“Wow. You’re really good, Tia,” he says, with genuine surprise.
“I used to draw a lot in my room. There wasn’t much else to do.” I shrug. “But drawing here, in the sun room, it’s so much nicer.”
He reaches up and spins his finger through one of my curls. “Are you hungry? I know how you get when you’re hungry.” He chuckles. “We want to avoid that before it happens.”
“Funny,” I sass back at him. “I am a bit hungry, though. I didn’t realize it was so late already.”
“Dinner is almost ready downstairs. If you want to come and eat with me?”
“That would be nice. I’m just going to wash up first. My fingers are covered in pencil shavings and charcoal.” I wiggle my blacked fingers in front of him to show him.
“A true artist,” he smirks. “I’ll be downstairs. I’ll wait for you.”
I scrub my hands until the water runs clean, then run a brush through my hair and touch gloss on my lips.
It’s just dinner at home, but I want him to think I’m pretty. It’s silly, but I can’t help it.
Downstairs, I walk towards the dining room and the delicious smells of roast and vegetables.
My mouth drops open when I walk into the dining room and see the incredible spread of food on the table.
“This is so much food—and so much effort,” I stammer, seeing the leg of lamb, roast potatoes and creamy mushroom sauce. Never mind the other bowls filled with colorful veggies of different flavors.
“I thought it would be fun to have something a little different,” he shrugs. Standing up from where he was sitting, hewalks around to the other side of the table and pulls a chair out for me.
My heart flutters as he pushes the chair in behind me, and I get comfortable. “Can I pour for you?” he asks, holding a bottle of red wine.
“Yes, please.”
I’m a princess, and he is my prince. At least I can pretend for a moment.
Andrei sits down again and smiles at me across the table.
His eyes are piercing and bright, so green I am reminded of the tropical leaves in the sunroom upstairs.
“Do you want a bit of everything?” he asks, leaning over and taking my plate.
“Yes, please. It all looks so good. I want to try everything.”
“Who taught you how to draw?” he asks while he slices lamb and puts it on my plate.
“I taught myself. I started by tracing pictures from magazines. Then, after practice, I could eventually just draw the portraits from memory.”
“Your detail with the shading is incredible, though. That’s not a skill everyone is born with. You have a natural talent. Didn’t you ever want to go to art school or study it?”
I laugh loudly. “I wasn’t allowed to go to college,” I shrug, wondering why Boris never let me go. Dad and I used to talk about it when I was little. He wanted me to be a doctor or a lawyer, and I wanted to work with animals.
But when I finished high school, Boris told me it wasn’t safe for me to go to college. He said it would be a waste of money.
At the time, I was so upset, but I just took his word for it.
How would it be a waste of money?
His comment doesn’t make sense.
“Would you have studied art if you got the chance to go?” Andrei asks, setting my plate of food in front of me.
“You’ll laugh, but when I was really little, I thought I could go to college and learn how to speak to animals,” I giggle.
