She lied to wait for him, and when he finished, he crawled in beside her, smelling of soap and skin still warm and damp from the hot water. She loved how he smelled directly after he finished showering, and therefore, pulled him into a tight embrace once he was in grasping distance. They fooled around a bit, rolling around in the bed, skin never breeching more than a centimeter's distance. However, both finding they were too tired for anything further, they broke away from each other and settled upon sleeping. Jack was the first to fall completely asleep. Lying on his stomach, his back rose and fell, and Audrey lightly traced shapes upon his skin just as he'd said she would. Sleep had never come easily to her, and it was harder reached when she was away from her own bed.

She finally drifted into a fragile slumber, just deep enough for vivid dreaming. Her mind wandered to such a vivid dream, so real and feasible that her subconscious did not have a hard time convincing her that it was actually reality. In the dream, Audrey found herself back at her father's little house in Brighton. Her father was absent, lost somewhere in the house, yet Kit was there. Both she and him were entertaining two of their slightly cousins who were visiting from Dorset- Stephen and Rachel Taylor. Steve and Rachel's brother Phillip was also present, but choosing to remain in the next room, where Audrey assumed her father was. As she and Kit conversed with their female cousin about an old house that she wanted to see, which was located at the end of town and set to be torn, Audrey silently chided herself for leaving Jack and returning home. Kit kept up an avid conversation and promised Rachel that Audrey would take her to the house, yet Audrey only half listened and schemed up ways that she could get back to Jack.

She had to leave. She had to get away from Rachel, elude her somehow and get on a plane. She could meet Jack before sundown. She had to meet him before sundown. She could call him to tell him to wait for her at the airport. Yes, that's what she would do. She would get up and call him. She rose to go into the kitchen to use the phone, and as she did, Rachel announced that Audrey must take her to see the house that moment. That she would get Phillip because he would want to go along with them and Audrey could wait in the car for them. Rachel exited the room to seek out her older brother and while she was walking away, she told Audrey that she wanted to go into the house to poke around a bit, so they might be there a little longer than previously expected. Kit piped up cheerily and said that going inside would be a novel idea. When Rachel was gone, Audrey shot her brother a malicious glare and feverishly wracked her mind for a way to get out of the car ride, the trip to the old home, and the exploration of it. She looked outside and noticed it was overcast. Yes! Maybe she explain to Rachel that it was certain to be raining and that going out in such weather would not be wise. But her cousin was the stubborn type and was almost sure to not listen. Audrey sat down in the old, worn red armchair and held her head in her hands. What was she going to do? She had to get away from her house and her cousins to get back to Jack. It had become an absolute necessity and as she pondered how she was going to accomplish it, she had never felt more desperate or helpless.

When she awoke and her vision slowly unclouded, Audrey rubbed her eyes and forced them to focus. The first solid thing she could make out was a piano. Jack's piano with sheet music messily splayed across its top and bench. To her great relief and surprise, she had not left at all, and was still in his room with Jack faintly snoring beside her. She rubbed her feet together under the covers and then, carefully reached back with her left foot until her toe brushed against his warm heel. She blinked several times and pinched herself to be certain. Yes, she truly was still in his apartment, lying in his bed and dressed in his t-shirt. As she silently thanked God for it all having been a horribly realistic dream, Jack restlessly fidgeted in his sleep. Suddenly, he rolled over and casually slung an arm around her waist. Audrey lied there in silence, warmed anew by the closeness and comfort of his body. If she had tried her hardest, she could not think of time in which her heart had been so swollen with joy. It was the most perfect and complete feeling she had ever known. Within moments, she had fallen back into sleep, and was slumbering away peacefully and dreamlessly.

.oooooooo.

"Nothing like the smell of oil paint and turpentine substitute to wake you up in the morning, I say. Most people wake up to the smell of coffee brewing. What do we want with that? No. We're art students – we're hardcore. We prefer the lovely nose burning smell of chemicals." Kylie smirked and then tipped her half filled thinner jar up to Audrey in a playful toast. She aloofly dumped the rest of the contents of her Turpenoid tin into the jar and sighed. Audrey leaned on her painting stand and watched the girl detachedly swirled a lump of titanium white into her puddle of ultramarine with her new palette knife. She'd set her less-than-substantial classroom easel up next to Kylie's as usual and the two busied themselves by chatting about absolutely nothing as they mixed, blended, painted in, smeared, and wiped at the canvases set before them. "I'm going to make another crappy painting," Kylie announced in a resigned tone, "But I figure I'll just keep putting more paint on to make it look like I'm working so I'll get a decent grade. I'm not going to spend all kinds of time trying to make it look beautiful because it won't, and I'm going to get a "B" anyway. I know it. I never get anything above a "B." But that's okay because a "B" is good enough to make my father happy."

