Fearless (The Story of Samantha Smith #1) (7 page)

“Do you think he’d invite me?” Romeo asked sheepishly.

Kamiko smacked him. “Shut up, Romeo!”
 

I gave Madison a pleading look. “Do you hate me?”

For a second, I was sure that she did.
 

But then Madison’s lips relaxed into a smile. “Did you think I was that into him?” She shook her head. “I know better, Sam. Yeah, he’s hot. But I saw those girls melting all over him. Did you think I was going to be jealous if you liked him too?”

“Yeah. Sort of.” I examined my fingernails and the peeling black nail polish. “But I totally don’t like him.”

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” Romeo said theatrically.

“Whatever,” I scoffed. “He’s a total man-whore.”

Madison leaned over and gave me a big hug. “Oh, Sam. You were worried over nothing, There’s tons of hot guys on campus. I’m not going to obsess over one. Now eat a peanut butter cup. Sugar and fat cures all ills.”

I hugged her back. “Thanks, Mads. I thought you were gonna kill me for sure.” I grabbed a handful from the bag.

“Nope. But if you eat the last peanut butter cup, I will!”

Romeo grabbed for the chocolates in my hand. “Gimme those, glutton!”

I dodged expertly. No one was getting my peanut butter cups!

We still had a few minutes before everyone had class.
 

“So, Kamiko,” I asked, “how come you’re not an art major? Your drawings are amazing.”

She pulled her knees to her chest and sighed. “My parents are paying for college. They want me to be a doctor.”

“Isn’t it weird how money can be a trap sometimes?” Madison asked.

“I never thought of it that way,” she sighed. “But my older brothers and sisters are doctors or software engineers. I don’t have any choice.”

“Don’t you feel like your talent’s going to waste?” I asked.

“Sort of. But I owe my parents. They worked really hard so I could go to a good college. I can’t disrespect them by throwing it all away.”

“I get it.” It didn’t make me feel any better. “But if I was as good as you, I don’t think I’d be studying accounting.” Kamiko was so good at drawing, I worried she really was throwing away her
true
talent. “Romeo, what’s your major?”

“I’m doubling in Art and Theater. Between the two of them, I’m sure I’ll be out of work on a regular basis. But heck, I’ve always wanted to be a barista, and I hear Starbucks has a great health plan.”

I felt the weight of our futures pressing down on all of us. I looked at my newfound friends and saw the stress and fear tightening around our throats. Except for Madison. She seemed impervious.

What happened to college being the launch pad to our bright and wonderful futures? We were all paying dearly to ensure our future success and prosperity. We should’ve been jumping for joy. Not drowning in a blue funk of worry.

Madison stood up. “Come on, you guys! That’s years away. We should be enjoying this amazing weather. Besides, we’re late for class!”

That afternoon, we all had separate classes. I was sitting in Sociology when Romeo texted me halfway through class.

Me & Kamiko r going to the campus art museum after class. Wanna come?

Yup,
I texted back.
Where is it?

Meet you at the fountain in 30.

K.

I didn’t realize there was a campus art museum. That sounded fun. Even if I was destined to be an accountant, I could enjoy myself for now.
 

The Eleanor M. Westbrook art museum was huge. One of the signs going into the galleries said that Eleanor had married a prominent Hollywood movie producer in the 1940s. They had retired to San Diego with their fortune. Eleanor had outlived her husband, and upon her death, donated a ton of money to the university.

Romeo guided us around the museum. He was familiar with many of the artists, and told us about them as we went from room to room. I’d never heard of most of them, but the paintings were beautiful.
 

Kamiko had her sketchbook out the entire time, and made dozens of tiny pencil drawings of the different paintings, or drew the various sculptures. She was
so
good.

“I can’t get over how many talented artists there are that I’ve never even heard of,” I marveled. “So much beautiful work.”
 

We stood in front of a huge painting of cliffs and the ocean after a thunderstorm. Sun rays shone between cracks in the clouds. It kind of reminded me of the view I’d seen when I was driving to school, except cloudy and darker. It was so realistic, I almost thought I felt the chill air and smelled the ocean.
 

Who had painted it? I read the placard.

