Chapter 43: The Art of Friendship

One thing that Nick had never cared for regarding Illyana Sanchez was the old, beat-up, red Jeep she drove. It was an accident waiting to happen and he was amazed that it was running after all these years. He often saw it sitting in Illyana's yard when he was a kid, and he assumed it was always just junk. Imagine his surprise when she got her driver's license and was tearing around Isla Del Kashmire in it.

She just never could let it go because it used to belong to her father, who had passed away shortly after she was born. It was the one last thing that connected her to him; Nick really didn't understand her need to keep it because he actually knew his father and it wasn't all it was cut out to be. It was horrible of him to think it, but Illyana was lucky she didn't know hers.

"Watch it!" he shouted as she barely made it past a yellow light. The seat belt didn't work either, so he folded his arms across his chest to feel more secure.

She didn't acknowledge his worry, but pulled up in front of the Metro Museum of Modern Art in Memosa Bay with a slam to the breaks and a cheery announcement of, "We're here!"


She had insisted that he let her do something for him in thanks for taking care of her the previous night. He maintained the opinion that it was what any decent person would have done but he missed Illyana's company, so agreed to join her that afternoon after she returned freshly showered and ready to roll.

He'd never actually been to the art museum, despite his interest in the subject. It was built when he was in junior high; his parents never took him and he was too busy trying to be a rock star to remember to visit on his own in high school.

"So what are we doing here?" he asked, nearly kicking open the passenger door and exiting as fast as possible.

"We are going to look at the art exhibits and then I am buying you lunch."

"So how is this not a date?" Nick wondered out loud as they walked inside. To the left was a gallery and he could see some promising paintings hanging on the bare white walls.

"It's not romantic," Illyana rolled her eyes and continued toward the gallery.

"Anything can be romantic," he argued, catching her swinging hand in his and interlaced their fingers, "See? I'm holding your hand. That's romantic."

She swiveled around and took it back quickly with red-hued cheeks, "I swear that you flirt with anything that has a heartbeat."


"You know, you make the cutest face when you're trying not to blush," he tilted his head and studied her while smirking. She just pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows to prove her point before marching ahead without a backward glance. He followed her into the gallery and she stopped abruptly. She didn't move for a moment, as if frozen, but then she turned around her lively eyes were round with excitement. It nearly took his breath away.

"Nick!"

"What?"

She drew closer with a smile spreading across her face, "You should do an art show!"

"Excuse me?" he choked out in surprise.

"I've seen your paintings and they are amazing! You could do an exhibition like have the coffee shop display them or—" She was winding herself up in excitement and seemed to have ideas come to her faster than she could speak. She snapped her fingers with a sudden clarity, "You should hang them at the Harvest Gala!"


"The Harvest Gala?" he repeated and raised a quizzical eyebrow.

The Gala was a yearly autumn exhibition in the city hall that doubled as a major schmooze-fest for Kashmire's elite citizens.

"Yes, since your father rubs elbows all the time with city officials, I don t see why you couldn't use the Gala as an opportunity to show your art."

"Okay there's a lot wrong with your idea," Nick replied, his expression was less amused than before, and Illyana opened her mouth to retort but he held up a finger and didn't let her interrupt. "One—my dad hates my art and would never use his power to allow me to embarrass him at a city event with something like an art show. Two—do you realize how bizarre it would be for a pre-law student to have an art exhibit?"

"What if you got your mom to convince him?"

His mother was more apt to entertain the idea, that was for sure. She didn't fully approve of his art school idea either but she at least hung his drawings on the refrigerator when he was a kid before his father took them down. "That's a big what-if."


"Also who cares if you'd be a pre-law student with an art show? It shows you're well rounded and you have outside hobbies not related to defending criminals, cross-examining a witness stand, or objections."

Nick smirked, "Are you just naming off things you know about lawyers from watching television?"

Illyana frowned but didn't confirm or deny that was the case.