Audrey sat down on her stool and impishly grinned at her friend. She had long had Kylie pegged as the "I just want to make pretty things to hang on my wall" type. These types of people usually only disgusted and annoyed her, but surprisingly, Kylie did not. She amused instead of bothering like all the others. Besides, Audrey told herself, with Kylie so blatantly unserious about pursuing anything art-related after undergrad, there would be one less young hopeful in competition for Audrey's prize. What Kylie had become comfortable in being was nothing that she could ever let herself slip to. It was perfectly fine for her friend to aspire to nothing, but she had so many dreams, hopes, and goals at stake. Though Kylie seemed quite content with her station in life, Audrey knew she would never be that girl. No matter how carefree and appealing it looked.

Audrey spied an undeniable eyesore on her canvas in the form of a few hideous specks of dried paint gathered into a lump of sorts in the top right corner. She cringed and scratched at it with her fingernail in an attempt to remove it without irreparably damaging any other part of her painting. As she picked at it, she complained to Kylie. "I can't wait until the day," she said, "when I can afford to not save my paint in between work times. Maybe then I wouldn't get those stupid little chunks of dried paint all over the canvas. When I'm not so broke and get a little money, that's the first thing I'm going to do – buy a lot of paint. And not the cheap kind that's mostly linseed oil. No, I'm going to switch from student grade to professional grade so it won't dry out so damn quickly. Look at this!" She held out her hand palm up to reveal a small pile of multicoloured shriveled flecks of hardened paint chips. "This is a disgrace. Bloody fucking hell..." She dusted off her hands and concentrated all of her attention on removing the last of the textural imperfections. While she was absorbed in her task, she did not notice the teacher standing behind her, surveying her painting with a tilted head and narrowed, scrutinizing eyes.

"Audrey, come stand back here for a moment," Gaither Pope said to her. "I think you can get a better look at it from a distance."

She pulled her head out of her painting, and rising to a full stance winced with the anti-delight that painting examination time had brought on. As she was told, she backed away from her work and stood at Gaither's side. He stroked his chin while the two examined what she had painted in silence for a good two minutes. Then Gaither offhandedly asked, "Do you sketch before you start these?"

"Well, um, no," was Audrey's tentative answer. "You see," she continued, "I never liked drawing all that much and I was never much of a planner when it comes to anything creative. I prefer to just grab a brush and go at it with the paint, correcting my mistakes as I move along." She hoped this answer would suffice because it was frankly the only one she could come up with.

"I see," came the contemplative reply accompanied by more chin stroking. He waited a few agonizing moments before adding, "Well, I think that perhaps you should. It would help you with the structure of your painting – help you to establish an underlying skeleton. This is your final painting of the semester, and it should show a mastery of everything you've learned this term. I know that what you choose to paint is minimalist and kind of hard to think about in a formulaic way, but just like any other picture, it has to have a backbone." He whipped out a small black covered sketchbook that he'd taken to carrying on his rounds about the class room and took the pencil from behind his ear. With it, Gaither Pope began to draw out a few rectangles meant to be representative of canvases.

While he talked about the importance of primary sketch work, Audrey stole a glance over the top of the book in which Gaither was drawing out planes and hazy shapes to see Kylie, perfectly blonde and dressed in her new Bebe jeans that her student loans had given her the freedom to spend money on. Pleasantly living off of those mounting loans and her parents' money, she was languidly painting away on a picture of a flower she had chosen abstracted. There was no motive for her to be abstracting the flower, other than she wanting to do use blue because it was her favourite colour and she liked tulips and wanted to paint a tulip. No, Audrey thought, less than halfway listening to Gaither's lecture on the often overlooked significance of making colour charts before one was to start a painting. There was nothing wrong with Kylie. Yet there was always something wrong with her. She was certain that no amount of sketching or planning out charts with premixed paint samples could fix whatever was wrong with her. Why did there always have to be something wrong with her? Why was she, and not silly flower-painting Kylie, pulled out to criticize and lecture?