Spiridon Manos (1952—
   
)

“Shrouded Paradise”

Oil on Canvas

1973

130” x 55”

“Whoever this Spiridon guy is,” I said, “he’s a freaking genius. He was twenty-one when he painted this.”

Romeo read the description below the placard. “I’ve never heard of him. But you’re right.” Romeo half-laughed. “He’s really, really good.”
 

Romeo was clearly impressed. Kamiko was too, based on the intensity in her eyes while she sketched the painting. “The composition is amazing,” she said.

“Composition?” I said. “It’s like a photograph!”

“Yeah, but look at the shapes of the clouds, how the light seeps through the cracks between them. Clouds don’t stay like that all day. He had to pick the perfect moment and capture it before it was gone. He probably made a small oil sketch on location and finished this large canvas in the studio.”

“How do you know all this stuff?”

“I read about art whenever I’m not studying medicine.”

“When do you read? You’re always watching Cartoon Network,” Romeo joked.

Kamiko ignored him.

My depression returned. Between my crappy drawings this morning, Kamiko’s genius sketchbook, and this guy Spiridon’s über-genius painting, I sucked hairy ball bags. “I’m fooling myself, Romeo. I’ll never be this good.”

“Aw, cheer up, Sam. Van Gogh didn’t start painting until he was in his late twenties.”

“Really?” That was hard to believe. But I felt a hopeful chill rush up the back of my arms anyway.

Romeo’s eyes goggled at something behind me.

“Yup, and Kandinsky didn’t enroll in art school until he was thirty,” Adonis said.

I whipped around. I caught Adonis sliding the tips of his index fingers up the backs of my arms, hence my chills. Cocky bastard. “What’re you doing here?”

“Looking at paintings.”

“What do you know about Kandinsky?” I asked haughtily. I didn’t even know who Kandinsky was, but I wasn’t telling him that.

“I know that Kandinsky gave up a career teaching law and economics to enroll in art school, where he excelled. I also know that he wrote extensively about the spiritual aspect of art. He even theorized that there was a direct connection between color and sound, that specific colors corresponded to specific musical notes.”

How the shizzle did everybody know so much about art except me? I fought to hide my awe. This guy didn’t need me stroking his ego. Instead, I stared into his eyes. I’m sure a tube of expensive blue paint was named after them.
 

Why was this guy getting so far under my skin? I didn’t like it. He may have known art, but he was still a player.

“So,” I blurted. “What happened to Skylar?” I sounded about thirteen years old when I said it, but I swear I didn’t mean to.

Adonis nodded and grinned. “She’s not into art.”

“What about that girl from life drawing class?” I sniveled. “She seemed like she was into art.”

“If you mean she was into me,” he grinned his cocky grin, “then yeah, she’s into art.”

My eyes flashed. “You’re no work of art.”

“Oh no she didn’t,” Romeo murmured. He backed away until he stood behind Kamiko. “I think they’re going to fight.”

Adonis chuckled, cool as could be. “Do you need a whetstone to sharpen those claws?”
 

“I don’t know,” I sneered, “are you done talking about your harem?”

“You brought it up.”

I had. Why was I turning Superbitch all of a sudden? I blamed Adonis. I was doing fine until he showed up and molested the backs of my arms. Perv. “Are you stalking me?”

“I was already here. I saw you guys walk in twenty minutes ago.”

“Fight, fight!” Romeo whispered.
 

I glared at him. “I heard that!”

He ducked behind Kamiko.

Adonis smiled at me. “So, you like the museum?”

That caught me off guard. He wasn’t allowed to change the subject and act like a sane person. “Uh, yeah, it’s great.”

“We’re lucky to have such an amazing art museum on campus. There’s some paintings in here you’re not going to see anywhere else in the world. You like landscapes?” He motioned toward the cloudy beach scene I had been admiring.

“Yeah, it’s great.” I blinked and looked at it again. It really was amazing. “I feel like I could throw my leg over the picture frame and step right into it.”

“It’s a view from near where I saw you this morning on the PCH,” he mused thoughtfully.

“No wonder it looks familiar! How’d you know that?”

“I grew up around here.” He shrugged.
 

