***

Rowan: you busy tomorrow?

no, why?

Rowan: wanna come to an art show?

"Evan," I quickly dropped my phone behind my computer and focused my attention back to the video call. "Who are you texting? I've never seen you smiling like that."

Damn your creepy perceptiveness, Maddy.

"I'm not texting anyone," I feigned a confused frown, my heart beating slightly faster, "sorry, what were you saying before Maddy interrupted, Alex?"

We'd been video chatting for about an hour, and my mind had been preoccupied by how nice the dinner with Rowan had been earlier in the night.

Maddy scoffed, and unfortunately Alex wasn't on my side either.

"I was just talking about my evil BioChem professor, but now I'm curious too- who was it?"

"Literally no one."

"That's obviously not true."

"Someone just sent me a funny meme, that's it."

"Ooh, send it to us,"

God dammit.

"I already left the page,"

"Well, who sent it?"

"You guys are actually being insane right now."

"We just don't want you to replace us, Evan," Maddy said dramatically.

"Nobody could replace you guys."

"The longer you don't answer us the more interested we are in who sent you the meme." Alex answered.

Lucy looked torn between amusement and anxiety, as she was lightly biting her bottom lip while her eyes darted among us.

"It's just a friend from class," I said, glancing at the time to see if I'd be able to make an escape. 1 am.

"Ooh, a friend from class? Why don't you introduce us?" Alex's tone was suggestive and I rolled my eyes, yawning.

"I gotta go to sleep guys,"

"-me too," Lucy piped up before Maddy or Alex could, "I have my first final tomorrow."

"Shit I haven't even started studying for my finals," Alex groaned, "but I can't fucking wait for break and to see you guys."

"Evan, when's your break? Let's go snowboarding."

***

I couldn't remember feeling less interested about any class ever. No, it wasn't because of the conflict theory essay I'd been assigned at the beginning of class or the reading quiz we'd have on Wednesday.

It was because I was going to an art show with Rowan in the evening, and it wasn't just any art show, but his mothers.

He'd conveniently mentioned that part after I'd already agreed to go with him.

Not like you would've said no if you'd known.

"So I was thinking yeah, I'm middle class here, but if my family had the same amount of money in a different state on either coast we'd definitely be lower class." I nodded absently, as my partner Aaron... or was it Andrew? As Andrew tried moving our required discussion forward.

I looked over his features again, he didn't look like much of an Andrew. Fuck I forgot his name.

"But also if I moved to like, Alaska, I guess my social class would be a bit higher. Maybe there's like a micro social class standing within each state, but in context to the whole country it's a bit different."

He stopped there, waiting for me to speak, his leg bouncing anxiously. And I'd forgotten the discussion prompt.

"Yeah, that totally makes sense," what'd he even say? My eyes moved to the whiteboard at the front of the lecture hall, trying to find where the discussion question was written. What is your social class compared to the social class of the people who you surround yourself with? "I guess it's the same for me too,"

My mind wandered to Rowan's massive house with its towering stone pillars and spacious teal interior.

"I think most of the people around me have a bit of a higher social class..."

Rowan's mother had gotten that house by selling her art... she probably could've moved to Italy and painted there if she wanted. But it seemed her husband's addiction had kept them both where they were.

"But I guess the higher classes have tough problems too..." My face heated, what does this have to do with the prompt?!- what the fuck are you even talking about-everyone has problems. "Sorry, I'm pretty out of it right now." I said to my partner, who shrugged, looking at the clock on the wall. Two minutes.

"It's Monday, I get it." He started packing his books back into his bag, and I leaned back in my chair.

What would I wear? How would I act? Rowan's mother had already seen me once- unfortunately when I'd fallen asleep in her living room, but that was before things... escalated? Progressed? Would she even know about any of it?

I was considering skipping my English class after Sociology ended. What good would it do me if I'd be distracted the whole time anyway?

One o'clock finally came, and I was the first one out of the classroom. I passed what used to be a green lawn, now covered in soft snow, and got to my English class. I couldn't just skip. Maybe I'd talk to the professor, tell her I didn't feel well...

You can't lie for shit. Just go to class.

***

"So you're going to an art show with Rowan?" My mom asked from the doorway as I tossed clothes out of the way in my closet.

"Yeah," I answered distractedly, pulling out an emerald green sweater and staring down at it with a frown. Was a sweater appropriate attire for an art show?

"I didn't know you liked art."

I set the sweater aside, looking through my few button ups, trying to ignore the unsettling reminder they brought me of the last time I'd worn one.

"Who doesn't like art?"

I found a black collared shirt and quickly slipped it on before pulling the sweater over my head.

"You know what I mean, I didn't know you were into it enough to go to an exhibit."

I changed into a pair of black jeans and went to check the time on my phone.

"Well, no, we're going to support Rowan's mom. It's her show... shit, I'm gonna be late."

"Evan, you can't go dressed like that!" I glanced at my mom before looking down at my outfit quickly,

"What? Why?!"

"Because you'll steal the attention away from all the art- you look amazing darling,"

"Mom-"

"You'd look amazing in anything though so I guess the outfit won't matter,"

She clearly enjoyed making me as uncomfortable as humanly possible, but after laughing for a moment at my reaction she stepped away from the door to my room,

"Go ahead Ev, have fun."