Nick openly laughed, "You crack me up."

She didn't seem to appreciate being laughed at so cleared her throat and tried again, "It's a good idea. The only reason you don't want to do it is because I thought of it first." She had the audacity to stick out her tongue afterward which was reminiscent of how she ended all her arguments with him when she was a little girl.

"Fine. I'll ask about it, " Nick acquiesced to Illyana's delight. It resulted in her breathtaking smile returning to her face.

"Come on, there's more art and stuff to see," she held out her hand and raised her brows as if to say 'well, what are you waiting for?'

He took it with a bit of apprehension since she, not just a few moments before, had been displeased about him holding her hand. She was right, though, it wasn't romantic. It was the way she would hold his hand when they were kids when she tried to take him somewhere and didn't think he would keep up with her pace—a hard grip and vicious tug to pull him along. Illyana didn't know her own strength and no one would suspect it from her lithe build when she wasn't flexing.

She led him across the art museum, stopping in front of large canvases that caught her attention to ask him what he thought. It was kind of obvious that Illyana didn't really know much or have a great enthusiasm about art, and Nick had to explain negative space and contrast to her at one point when they appraised a series of paintings. He found he was appreciative, though, that she would take him there when she didn't have much of an interest in it herself.


They relaxed on a museum bench in front of a large, abstract but colorful painting to rest their feet after trouncing through exhibit after exhibit. He felt hunger grumble in his gut. It was probably about time for that lunch.

Illyana's dark, expressive eyes were searching across the large canvas adorned with streaks that looked almost as if they were melting. It was in contrast with the sleepy, nearly uninterested expression he had observed on her when looking at the previous works. Nick observed her as she studied it and found himself losing thoughts of food very quickly. He could feel his heart positively thumping against his rib cage as he watched her consider the brush strokes and the color palette, taking it in and finding a new appreciation for it all, evident by the grin subconsciously pulling at the corners of her lips.

He'd been attracted to many women in his life, but never the sense of pure adoration that he felt toward Illyana in that moment.

"Hey Illyana?" he asked, scooting a bit nearer to her.

"Hey, whoa what?" she turned and was slightly alarmed by his sudden close proximity.

"What do you think of me?"


She didn't seem to understand what he was asking. Her brows knotted together—to try and figure out what he wanted to hear. Honestly, he wanted her to confirm that he wasn't conceited or immature, that he wasn't a bad person, and he hoped she would want to know him again. He could count on Illyana to always tell him the truth; she had a history of not holding back concerning her opinions of him. He already knew he wasn't her type but he could at least try to be better. If she saw him as a better person then he'd feel like he was worthy of her friendship and this wasn't just them hanging out because she felt like she owed him; because if it was, then they'd just drift away again after they left the museum and he couldn't abide it. He couldn't let her slip away yet again.

"Um..." she said just to fill the silence as she studied his earnest expression, "In what context?"

"As a person."

She seemed relieved, and uncrossed her legs "Oh, well you're pretty decent."

He couldn't mask his disappointment at her assessment.

"We don't really know each other anymore, Nick, I'm probably not the best person to ask," she said after seeing his downcast expression. He knew it shouldn't affect him so much but he felt very disheartened to hear those words of truth.


"I want to know you again," he quietly admitted and hoped she would feel the same.

A moment of silence passed between them before he heard her say, "Well, I got a few tattoos since the last time we hung out."

"I saw the dragonfly one," he replied with the start of a smile, "But I thought butterflies were your favorite?"

He recalled her hobby of catching butterflies and stacking the jars in a row in her bedroom that she took care of until she freed them or they died. She got so upset when they did that.


"It has butterfly wings. I wanted it to be special because everyone has a butterfly tattoo nowadays, she said, lifting her shirt up slightly and pointing to her waist so he could see.

