I blinked. “Uh…”
“I think it’ll help you.”
“What will?”
When she explained it, my eyes widened, and I was pretty sure my heart stopped too. She delivered the idea so casually that it seemed like we were having a chat about the weather. Not…that.
After she finished her spiel, all I could do was stare at her with parted lips. My fingers had curled together on my lap as I soaked in every word. I knew why she suggested it, why she told me it could help me. But…
“I don’t know, Professor Ambrose.”
“I know.” She stood and walked around her desk, sitting in the chair directly next to mine and reaching for my hand. “I’ve noticed how hesitant you are lately. You never used to be so in your head, and I know there’s a lot to think about. Why not do something about it? Take control.”
Swallowing, I shook my head. I confided in her some time ago that I felt I’d lost control of my life, which was why I nosedived into rock bottom and done what I did. She’d known me since freshman year, seen my struggles, and was always willing to help. “I’ve been trying to get past the block, but—”
“Have you though, Adele? I know you, dear. You’ve always been dedicated no matter the situation. What you went through, what you’re still going through, is a lot. It will always feel like somebody is holding you down because they want to see you fail. But it’s up to you to push back and find your place in the world again however you can. I know a lot of students, and nobody else here at Bentley has the strength and perseverance to get through the magnitude of horrors like you can.”
“I don’t see how your suggestion helps do that,” I admitted honestly.
She patted my arm. “If you agree, you’d be putting yourself out there for yourself. Not for anybody else in that room. It’d be about accepting that you’re worthy of that kind of attention. You’d be fighting what your brain wants you to drown in. And you know what else? You’d be living the very art you create. Remember the piece you submitted to the Bentley Art Journal? It was of the girl posing in front of a mirror, but she was—”
“Faceless,” I whispered. I’d called the piece “Curvy” and it was no more than a few outlines of a woman being judged by the crowd.
“All your pieces are faceless,” she noted pointedly. “Perhaps it’s time to put a face on your paintings, dear. Really put yourself in the art that so many people stop and stare at. Because it isn’t the last name they see when something of yours is displayed. It’s the meaning.”
Inhaling slowly, I locked eyes on the floor and tried sorting out my thoughts. Even if I wanted to say no to her offer right then and there, she wouldn’t accept the answer. She was right. I needed to think about it. As for my art… “I feel like faceless creations are what I’m known for. It wouldn’t feel like me if suddenly I started painting people who were…”
“Complete?” she offered. “Have you considered the reason for that is because you’re afraid of what the faces would look like?”
I swallowed.
“They’re you. Each one. Aren’t they?”
I said nothing. “May I suggest something else?” she asked, squeezing my arm.
I nodded.
“Do something crazy. Something spontaneous that you’ve always wanted to do but were too afraid of. I’ve found that facing those fears, no matter how big or small, helps when it comes to chipping away at what the conscious might not tell you the real problem is.”
My lips parted to speak but closed when one image came to mind. One person. One thought that I’d had thousands of times. It sent sparks down my body, fire forming in the back of my neck, and my heartrate skyrocketing.
I thought about Theo.
“Sounds like you know what you’re talking about from personal experience,” I managed to say.
Her laugh was light. “And by the flush in your cheeks, it looks like you have a pretty decent idea of where to start. Take my advice, Adele, and truly consider what’s being offered. I know it won’t be easy, but I assure you it will be worth it without a doubt in my mind.”
I knew she was right, but it didn’t stop every internal response in me to argue against it. I’d been judged on far less things but putting myself out there like she was insisting would be the same as opening me up to free fire on a battlefield.
The only difference was that I’d welcome it, choose it, which meant I could anticipate everybody else’s next moves. Maybe that was better, because it meant I’d be the one to move the pawns and take back the control I felt was stolen from me for so long.
“I’ll think about it,” I offered quietly.
When we bid goodbye, all I could think about were her words. But they weren’t the only thing lingering in my head. And when I showed up at my apartment, I couldn’t help but stare at the man, and dog, sitting on the couch waiting for me like fate was offering me a hand.
I’d made my decision.
Chapter Ten
Theo
Her unblinking eyes traveled from me to the television where Animal Planet was showing something about dog breeds. Hell if I knew why she loved watching it, but there were seventeen episodes recorded, so I figured it had to be interesting enough.
“I prefer the serial killer documentaries you make me watch,” I noted, grabbing the remote and turning it off.
My words snapped her out of whatever train of thought she was having. She set her belongings down on the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s for Ramsay.”
“The murder shows?”
“Animal Planet.”
I blinked, noting the pink settling into her cheeks as she reached down and pet the dog in question. “It calms him down if the TV is left on for
