Page 20 of Calculated Risk
As we clean up the studio together, stealing kisses and touches, I know that whatever happens with the show, whatever challenges we face, we'll face them together. No more avoiding. No more pretending. Just us, messy and imperfect and real.
It's more than I hoped for.
It's perfect.
Chapter 7
Marcus
One weekof dating Lilah Rodriguez and it’s nothing like I imagined.
It's messier. More chaotic. Completely unplanned.
It's perfect.
"Stop organizing my paintbrushes," she says Sunday morning, swatting my hand away.
"They're organized by color. It's efficient?—"
"They're organized by how I use them. Your system makes no sense for my process."
"Your system is entropy."
"Your system is boring." She kisses me to stop my protest. "Leave my chaos alone."
We're in her studio, supposedly working. Actually, we've spent more time kissing than painting. I should feel guilty about the lost productivity.
I don't.
"We have five days," I remind her when we come up for air. "Six more pieces to complete."
"I know and we'll finish them. But right now, I need a break." She pulls me toward the door. "Come on. There's something I want to show you."
"Where are we going?"
"It's a surprise. You know, that thing you hate because you can't plan for it?"
"I don't hate surprises. I'm just... cautious about them."
"Same thing." She drags me across campus to the far side, to a building I've never entered. "The music building. Most people don't know about the rooftop access."
"Because it's probably restricted."
"Semantics." She produces a key. "One of my friends is a music major. She gave me her practice room key. The roof is technically part of the practice space."
"That's not how building codes work?—"
"Marcus. Stop thinking and just experience."
We climb five flights of stairs and emerge onto a rooftop garden I didn't know existed. Plants everywhere, small trees, benches overlooking campus.
"It's beautiful," I admit.
"I come here when I'm stressed. When the studio feels too small and my head feels too loud." She sits on a bench, pulling me down next to her. "I wanted to share it with you."
"Why?"
"Because you're always helping everyone else. Solving their problems. Fixing their crises. But who helps you? Who gives you space to just exist without having to be perfect?"