Standing there, only partially aware of her mentor's droning, she became indignant and childishly hurt. What did Gaither Pope know? He was, after all, only an adjunct and not a true professor. She would show him, she vowed, stopping to gaze down at his hastily rendered drawings to nod her head and feign interest. She would prove to him that she was not the one in need of instruction by working doubly hard as she had been working before and producing something truly remarkable. When she was finally let alone and free from the guidance of the older man, Audrey slumped down on her stool and stared blankly at the canvas that formerly had held so much of her attention. She was tired already. The day had just begun and she was exhausted by all the work she had to do and the thought of trying to find a way to fit in more work on her paintings, enough shifts at work to pay rent, classes, and a boyfriend. It left no time for enjoyment, really, but moreso, no time for sleep. Audrey sighed and closed her eyes, feeling her lids heavily rest on her burning eyes, stinging from her mere three hours of sleep the night previous. "Sleep is optional," she told herself. "You can do this. It's easy. You just have to want to."

"What was that all about?" she heard Kylie ask.

"I wish I knew," was Audrey's answer.

.ooooooooooo.

Jack let a handful of dull, dirty quarters roll off of the palm of his hand and into his girlfriend's. He watched with amused interest as she slowly fed them into the coin slot for the dryer she sat atop. "You're moving slow motion today," he remarked with a smile. "Something wrong with you?" She shook her head in dissent. Jack shrugged and opened the door to the neighbouring washer. "You sure? You're not your normal whirlwind self," he said as he balled up and fed several pairs of jeans into the washing machine.

"I'm just tired, that's all," she told him in a low, drawling voice. "You done with this?" She pointed downward at the still open hatch of the dryer. Jack affirmed that he indeed was with a nod, and using her plaid converse clad foot, Audrey indolently kicked close the door and pushed the button to start the machine. She let her back relax into a curved slump and listlessly blew a large pink bubble from her wad of chewing gum. When the view outside of the laundromat's large windows failed to amuse her, she turned her attention toward Jack and watched as he fed a continuous stream of wrinkled jeans and t-shirts into the open door of the washer. "Is that all you wear?" she asked with a curled lip of disapproval.

"Isn't this all you see me in?" he returned, to which she shrugged. "Well, then," Jack continued, "I guess it's all that I wear."

"Oh."

"Oh? Come on, can't you say anything slightly more interesting or enthusiastic than that?"

She paused to gaze off into the distance while she scanned her mind for any tidbit of interest or the slightest fraction of enthusiasm. Still staring at a large chip in the paint above the doorway, she deadpanned, "I was almost married once."

Enthusiastic, it could hardly be described as. Yet, it caught Jack's interest. He stopped throwing clothes into the machine and held his rumpled black tee in his hand. His eyebrows perked up and his brown eyes snapped upward to meet hers. "Really?" he asked.

"Yeah. I was," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Why almost?"

"Well, it didn't work out. It was over a year ago, so I try not to think about it."

Jack let this comment slide. He did not want to pursue it for fear of the painful memories it might dredge up for her. Nor did he press for more information because any vivid description of his fawn-eyed girlfriend with another man would be certain to make his jealous stomach turn. She blew another bubble and popped it with her finger. In normal Jack Kelly style, he took this as enough closure and clearance to make a swift change in topic of conversation. Placing his favourite white button down shirt into the washer, he asked, "So, how's school?" It was a safe question, free from any possible answers involving ex-boyfriends or the like.

"Ugh," she replied, wincing.

"Ugh?" Jack repeated. "School is 'ugh'? That's not a description. That's something you say when your drop your fork into the garbage by accident and have to fish it out."

She shrugged and passed on any detailed answer by saying, "I don't wanna talk about it."

"Okay," he said. "I take it I should perhaps put this down as a topic not to be brought up or discussed for a while. Am I right?"

"I'd say that was a safe bet," she answered, tonelessly.

