Truth or Dare

Awkwardly, I pulled my hat farther down on my forehead, hoping nobody would recognize me.

"It's his best work yet," a woman's voice spoke from beside me. I didn't look up at her, not wanting to be recognized.

"Oh?"

"Yes. He's done plenty of oils, but never really..." she made some weird hand gesture that I didn't understand. "Well, it doesn't matter. When he finally found what he was looking for, he has been unstoppable. He's working on another piece right now and it blows this one out of the water. But it's not done yet so it's still in the studio. He has a studio tour scheduled for Final's week, if you'd like to come."

Shocked and embarrassed, I didn't know how to answer. "It's amazing."

"He's been drawing this same girl since Freshman year. It honestly got annoying after a while, but... I think this time, he's finally hit the nail on the head. Maybe he'll move onto something new... but honestly, I doubt it. His other stuff is over there, if you want to go see it. I'm Dr. Addison, by the way." She offered a hand for me to shake.

"Oh, uh..." I kept my head down and shook her hand, "Matilda."

"A pleasure. If you'd like to talk to him, he's right over there by the piano."

"Thanks again."

She left, and I went the opposite direction of the piano.

I looked through the work by other artists, not severely impressed by anything as much as Red's painting. I finally found his other stuff, and it was all equally as impressive. There was a print of a digital abstract piece displaying shadow, light, texture, and three-point perspective, titled, Exploration. Another was a nude gesture drawing of a woman's torso, simple and erotic, but still conservative, and clearly done in one line of his charcoal. It was called just breathe, baby.

The last two were of me... sort of. One was of me in profile, smiling, done in bright, bold, unusual colors. My skin was orange and my hair was blue, and my teeth were purple. Brightness and neon colors almost burned my eyes to look at it, but somehow, despite the strange color selection, it was still attractive. It was called An Unexpected Discovery.

The last piece was a digital rendition of my selfie in the grass... but it wasn't. A single brown eyeball, floating in a sea of green and blues, surrounded by vague black and white shapes and textures.

It was titled, Still Unseen.

Goosebumps broke out over my arms. I need to leave.

I made my way out of the FPAC, but there was someone blocking the main entrance. I tried to sneak around him, but he was a very tall man with wide shoulders and a big belly, and he was clearly not paying attention to a skinny girl in a sunhat. He was talking loudly with someone I couldn't see, blocked out by his huge form.

Awkwardly I stood to the side, looking through a brochure while I waited for the large, loud man to move out of the way.

"I'll give you fifteen thousand for it," he was saying in an obnoxious, boisterous tone. "I want it in my gallery. And I want it on the cover of my new brochure for next year. It'll go out to my entire mailing list of hundreds of thousands of people, nationwide. I'll have a journalist write a story about you and your work. You'll make it, kid. Let me help."

"I told you... that one is not for sale."

I froze and listened to his voice. That wasn't Red, was it? It sounded familiar, but different... Then again, it had been almost four years since I'd seen him. I stepped closer, listening with my ear inclined towards him, and focused on his voice. When he spoke again, I realized it absolutely was him. Just a little deeper... smoother somehow.

"That piece means a lot to me, and I spent years trying to figure out how to paint what I needed to paint. Maybe one day I'll sell it, but not today. It's coming home with me. I'm sorry. Now, I'm completely open to doing some other work for you, or selling you the piece in my studio right now. I think I've found my groove through these last few projects. But that piece... no. Not today. Sorry, Sir."

"Well, Jeremy, give me your number, and we'll talk about some other opportunities. And don't you dare disappear into the ether. I need your work in my gallery."

Red laughed, and it sent shivers down my arms and made my stomach flip. Holy crap, it was absolutely him. I knew his laugh. Every time he'd insulted me, or someone else had, the only thing I had to look forward to was hearing that sexy chuckle.

I had hated myself for loving that sound. I hated myself even more for still loving it.

Red told his phone number to the gallery owner, and the two stepped away from the door, continuing their conversation. I snuck behind them and hurried out of the FPAC.

