Falling For Us Again

10. TRAUMA

Chapter 10

TRAUMA

Jenna

I look in the mirror one last time, adjusting a stray strand of blonde hair. Satisfied with my appearance, I grab my bag and keys. The summer breeze is cool as it caresses my hair lightly, making me smile. My pink sundress dances around my petite frame with each step I take.

It’s been a good day so far. Inspiration struck, and I came up with ideas for a new book, already writing the first few pages. The creative outburst fills me with a happiness I haven’t felt in a while.

I glance at my watch. It’s almost time for the paint and sip at Lola’s studio, and even though I’m not in the mood to be interacting with other people, I know I must be there for her. She’s poured all her energy into planning this event since she found out about Brian’s cheating.

Lola and Brian are still together, going to couple’s therapy and trying to make things work. Even though I have my own reservations about her decision to remain with him, I support her as a friend. This rough patch has dimmed her usual cheerful demeanor, so seeing her excitement about hosting this event makes me determined to support in any way that I can.

As I drive through the quiet streets, my mind wanders back to my latest book. It’s been a while since I felt this kind of creative surge, and it’s exciting.

Reaching the studio, I pause for a moment, taking in the warm glow emanating from the windows as I park my car.

The studio is nestled between a quaint café and a vintage bookstore. The exterior is painted a soft blue with white trim, giving it a welcoming, almost whimsical appearance. The large windows are framed with fairy lights that twinkle gently in the late afternoon light, adding a touch of magic to the scene.

It makes me smile. It’s exactly how I would have imagined Lola’s studio to be.

Inside, the gallery is cozy and inviting. The walls are filled with a variety of artworks, from vibrant paintings to intricate sculptures, each piece telling its own story. The wooden floors creak softly underfoot, and the scent of fresh paint mingles with the faint aroma of coffee from the café next door.

The space is arranged intentionally, with easels set up in a semicircle to encourage conversation and interaction among the guests. Small tables are scattered throughout, each topped with a palette of paints, brushes, and glasses of wine. The lilting sounds of classical music play in the background, creating a relaxing and inspiring atmosphere.

Lola spots me from across the room and waves enthusiastically. Her vibrant personality is infectious, and I can’t help but smile back. As I step inside, she rushes over to greet me, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Jenna! I'm so glad you came!" she exclaims, pulling me into a quick hug.

"I wouldn’t miss it," I reply, trying to match her enthusiasm

She whispers, slipping her hands in mine. “Come on, let me introduce you to Brian.”

My eyebrows lift, and my eyes dart around trying to pick him out from the small group of people. “He’s here? Which one? The one wearing a cap?”

She giggles. “No.”

“Perhaps leaning against the bar?”

“No, Jenna.”

She leads me to a tall lean man with his back turned to us as he speaks on the phone.

He turns when he hears footsteps approaching, and a smile curls his lips. He’s good-looking with curly brown hair and a perfect set of teeth, and he has a warm smile.

“Yeah, I’ll let you know when I‘m done with it. Thanks,” he says before ending the call.

“Hi baby.” Lola says as they kiss, and he wraps an arm around her waist. “This is Jenna.”

She makes the introduction, and I exchange pleasantries with him.

“Lola got me into reading your books. You’re very talented. I thought she was kidding when she said you two used to be close friends back in high school.” Brian says, a hint of admiration in his voice.

I give him a polite smile, not wanting to be too friendly with someone who cheated on my best friend. I wonder what Dylan thinks of him. I push that thought away. I don’t want to think about Dylan today.

“Yes. She was my best friend.”

After a few minutes of small talk, he says “Anyway, it was nice to meet you, Jenna.”

“Same.” We shake hands.

“Alright,” Lola says, “let me take you to her seat.” She slips her hand into mine as she guides me to an empty easel. “It’s all I could do to keep a straight face from the stiff smile you gave him,” she says with a laugh.”

“I mean, he’s ok, but you’re like a goddess. How could he cheat on you?”

Lola chuckles. “You can be my hype woman any day.”

“Well, it’s true, but let’s not dwell on that today. Today is all about you and this beautiful event you planned. You’re so talented, Lola.”

She fans herself with a hand, her face glowing in delight. “Why thank you,” she giggles.

“I look around the studio as if seeing it for the first time. Wow,” I breathe out, my eyes scanning the room. “This is so beautiful Lola; you did an incredible job. I love it. You should be very proud.”

“Aw, thank you for saying that, and so should you. I tell everyone I’m best friends with a famous artist. I milk it for all it’s worth.”

We laugh softly.

She hands me a glass of champagne as I settle into my chair, an empty easel before me. A few other people gather around the surrounding easels next to me.

"Relax and have fun, Jenna."

I nod, feeling a bit more at ease. The room buzzes with chatter and laughter, and I take a sip of wine. I find myself wondering if Dylan will be here...

“Jenna,” An unfamiliar voice calls my name.

I turn to meet the person, but I don’t recognize the face.

“Jenna, you remember Ian, right?” Lola asks.

“Ian?”

She nudges me with her hips. “The senior who used to have a crush on you. He was always all over you, but you never gave him the time of day.”

The recognition hits. “Wait, I remember. He looks so different. Good different.”

“He’s even married now,” Lola whispers. “Anyway, have fun and mingle.”

Lola crosses the room back to meet Brian, and he whispers something that makes her laugh. Well, if she's this happy, maybe I should consider giving Brian a chance. I tear my eyes away from them.

I return my attention back to the man walking towards me with his arms around a petite brunette.

"Hello Jenna, it's been a while," he says, smiling warmly and extending his hands for a handshake.

"Ian, hi. It’s been a while indeed."

“I’m kind of surprised you remember me. You never paid me any attention in high school. I hear you’re a famous author now.”