"Love you," I said as I left.

I made it to the location downtown that Rowan had sent me with exactly two minutes to spare. I tilted the rear-view mirror, brushing a curl from my eyes and making sure my teeth were clean.

A few groups of people were walking into the small white building, which was sandwiched in between a winery and a stationary shop.

Rowan: i'll be in the front once you get here.

coming in right now

I locked my car and quickly crossed the street, following a group of five into the building. I felt my nerves strain a bit and rubbed my wrists behind my back. The interior was lit with a soft white glow shining on each canvas spread throughout the building. I counted a little over twenty paintings, ranging in tiny ones to some that were bigger than me.

"Evan," I felt a light touch on my arm, "glad you made it. You look great."

Rowan wore a gray collared shirt, with the sleeves rolled up halfway exposing his toned forearms. His dark hair was combed back though there were still some hairs lightly tousled as if he'd run a hand through them a few times.

"Thanks," I felt my face heat at being complimented already, "uh, thanks for inviting me, you look really good too."

I really wished I was better at returning his compliments without losing control of my words, thoughts, and prepared greetings. His hand on my arm had only added to my fluster.

"Thank you," his hand stayed, and I looked around us. Everyone seemed to be a bit older, but held themselves with significance. Some were sipping wine, courtesy of the small bar at the back end of the room.

"There's a bar?" I blurted out, not because I was interested in it, but because I wanted to break the silence that Rowan always seemed to enjoy prolonging.

The corner of his mouth lifted as he looked at the bar and then back to me,

"You interested?"

I felt my skin blush further, hating myself for choosing the bar as my first conversation topic.

"No, no sorry- I wasn't implying I wanna get drunk at your moms art exhibit- I guess I'm just surprised I didn't think that's something they have at something like this-"

Rowan chuckled lightly, before lowering his voice,

"Relax, I get it. She started giving out free wine," He leaned close to my ear, his voice lowering more to a whisper, "free wine leads to happier people who buy more art."

I nodded, overly aware of how close he was and the heat I felt from his proximity.

"Right," I said, smiling back at him as he pulled away.

Rowan's hand traveled down my arm and lingered for a quick moment, before he let go, his eyes gleamed with something I didn't catch as they turned towards the exhibit. The building felt much warmer than it had a moment earlier.

"Wanna check it out?"

I cleared my throat, before nodding.

"Yeah, let's."

Rowan led me to the first painting, which had different shades of pink brushstrokes under dark, winding branches.

"So she's an impressionist," he motioned toward orange highlights through the leaves on the canvas, "they focus on the motions of light, like right here."

"The orange adds a ton, it looks great."

"Right? I like this one a lot."

"Wait, you have a tree like this in your backyard, right?" I remembered how the pink leaves had looked like clouds, in the trees that complemented the garden beautifully.

Rowan looked at me, a kind smile forming across his features, before turning to face me. His gaze rested easily on my own features in interest.

"You remember that?"

I felt my own lips turning upward and met his eyes,

"Yeah, I mean I only saw it for like two seconds, but it was really pretty."

Rowan's eyes stayed on mine for a moment before he turned back to the painting, his smile lingering.

"She mostly paints things that make her happy, but it sometimes varies based on her emotions."

Rowan explained each of the paintings to me as we walked, pausing at some for longer than others. They all had vibrant colors, each canvas bursting with energy and life. That was until we reached the last painting.

"I actually... haven't seen this one." Rowan's tone seemed a bit startled, his eyebrows stringing together closely while his eyes narrowed. The painting was dark, with blue and purple tones in what I guessed was the sky.

There were black brush strokes on the left of the painting, depicting what looked like a large bridge extended over a dark body of water, but the sky remained the focus. My eyes trailed down to where the name of the painting was depicted.

Dusk

I looked back to Rowan, who'd turned his attention away from the painting as a tall, dark-haired woman approached us.

Rosie Williams had a polished black gown on and her long, straight hair was pulled back into an elegant ponytail that reached her waist.

"Evan, thank you so much for coming," Rosie wrapped her arms around me, hugging me with comforting warmth. "So Rowan's showed you all of them then?" She asked when pulling away, looking fondly towards her son.

"Yeah, we actually just got to this one," I motioned towards the dark canvas in front of us, and she turned, a small smile crossing her face as she eyed it.

"Yes, this is actually my latest work, I used quite a different palette than the rest of them, but I thought it'd be an interesting ending piece." I nodded, looking at Rowan who'd glanced at the painting again before looking at his mother with a distracted smile.

"It's beautiful, I mean- they all are." I said, motioning towards the rest of the room. "You're incredibly talented."

"Oh, you are just too sweet dear," Rosie rubbed my shoulder affectionately before looking towards her son. "No wonder Rowans taken a liking to you."

Rowan gave her an exasperated look, and she laughed as my cheeks reddened. I smiled nervously, looking for something to say to divert the awkward energy around us.

"Uh, what inspired you to paint this one?" I asked her, nodding towards 'Dusk'.

Rosie's eyes seemed to glaze over as she thought, her fingers reaching to lightly graze against her cheek.

"I think it came to me in a dream."