Without really understanding what I was doing, I pulled out my cell phone and entered the ten numbers that had somehow seared themselves into my brain after hearing them a single time. This is so dumb. I shouldn't do this. There's nothing left to do. Nothing left to say.

But I couldn't help it. He got his closure through the painting, and I needed mine. So I opened a new message and texted him: Truth or Dare?

***

Tilly: Truth or Dare?

Red: Dare

Tilly: Feeling brave?

Red: Adventurous. Never brave.

Tilly: Why not? Taking a dare from a stranger is brave.

Red: I can always ignore a dare from a stranger.

Tilly: That's fair. Pick a number between 1 and 10

Red: 7

Tilly: Good choice. One for each day of the week.

Tilly: Your dare is to create 7 pieces of artwork without using your muse.

Red: Impossible!

Tilly: I believe in you. Try something new.

Red: And if I accomplish it?

Tilly: Then we can switch.

------- 7 days later --------

Red: (attachments)

Red: Truth or dare?

Tilly: Oh my god, hold on! These are amazing. Tell me about them first.

Red: Focused on my mom for the first two. Not thrilled, honestly.

Red: The third is about the brokenness of an old relationship I've been trying to patch up... my childhood best friend. We're still buddies now, and things are better... but we had a falling out a while back. So I tried to capture that... breaking and mending, but not really healing.

Tilly: What happened?

Red: I wouldn't stop drawing his sister...

Tilly: LOL.

Red: It pissed him off. Like, way more than I expected it to.

Red: We kinda bullied her in high school. Found out she had a crush on me and I felt like a real dick. Anyway, he found out I was sketching her a lot and he got really possessive. Turns out the only reason he ever let us mess with her in the first place was because he didn't want any of us to crush on her.

Tilly: seems like a kind of controlling, ass-backwards way to avoid a nonexistent problem to me.

Red: We were stupid, and also nine.

Tilly: Got it. Tell me about the fourth one.

Red: Same premise, different outcome. For a while, I was worried I'd lost him. We were rooming together, that's how he saw my drawings. I moved out, found a new roommate. There was a time for about a month where I thought we'd never be friends again.

Tilly: When was that?

Red: Thanksgiving, Freshman year. I stayed on campus so I wouldn't run into him when we both went home to the same small town. Small towns are too small not to run into people by accident.

Tilly: The last three look similar. Whose pets are those?

Red: One is my teacher and mentor's dog. Passed away last month, it was really hard on her. I stalked her Facebook and found a bunch of really good photos, and I'm planning to give it to her when it's done. I want to tidy up the background a little.

Red: The other is just a cute dog I found on the internet, and the bird is a bird I follow on Instagram. He's really funny.

Tilly: Birds have Instagrams?

Red: This one does. Look up "Jalapeno Pancake.'' He's really silly.

Tilly: I'm really impressed.

Red: This challenge has been really interesting, and it's got me out of my rut. So thanks.

Red: Your turn. Truth or Dare?

Tilly: Technically you didn't finish the challenge. Your pieces about your roommate are still reminiscent of your muse. And you used the same textures and color schemes in those as you did in your large piece at the exhibit.

Red: All my work is going to be related, because it's about my life. The subject isn't her; so it's semantics.

Tilly: Fine... I'll take it.

Red: So? Truth or dare.

Tilly:... Dare

Red: You're clearly an artist. Show me one of your pieces.

Tilly: I'm a type of artist... but I don't do any visual arts.

Red: Okay. Show me what you do.

------ 4 days later -------

Tilly: (attachment)

Tilly: Short story I wrote last year. It was going to be published in a literary magazine, but the mag went down.

Red: I don't know what to say. I'm not even ready to process what I've just read. Why haven't you published this?

Tilly: I've been busy pushing my novels. I'm hoping to do a collection of short stories and release an anthology. I have four more, I just need a few more to wrap it up and get to my word count.

Red: I am pissed off, turned on, in love, and definitely not crying a little.

Tilly: That's the idea. :)

Red: Why would you... ugh. I have to draw.

