after that.
I push my face against the iPad and hit my forehead a few times, grumbling under my breath. As much as I hate to admit it, Pete might be right. I have got to loosen up some.
I watch the clock tick over another minute and nibble on the inside of my cheek. Start small… I could, well, stay up past my bedtime. It’ll be okay if I get a couple minutes less sleep.
My teeth slide off each other, and I hiss as I accidentally take a chunk off the inside of my bottom lip. Ick, I hope that heals quickly.
To keep myself from further nervous-tick-caused injury, I scroll to my journal app. My journal is more or less a bunch of incoherent babbling and doodles. Art is the only place I allow chaos. It feels okay, somehow, to be however I want without worrying if it’s right or wrong. It just is, and I like that.
I take my stylus out and pull up a color code generator. I’ll let randomness pick what colors I use tonight.
#E826A4, #58EE44, and #D0CFCF. Unconventional, and I smile as I set them inside my empty page for use. The clock up top says it’s 10:29. Oh my gosh, I’m going to do it. I’m going to stay up past my bedtime.
My hands start to shake, and that’s super ridiculous. I’m excited to break a self-imposed rule. I really hope I’m not crabby tomorrow. If I am, I’m blaming Pete.
I let out a small laugh, starting the sketch template I use for drawing girls. Realism has never been my forte, and I prefer the illustrator look anyway. I can exaggerate features, which is fun. It’s… against the rules.
10:30.
My light should be off. My iPad should be down. I should be cozied up with my fluffy pillows and way too expensive sheets. My mind usually drifts away, my body knowing that I don’t have time for tossing and turning.
An itch springs up my spine, and I cringe and squirm, trying to rid myself of it. Just focus on drawing, Candace. You got this.
I get the basic shapes of a face—the imperfect circle and the curved lines I run through it so I know where to put the eyes, nose, and mouth—before the clock hits 10:31.
“I did it!” I exclaim to my fan, because that’s the only darn thing here. A victorious grin hits my lips, and I flip to Pete’s name in my contacts.
10:31! I’m up past my bedtime. See? I can rebel.
The response bubbles dance almost immediately after I send, and my stomach dances with them at the thought that he’s answering right away. Kind of nice he doesn’t see my name and roll his eyes and ignore.
A whole minute. I’ve had sex that’s lasted less than that, so props.
I make a face, and a shiver goes up and down my spine. Visuals… oy.
My thumb hovers over the keypad, but before I can respond, my Facetime bings, and Pete’s goofy face and mussed brown hair appears on my suddenly too-big screen.
“Nononono.” I shake my head hard. I’m in bed. No bra. Messy bun. Overnight zit cream in the crease of my nose and on my chin. I reject his call so fast my finger slides completely off the screen, then I toss the sucker across the bed like it bit me.
Okay, I stayed up. That’s my rebellion for the night. I’ll call him back in the morning… or some time when I’m dressed.
Careful to not touch the screen in case he calls again and my thumb accepts it, I pick the iPad up and set it in its spot next to my phone. I click my horse lamp off and cuddle under my sheets. If I’m not asleep by 10:40, I’ll start my meditation track.
The room lights up, and I peek above my duvet to see Pete’s face again. “Take the hint,” I lilt, hiding under my blankets. He can make fun of me all he wants when I see him Saturday. For now, he’s just going to have to deal with radio silence.
I roll over, keeping my head covered. Zach… that’s who I’m doing this for. I’m going to loosen up, get his number, fall in love, and have his babies.
After six minutes of Zach-channel and not much luck in the sleeping department, I turn on my meditation, ignoring that I have four missed facetime requests from Pete.
Candace
Zach is late.
Again.
The smell of paint and fun settle around me, and I nibble on the inside