"What's wrong with you today?" Jack shook his head and slammed the washing machine's door. "You've usually got more life in you. Even when you're dead tired, you don't seem so...I dunno, dead, I guess." Eyebrows arched, he expectantly awaited her answer. What he got was more of a three act play. She let her head fall to the side and rest on her shoulder while staring at him and scowling. Then she straightened up and shook her head violently as though trying to exorcise some sort of bad spirit. Fluffing her hair, she plastered a large grin upon her face and then batted her eyes.

"How's this?" Audrey asked in an emphatic, lilting, and overly perky tone.

"Scary," Jack came back with.

A look of mock horror momentarily overtook her expression of faux joy, but the grin bounded back marvelously. "But we're doing laundry," she said in a melodramatically joyous voice. "What could be better than doing laundry? Nothing, that's what. I'm so happy to be sitting here on this clothes dryer watching you stuff your dumb tshirts into that washer there. Just the thought of it makes me tingle." She sighed deeply and dramatically faked a blissful shiver. "Oooh," she whispered coyly. "It's better than sex." Her mouth twisted into a pondering frown and then she added, "Well, maybe not better than sex. But right up there just the same!"

"Stop it," he told her wearily, as though reprimanding a child.

"No!" she shot back. "I can't stop it. It's just so wonderful!" At her outburst, several other patrons of the laundromat turned toward her and started to stare in impolite ways. Yet, she remained unphased- perched on the dryer and brimming with joy. "Look Jack!" she cried. "We're washing clothes!" Audrey threw her hands up into the air in a flourish and kicked her feet in the manner of a thoroughly wound up four year old delighted by the promise of candy.

Jack's disdain melted into laughter with the site of her devilish grin and eyes alight with mischief. Unable to help himself, he tripped over her alluring charms and let them win him over as they had done a thousand times before. Grinning madly, he took her in his arms and embraced her with a tight squeeze. "I love you," he whispered into her ear in between laughs. "So much."

A/N: Ugh. Sorry it took so bloody long to update...but you see...I was making Rush soundtracks and updating everything else, and it kind of just got lost in the shuffle. Therefore, I give you something long to read to make up for my tardiness. This chapter might seem a little fluffy and almost meaningless, and it completely is. But there's quite a purpose for it. Yeah, you heard me – there's some significance in this fluff. I've long been disgruntled with the relationships of most couples in romantic stories. It seems so often that the story details the rise and then immediately the fall and resolution of the pair's relationship with no substance or happy, comfortable period in between. It's like a triangle. Start of slowly...rise, rise, rise...hit the peak of absolute romantic culmination...and then start to downward spiral....which resolves itself in either a break up or make up. I'm determined not to do that.

This chapter inspired by a few actual occurrences, some brilliant RP sessions, and my Rush soundtracks, which make my little heart swell and twist whenever I listen to them. Chapter update celebrated with jello and a nap.

Review, please?

Thanks to all who read this and all who review, especially:

Raeghann: As requested, here you are. No poetry like smut in this chapter, but there is near-smut. Which is almost as good. More Moon is slated to start work on soon. Did that sentence make sense? No. (It's this chapter...It's killed me.) Okay, in English – I'm going to start working on more Moon soon. That is, after I write another chapter of Winter. Sigh. I've been reading From Dream to Dream and liking it. (Of course, I do...you wrote it.) Anyway, I tried to leave a little review saying "read and enjoyed" just to let you know that I was still reading and enjoying, but was being mean the two night that I tried and would not let me review in general. Therefore, just to let you know, I am still reading and enjoying very much so.

LadyRach: Get on the Rent wagon. It's a good place to be. Yes, Audrey is amazed by Jack, though she sometimes doesn't want to admit to herself that she is. (Hmm, maybe you should be worried about her.) I've given up on hating the Ray!musie for her shoe collection. She takes this hate personally and refuses to let herself be written. Now, I've resorted to offering her a new pair every chapter so she'll behave. Mmm...now you see what Audrey got from April? Tsk, tsk. In April's defense, she's not evil. She's just a bit misguided and is in general, a pretty good friend and person. I feel the need to stick up for my characters even though they're blatantly fictional.

and to all those who probably read but don't review, such as:

Emu, Run, Ravy, Mav...I still love you even if you don't feed my ego. I'm just glad you care enough to read.