***

Red and I continued our strange relationship. We texted each other every week or two, but then over time, it became every few days, and then, every day. We laughed and cried and teased each other, and told secrets and stories that we would never have shared to each other's faces. Hell, Red and I had barely ever had a conversation in person other than me ignoring him.

But we never swapped names, we never asked personal questions, and we always chose dare.

The truths came out naturally, and we didn't ask for them, just offered them as tidbits and breadcrumbs to keep the conversation going. When the conversation died out, one of us would pitch our question again, and we were back on track.

This went on for the better part of two years.

I wasn't sure if he knew it was me. Part of me thought he did. Why would he open up to a stranger the way he did to me? But the other part of me thought he didn't. Because it was a lot easier to text a stranger than it was someone you knew in person.

All was going well, and I published two more books, and then started a new series of romances. I was trying hard to finish the anthology of short stories I'd been sitting on for a while, and I knew what I wanted to write about for the final story. He had continually asked me when I was going to finish it, but I kept telling him I was busy with other things.

I knew what I wanted to write. I just wasn't sure if I was willing to let myself go back there emotionally.

And, despite my challenge the first time we texted, he had continued to use me as his muse.

Our art fed off each other. He painted something beautiful that I related to, even if it wasn't me per se, but was in some way related to me. It would make me feel things, and then I would write something.

I never sent him the links, premise, or title of my books, but I did sometimes let him read excerpts or quotes. He congratulated me on my finished works, but never asked for the titles. Either he read them and knew my pen name, and therefore my true identity, or he didn't. I wasn't sure, and I didn't want to know. I was happy with what we had, even though I craved more, and still craved the loss of a relationship that never happened.

Red: Truth or dare.

Tilly: No way, it's my turn!

Red: Fine. I choose dare.

I had absolutely no idea what to dare him today. I was going back and forth about a character in my new book, trying to decide what he would look like. Over the past few years, I'd taken parts of Red and put him in my book. One man had his eyes, another had his laugh. One had his jawline, another had the messy fire-red hair that I loved so much.

Maybe I needed to try his method, I thought. I knew who my character was supposed to be, not what he was supposed to look like.

Tilly: Okay... I'm looking for inspiration today, so... send me a selfie, or a photo of something around you. ,

The last part was a cop-out or an escape, in case he didn't want to send me a selfie. He didn't text for a long time, but he finally did send a photo. I felt my phone buzz, and I avoided looking at it for a solid seven and a half minutes, but finally caved.

Damnit. My gut clenched as I stared at the photo.

Red had filled out from a gangly scraggly teenager to a handsome man. I knew he worked out a few times a week, and could see the muscles in his shoulders and forearms, and a hint of abs through his t-shirt that was just a little too tight. He was still thin, but had definitely filled out. Toned... strong. In the photo, he was leaning against a wall with one arm pressed up to support them, and one leg crossed over the other. His dirty, paint-covered jeans hung low on his hips, and he smiled into the camera with a subtle smirk. There was a yellow streak of paint in his bright red tousled hair, probably from running his hand through it like I knew he did when he was thinking.

"Shit." I put my phone down on my desk, screen down, and clenched my head. It was the perfect vibe for the cocky, stuck-up bad boy I was trying to write about. I made him a tattooed mechanic with dirty blonde hair instead, but the rest, I stuck true to.

Ugh... putting this boy in my books again. I really need a new muse. ,

My phone buzzed a few times and I groaned as I checked it. Please be another selfie, , I prayed silently. And this time, shirtless?

Red: You there?

Red: That bad, huh?

Red: I feel like I tried too hard.

Tilly: No, you're good... like, VERY good... You might end up in my next book.

Red: As long as you make me a good kisser.

Tilly: Hah! Promise ;)

Red: So... truth or dare? ;)

I took a long, deep breath. I knew what he was going to ask. He'd want a photo too, and I'd have to say no. I wasn't doing that. I couldn't do that.

The irony of my situation was this whole thing had turned back around on me. I'd done the exact same thing to him that he'd done to me in my novel. In the process of texting him over the past few years, he'd become my friend. And now, I was afraid that if I told him who I was, he'd be just as mad as I had been, just as hurt as I was in my novel and in real life.

