Read Online The Artist and Me by Hannah; Kay - Free Book Online Page B

confusion at his words but he merely chuckled. “You’re wondering how I knew? The idea was practically written across your forehead when I asked you to go check in on her.”
    I chuckled in response. “Thank you, sir.”
    He grimaced a bit. “Enough with the sirs, Mr. Grant. You’re making me feel old.” It was a joke, but I could tell that he was serious at the same time.
     
    * * * *
     
    That day when I got off work, I met with Mike and Krista for an early dinner. My fingers drummed anxiously across our table as I waited for them. I’d ordered our old standbys—for Mike, a loaded cheeseburger with bacon and onion rings, for Krista, a grilled cheese and fries, and for me, a plain cheeseburger with fries and a side of coffee. I’d chugged down two cups of coffee by now and was halfway through my third. Fun fact about me—I’m a stress drinker.
    Since my little chat with Mr. Swift, my plans for Friday night became more real. I wasn’t the smoothest when it came to the ladies, ask anyone. I’d been on exactly two dates in my life. One had resulted in the girl literally crying and running to her daddy’s arms. Okay, we had both been seven and it had been more of a school yard playtime than a date, but hey… And the other girl had ended up puking her guts out over the Ferris Wheel at the county fair. Naturally this left me feeling a bit rattled. After all, I really liked this girl. My friends liked this girl. I worked for her father.
    Ugh . I felt nauseated.
    “He’s on his third cup,” I heard Randy saying and almost laughed. He knew us as well as our parents did.
    Krista sat down first, biting her lip. “Lucas, is something wrong?”
    I looked at Mike, sipping on the fresh, cool Dr. Pepper with a concerned frown. “I think I have a date with Julie on Friday.”
    Mike grinned. “Awesome, man. What’s the problem?”
    Krista swatted his arm. “He’s obviously nervous, pig.”
    “Nervous about what?” he retorted.
    She rolled her eyes. “Mike, drink your Dr. Pepper.” She looked to me. “Lucas, that’s great. Don’t worry about it. Everything is going to be great.”
    She was so optimistic. I wish I could believe her.
     
    * * * *
     
    I came home from work Friday afternoon and took a shower. My nerves were numbed by the hot water, and I exhaled into the steam. I needed to calm down or this wouldn’t work at all. I melted into the water, attempting to let go.
    When I walked into my bedroom, clad in a pair of boxers and a by-now-semi-wet dark gray T-shirt, I discovered my little sister waiting for me on my bed. She was wearing a pair of jeans and a white tank top, eyes sparkling over at me. “Hey, big brother,” her chipper voice called, tossing her legs over the side of the bed to look at me.
    “Clara,” I responded, crossing the room to pull my jeans from the closet. “What’re you doing in here?”
    She laughed at me, standing slowly. “I’m about to go out with Frank,” she answered with a shrug. “Just thought I’d wish you luck.”
    I turned my head to look at her from where I stood holding my worn blue jeans in my hands. “Thanks.” It was sincere because of the tone in her voice, a departure from her normal sarcasm.
    She smiled, walking over. “You’ll do great.” She pulled me into an unexpected hug, tiny frame squeezing mine for a fraction of a second before my fingers attacked her stomach in a malicious attempt to tickle her. “Hey, dweeb!”
    I was beginning to think maybe the nickname ‘dweeb’ was one of affection.
    I stood in front of the mirror in my room, appraising my reflection. It was five-fifty. I’d put on jeans and a white T-shirt, pulling a black button-down shirt on top, leaving three buttons undone—a scandal at school. My hair was messy, but it looked good that way, so I didn’t change it. I was going sans glasses, rocking my contacts like a pro.
    My stomach was even in check. I exhaled, looking at the clock again. Five-fifty-three.
    Groaning, I