Chapter 24: "Living"

Monday came fast, dragging behind it a wave of assignments, readings, and everything Lily had pushed to the back of her mind over the weekend. But she didn't feel the same dread she usually did. Maybe it was the way the bonfire glow still lingered in her thoughts or how Eli's compliment had echoed all night like a song lyric stuck in her head.

"You looked… still. In a powerful way."

She wasn't sure why those words meant so much. But they did.

By Tuesday afternoon, Lily was seated on the quad lawn, sketchpad balanced on her knees, earbuds in, pencil dancing across the page. The sky above was an unusual kind of blue—clouds scattered like sugar, the sun not too harsh. Her drawing wasn't of anything in particular, just lines and curves, but it felt right. Peaceful.

"Don't look now, but I think someone's sketch-stalking you," Jess muttered, dropping beside her with a burrito in hand.

Lily tilted her head. "Sketch-stalking?"

"Camera boy. He's been walking in loops like he's trying to 'accidentally' run into you."

Lily's eyes scanned the quad. And sure enough, there he was. Eli. Camera hanging against his chest, hair messier than usual, a lanyard in one hand.

"Should I wave?" Lily asked.

Jess shrugged. "I mean… unless you want him to keep orbiting you like a satellite."

So Lily waved.

Eli's face brightened like a switch had been flipped. He jogged over, a little awkward but charming in that effortless, not-trying-to-impress way.

"Hey," he said, slightly breathless. "I didn't want to interrupt. You looked… focused."

"I was," Lily replied, setting her pencil down. "But it's okay. What's up?"

He held out the lanyard. "I got an extra photo pass for the art showcase this Friday. Thought you might want to come. Not, like, as my date or anything. Unless… I mean, unless you want to."

Jess gave Lily a subtle kick under the blanket.

Lily ignored it and smiled. "I'd like that. The pass, I mean."

"Cool," he said, running a hand through his hair. "And… if you ever want to take pictures together sometime, I'm doing a series on artists. Like, behind the scenes stuff."

Jess leaned in. "You should see her when she's painting. Total chaos. It'd make for a dramatic photo."

Lily blushed. "Ignore her."

Eli grinned. "Chaos is good. Chaos is real."

He waved and walked away, nearly bumping into a bike rack on the way. Jess smirked.

"He's cute. In a 'please don't trip on the sidewalk' way."

"Stop."

"I'm just saying. He sees you."

Lily didn't reply. Because maybe, for once, she believed it too.

---

Wednesday morning was slower. Rain drizzled down outside, tapping the windows like a rhythm only the sky understood. Lily had art history at 9 a.m., but she felt heavy in a different way. Not sad. Just still. Like her emotions were simmering just beneath the surface, waiting to boil over for no reason at all.

She pulled on a hoodie, tied her hair into a bun, and grabbed her sketchpad.

The classroom was only half full when she arrived. The rain had clearly convinced half the campus to stay in bed. She didn't mind. She liked the quiet.

But halfway through the lecture, as her professor droned on about postmodern minimalism, her mind drifted.

To Joe.

She hadn't thought about him in days—not really. But now, for whatever reason, his face floated to the surface. That lazy smile. The way he used to say her name like it tasted good. The first time he asked for her number. How she'd felt a little like the main character.

Then, the slow fade.

The ghosting.

The vague excuses.

The silence.

She bit her lip and blinked fast. No. She wasn't crying in art history over a boy who barely texted her back.

After class, she didn't go back to her dorm. She wandered to the library instead, finding a corner near the tall windows, setting up her sketchpad beside a cup of warm tea. She drew the rain. The shadows. The way the sky looked when it was both beautiful and threatening.

Maybe it was fitting. Life had been both lately.

---

By Thursday afternoon, her mood lifted. Jess dragged her to a campus cafe after classes, and the two shared a slice of chocolate cake while laughing about their weird T.A. who once used a cat meme to explain cubism.

Lily's phone buzzed just as they were leaving.

Eli: Got a spot reserved for us at the front of the exhibit. Bring your sketchpad if you want. See you at 6 tomorrow?

She smiled.

Lily: 6 works. I'll bring the chaos.

---

Friday evening, Lily stood in front of the mirror, holding her hairbrush like it held all the answers. She'd picked a soft lavender blouse and black jeans, something simple but clean. She hesitated, then added a thin line of eyeliner, dabbing a bit of gloss.

No costume. No mask.

Just her.

Eli met her outside the gallery building, his camera in hand, a beanie pulled low over his curls.

"You clean up nice," he said, holding the door for her.

"You, too. You almost look professional."

"Almost."

The exhibit was a mix of everything—paintings, photographs, sculptures made from soda cans and even one terrifying mannequin wrapped in caution tape. Students buzzed with excitement, pointing, posing, scribbling in notepads. Lily hadn't realized how much she missed being surrounded by art like this.

They wandered together, talking softly. Eli snapped a few photos of her when she wasn't looking, then showed her one—a shot of her from the side, studying a sculpture, pencil behind her ear.

She looked… grounded.

Not pretty. Not polished. Just present.

"I love it," she said quietly.

"Good," he replied. "Because it's the first in the series. I want to call it 'The Art of Being.'"

She paused. "You're serious?"

"Completely."

She swallowed hard. Her chest felt full again.

Not with anxiety. With something else.

Hope.

---

Later that night, they sat on the campus steps, sharing a cup of hot cider. The air was crisp, stars blinking above like old friends.

"I used to think I needed to become someone else to be enough," Lily said, watching her breath cloud in the air. "Skinnier. Cooler. Quieter. Whatever fit."

Eli didn't say anything. He just listened.

"But lately, I've been thinking maybe I've been enough this whole time. Just… buried under a lot of noise."

"You have been," he said simply.

Lily looked at him. Not like he was a lifeline. But like he was someone who saw her swimming and didn't try to drag her to shore. Just swam beside her.

And maybe that was all she needed.

That night, back in her dorm, Lily pulled out her sketchpad and flipped to a blank page. She drew herself—not on a cliff, not in a storm.

Just walking.

Head up. Hair loose. Camera flash behind her.

Living.