Guilt and frustration burned in my chest. If he asked for a selfie, I was going to have to turn him down. Awkwardly, I responded with my usual answer of dare.

Because if I said truth, who knows what he might ask?

Chat dots popped up and went away, over and over, until I sighed and set my phone away from me. I needed to focus on this outline!

I stood up from my desk and paced, knowing I couldn't focus when I was waiting for a dare to come through. Finally a message appeared, and read the dare in mild horror.

Red: Come to my open gallery. Next month. April 1st.

Tilly: Oh man... I would, but I don't live in the area.

Red: I can find you somewhere to stay, if you can get down here.

I debated back and forth, writing various excuses and deleting all of them before giving up.

The truth was, I wanted to go. I wanted to see his work, to support him, to see the pieces he'd told me about but not shared with me yet. And I wanted to know if this friendship, this back-and-forth of our art inspiring each other was something that could turn into more.

I should have been honest from the start about everything, I told myself. I kept my identity a secret, literally knowing what might happen, and now I have to deal with it.

Unless... I didn't.

I could show up to Red's gallery tour, claiming I had heard about it through my brother. I could say I was in the area, and oh look, is that me? You jerk, drawing my Instagram photos, how could you?

Then I could see him, but he'd never know I was the girl he'd been texting.

I texted him back.

Tilly: I can't... I'm sorry. I have a meeting with my agent the next day, and I'll probably be traveling. Maybe another time?

Red: Okay. But that means you owe me a dare.

Tilly: Hm... I guess you're right.

Red: Feeling brave?

Tilly: Not one bit... maybe a little adventurous, though.

Red: You said you had a short story you wanted to write for that anthology, but weren't ready to write yet... Write it. Send it to me.

I groaned and threw my phone onto my pillow, and fell back onto my bed.

There was only one way for this whole thing to end: Embarrassingly. Good or bad, what I wanted or what I didn't... It was going to be embarrassing.

Begrudgingly, I texted him back.

Tilly: Fiiiiiiine. Give me some time though. This one will be tough.

Red: I'm sure it'll be amazing. You always are.

I actually blushed as I reread that last message. Then I dragged myself to my laptop and pulled up a blank document, letting the words pour out of my heart.

***

I lied about traveling on the second of April. Instead, I headed out to Oriental, North Carolina, a tiny town even smaller than the one I grew up in. The amount of artists, galleries, and co-ops in the area was surprisingly high considering the population. It had become well known for being an artist community, so people traveled to visit and stay in the cute Bed & Breakfasts and tour the riverside galleries.

Red had found a small house on the edge of the downtown area, a waterfront property with a large sunroom where he painted. I made it to the tail end of his studio tour. The yard was filled with people, and there was a buffet line with hors d'oeuvres and punch under a tent, a cool breeze from the river doing nothing to cut the humid North Carolina air.

I heard Red's voice before I saw him. He was laughing with my brother about some class they'd both taken in college, and toasting being done with the bullshit of academia. He was even more handsome than he was the last time I'd seen him during his Senior year.

Suddenly I felt incredibly awkward. What would happen if he looked over and saw me? We hadn't seen each other face-to-face in almost seven years. Luckily, Micah had indeed mentioned Red's open studio tour to everyone he knew, so I had a valid reason to be here. Although I still planned to sneak in and sneak out, hoping he wouldn't notice me.

It was mostly his newer stuff, and I'd seen some of it, though not all. There were shapes and colors and patterns I recognized, only because I knew where he'd pulled his inspiration, and luckily there were no full-face portraits of me. That was a relief, because with my brother and I both here, that would have been awkward as hell.

I was staring at a painting of a sea turtle trapped and tied up in interconnected constellations when I heard Red behind me.

"Hey Tilly."

I swallowed and looked up at him, anxious to see his expression. He smiled at me cautiously, looking about as awkward as I felt.

"Hey Red." I forced my eyes away and looked back at the painting. "This is amazing stuff."

"Thanks... I hit a stride right near the end of college and it's been a ride."

"Yeah... I can see that. You've been busy."