“Oh well,” I say with a small smile. "How have you been?"

"Great. This is my wife, Emily," he makes an introduction. Emily extends her hand, her eyes bright with excitement.

“Please, don’t mind my husband. That’s how he jokes.” The woman beside him says. “I’m so pleased to meet you. I’m a huge fan, and I’m very sure I’ve read all your books.”

“Nice to meet you as well.” I smile sweetly at her. “Also, that’s very kind of you to say.”

We sit at a table and chat for a while, and I find myself thoroughly enjoying their company. Emily’s enthusiasm for my work is heartwarming, and Ian’s easygoing nature makes for easy conversation.

"Your books have gotten me through some tough times," Emily confesses. "I always feel so connected to your characters."

“Honestly, I don't know if I should be scared of my wife saying this because your books are some of the darkest I’ve ever read,” Ian says, turning to his wife. Honey, what do you mean you feel connected to the characters? Should I be concerned?”

I laugh at that, and Emily nudges him with a hand.

“Again, don't mind him. He doesn't understand the importance of escapism and how excellent you are at it.”

Her words touch me deeply. "Thank you, Emily. That’s the best compliment I could ever receive."

I know the second Dylan walks in. My eyes are drawn to the door as if pulled by a magnetic force. I feel his presence even before I see him. He walks in with Maggie, laughing. His laugh is rich, deep, and genuine. It’s been a while since I’ve heard that laugh.

I feel a twinge of jealousy at their closeness. It reminds me of a time when Dylan and I used to be close, and he’d look at me with that same lightness in his eyes, laughing at every joke I made. A knot forms in my stomach.

We haven’t seen each other since that Saturday at my house.

I’ll never forget the way he’d set my body on fire. I blush remembering how I was so out of my mind with pleasure, I’d literally begged him to take me.

He has ruined me for anyone else. There’s never going to be another man that could ever make me feel the way he does.

When I woke up the next morning, he was gone. It was a reminder that to him it was nothing more than sex. He’d probably gone back home to Maggie or whoever he was seeing, and when I sell the house, I’ll go back to LA as well.

I feel a strong sense of resentment for the way I’m immediately attracted to him. Just his mere presence in the room, and all my thoughts become centered on him. I’m acutely aware of him as he makes his way through the room.

I try to focus on the conversation at my table, but it’s no use. Dylan has stolen my attention. His eyes scan the crowd until they land on me. For a moment, our gazes lock, and everything else fades away. I quickly look away, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Jenna, are you okay?” Emily asks, noticing my distraction.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I reply, forcing a smile. “Just a little tired.”

“What are you drawing, Picasso?” I tease her, nudging her with a shoulder. Her canvas is a swirl of colors so far.

“Oh, you’ll see, Da Vinci. I intend to paint a melancholy period piece that speaks to the subtlety of life.”

I laugh. “Well, at least I’ll be able to say that I saw a profound piece of art in my lifetime.”

We turn our attention back to our canvases. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dylan and Maggie heading toward the makeshift bar set up in the corner, where Lola is pouring glasses of wine and chatting with participants.

Maggie pats him on the back before going to take a seat, leaving Dylan alone. He grabs a drink for both of them and chats briefly with Lola, his eyes flickering to me as they talk. I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking.

Is he as affected by our night together as I am? Did it mean anything to him, or was I just another woman in his bed?

I straighten my shoulders, forcing myself to focus on painting. For a moment, I lose myself in the colors and the strokes, letting the world around me fade away. The chatter blending with the faint clink of glasses and the swish of brushes against canvas.

I take a step back to admire my work, my heart sinks. Instead of the abstract flowers I intended, the canvas holds a striking resemblance to Dylan. His eyes, his smile, his laugh—all captured in vibrant colors. Mortified, I look around to see if anyone has noticed. It doesn't seem like it, but I can’t take any chances. I grab a cloth and dip it into the solvent, scrubbing at the paint with desperate urgency.

In my haste, my elbow knocks over a pint of red paint. The can tips, spilling a cascade of crimson across the table and onto the floor. The clatter of the can hitting the ground draws everyone's attention, and suddenly, all eyes are on me.

“Jenna, are you okay?” Lola asks, rushing over with concern etched on her face.

“I’m fine.” I stammer, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. I bend down to clean up the mess, but my hands are trembling. “I got carried away, and then I—”

Before I can react, Dylan is by my side. He grabs my hand and pulls me away. “Are you hurt?” He looks me over.

“I’m okay,” I say quietly.

“Are you sure you’re ok?” he asks.

My embarrassment mixes with annoyance. I snatch my hand away from him. “You don't need to treat me like a child.” I snap.

I grab a mop to clean up the mess. He runs a hand over his hair before taking the mop from me. “Let me.”

“You don't need to.”

But he doesn't listen to me. Heat rises to my cheeks as I glance up to see everybody watching us. I join Dylan in cleaning the splatter.

He asks again. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I nod, unable to trust my voice. The proximity of him, the concern in his voice, and the eyes of everyone on us are almost too much to handle. The room feels small and constricting.

“Alright, everyone. Let’s focus on our paintings. You have only a few minutes left to unleash your inner Picasso.” Lola says, steering everyone’s attention back to their canvases.

The murmurs and buzz of the room resumed, and I let out a sigh of relief. Once the spill is cleaned, Dylan stands up and extends his hand to help me up. I take it hesitantly, the warmth of his touch sending butterflies in my stomach. We stand there for a moment, both of us unsure of what to say or do next.

Suddenly, the lights go out, plunging the room into darkness. Panic surges through me, and I begin to hyperventilate.

My breaths come quick and shallow, my chest tightening as the darkness closes in around me.