"I don t have one," he laughed, more at the fact Illyana was still marching to the beat of her own drum, even when it came to tattoo choice. She'd never been one to follow the crowd, and in some respect, he had always admired her for it.

"But you do have an eyebrow piercing, what s up with that? I'm surprised your dad allowed it," she nodded toward his left brow where the small silver piece hung. He touched it, feeling the cold metal sphere. He often forgot it was there.

"I got this right after graduation before I was supposed to intern at a law office in Scandalica City. Man, Dad was super pissed and I thought maybe it would prevent him from making me go but I ended up being the most rock 'n roll assistant to a paralegal that summer."

Illyana started laughing then, and he smiled in return. They were learning about each other, catching up on lost time, and hopefully on a path to becoming friends again.

"So, what's something you've done in college that I'd be shocked to hear?"

He wondered what brought her question on and had to think. If she had considered him an arrogant jerk then something non-self-serving would probably shock her.

"I left my fraternity because I found out they were drugging drinks at parties, much like the way yours was drugged the other night. My dad stopped paying tuition, even when I told him the reason."

He realized then, this fact was something he hadn't even explained to his roommates yet, but it worked—lllyana looked shocked, then her face fell into a glower at nothing in particular, "Your father was always such a winner."

He had to grin at her acid sarcasm. His father was never very inviting toward Illyana, unlike Grams who insisted she could stay over as long as she liked after school and gave her as many cookies as she wanted.

"I hope he doesn't win the election," Nick admitted quietly and then looked to Illyana. She was still glowering outwardly at the painting but it was not the painting's fault, and she didn't seem to hear Nick's added comment. "What about you? Any shocking developments?"

She was struck for a moment as if she didn't expect him to ask her the same question but how could she not? She filled her cheeks with air and let out a long breath. Then another. Finally a third. He was about to tell her that she didn't have to tell him anything if it was such an internal dilemma but she beat him to speaking.

"I had a boyfriend for three years and then he cheated on me."

The statement came as a rush of an exhale but he could hear the utter pain in her voice—it took him a moment to process that string of words and understand them. He'd never been in a situation like that, in fact, he was impressed and maybe was a bit shocked that she had held down a relationship for so long with her short temper. He never had long-lived relationships; never felt the need to have them in college, or rather, had never met anyone that would give him the idea it would be worth it.

Then he knew without a doubt that the reason why she rejected him, why this could never be a date, wasn't because he wasn't her type.

It was because her heart was broken.

It was like Trent Ziegler all over again. Except this guy, whoever he was, didn't just throw away her valentine; he threw away something far more precious.

Nick reached out and set his hand over hers where it rested on the bench surface. She didn't flinch nor make a move to remove her hand either. For once, he wasn't flirting her it was time for him to prove that he was a better person; a better friend.

"I'm sorry Ill," Nick said, truly. He hated to see her hurting. He hated to think that a person existed who could be lucky enough to have Illyana's love and then throw it away like that. He couldn't help adding, "The jerk didn't deserve you."

"Sorry to ruin your outing," she mumbled, seeing his downcast expression, as her voice caught on her emotion and it cracked. She pulled her hand out from under his and hid her face behind it—her body became stiff as if she'd rather be one of the statues outside in the sculpture garden.

"There's nothing to be sorry about," he assured and found that she was crying again—seeing that a tear must have rolled down her cheek to drip of her chin. It was so weird witnessing her in this vulnerable state when she'd always seemed to wear an armor made of anger to cover it up before. She had changed more than he realized. They both had.

He had been convinced that removing himself from her life would lessen her pain but now knew it had been the wrong thing to do. He should have stuck it out and kept trying.

She allowed him to pull her into an embrace so she could hide her face better in the folds of his shirt. He was thankful he'd done laundry that morning after she'd left and was wearing something clean for her to put all her sniffles into now. She shuddered in a silent, despairing sob and then relaxed a tiny fraction as he tightened his arms around her, "Just know that I'm here for you this time."