I’m sure he added the shrug on purpose, because it drew attention to his impressive shoulders. My belly warmed as I remembered the rest of what lay beneath his V-neck t-shirt in detail. I’d had plenty of time to scrutinize exactly how his shoulders attached to his breathtaking chest and muscled back during Life Drawing.

Was the room shrinking around me? Woo. Heat.
 

“The weather rarely looks like this.” He no longer sounded flirtatious, but rather as if he was remembering. He motioned toward the painting. We both turned back to face it simultaneously. My shoulder brushed against his elbow. “Usually the wind blows the storm clouds out to sea in the afternoon, if we have any. You can’t beat San Diego weather.”

My shoulder tingled where it had kissed, I mean rubbed, Adonis’ elbow. Standing in front of the painting, I felt like we were a couple out for a nature hike and we had stopped to enjoy the view.
 

I almost fell for it. Not.

He probably took all his girls out for “get back to nature” hikes. This guy knew what he was doing. He wasn’t going to enchant me with his pathetic charms.

Time to go. I turned around. Romeo and Kamiko resembled a couple watching a romance flick at a movie theater. Romeo bit his lower lip and clutched Kamiko desperately. Kamiko swooned, her sketchbook dangling forgotten at her side. All they needed to complete the tableau was a bucket of popcorn and the flickering lights.

“Enjoying the show?” I sneered. “Let’s go, you guys.” I strode toward the exit without checking to see if Adonis followed.

Chapter 6

I didn’t have anymore classes that day, so I said my goodbyes to Romeo and Kamiko outside the museum. I stopped at the Student Bookstore and was able to buy my textbooks, which weighed a ton. I headed for the parking lot.

Thankfully, the jackhole cars bookending my VW this morning were gone.
 

When I opened my car door, the smell of coffee curdled cream punched me in the face. It had baked in the oven of my VW all day. Shit. I’d forgotten about that.
 

I wished I had a crane to turn my VW on its side. Then I’d shake the coffee out. Otherwise, the coffee was going to slosh against my feet on the drive home. I needed a plan B.

The likely solution was about 200 napkins, or some good rags, to mop up the mess. Unfortunately, I didn’t have either.

If I had notebook paper, I would’ve used that. But all I had was my laptop. Groan.

Options. I could find the closest dining hall and ask to borrow a case of napkins. Or the nearest restroom, where I could wind out an entire roll of paper towels. I’m sure someone would call campus security on me and accuse me of grand theft blotto.
 

Maybe I could sop it up with dirt? The parking lot was surrounded by hedges. But then I’d be stuck with coffee flavored mud. Why did that make me think of Rocky Road ice cream? Gross.

A motorcycle drove up and stopped behind my car. “Hey, Samantha.”
 

I knew those arms. “Adonis.”

He flipped up his visor. “Need some help?”

Yes. I mean no, not from you.
“Sort of. Remember I spilled my coffee all over my car this morning?”

“Yup.”

“I’m debating whether or not I want to drive home without cleaning it up. I don’t have enough napkins.”

“How big was your coffee?”

“I don’t know, gallon sized?” I couldn’t help but laugh at my predicament.

He took off his helmet and brushed his hair back. Dimple alert. Why were dimples so damn sexy? He got off his bike and inspected my car. “That’s not too bad.” He climbed inside and sat in the driver’s seat.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

“We need to air this thing out.”
 

We? Why did I like the fact he said we?
 

He leaned over and opened the passenger door. Then he grabbed the sopping napkins I’d thrown at the spill this morning and chucked them out of the car. “I’ll pick those up later. Right now, we need something to absorb everything. We can get some paper towels from the dorms over there.”
 

Hey, that was my idea!
Sort of. “I thought the dorms were private.”

“So?” He walked his motorcycle into the open space next to mine.

“What kind of motorcycle is that?”

“It’s a Ducati.”

“I thought all real men rode Harleys,” I said defiantly.

He scoffed. “If I want to sit on a couch, I’ve got one at home. Most Harleys don’t make it past one-ten. One-twenty on a good day. I’ve taken my Ducati up to one-seventy-five.”

“Is that fast?”

He threw his head back and laughed. “Is that fast? You wanna find out?”

I was suddenly nervous. “Now?”
 

“No. Later,” he smiled. “When it’s dark. No traffic. Fewer cops.”