Everything Between Us by Mila Ferrera

understandable.
    “Daniel, it’s Liza. Can you come over tonight?” She pauses, listening. “I don’t care when. It’s just—oh, come on.” Another pause. “I’ll make you forget whatever you’re worried about. I’ll make you forget your own name.”
    I cringe at the wheedling, singsong sound of her voice.
    “Fine,” she snaps. “Fine! You’re spending more time with Estella these days than you are with me!” Her exasperated sigh is so loud that I can hear it through the door. “Yes, I know I hired you. Yes, I know you’re doing your job. But—” In the silence, I wonder what Daniel’s saying. Is he telling her that I’m such a bitch that she should be paying him double? Is he talking dirty to her? Apologizing? I don’t even know what I want it to be.
    “This better not become a pattern,” she says quietly enough that I almost have to press my ear to the door to catch it. “Because there are plenty of artists who could do a series for my entertainment suite. Caleb, for example. He’s in such demand these days that—”
    My mouth drops open. That’s flat-out mean. Threatening to snatch back a commission simply because he won’t come over and service her? I saw him this morning. He wasn’t himself. He had something going on and he’s probably dealing with it now.
    “That’s better,” she purrs. “I’m looking forward to the gallery opening, then.”
    My stomach turns. I march back to my room, my thoughts of comforting her turned to ash under the heat of my anger, my thoughts of Daniel warped into a tornado of confusion. Do I care if my mom is with him? Why the hell would I? Why do I feel like throwing something right now? And when he comes back tomorrow morning, what am I going to do?

Chapter Five: Daniel
    The edge of my bed creaks as I stand up and shove my phone into my pocket. I’d just gotten to my parents’ when Liza called, and so I headed to my old bedroom for some privacy. I so did not want my mother to hear me getting a booty call.
    This is getting complicated. I should have known it would. When Liza called, I could tell from her voice she was upset, and when she started going on about how I’m spending more time with Stella, I realized she was jealous. Which is ridiculous. Except … as she said it, I found myself thinking about Stella again.
    Who am I kidding? I haven’t stopped thinking about her all day.
    A few years ago, I decided that it was much easier to give people what they want from me and tuck things that are important away, to keep private. Most people aren’t interested in those things anyway. They’re interested in themselves, and what I can do for them, or how I can make them feel. Sex is like that. Art is like that. Caleb bares his soul on his canvases. I bare everything but.
    This morning, as Stella watched me sketch, I felt naked. I don’t know how she did it, or why, or if she even understood what she was doing. I don’t think she did. But moment by moment, she slid her fingernails under my pretty wallpaper and peeled it away in strips. I’m not sure whether I liked it or hated it, whether it was good for me or bad, but one thing is clear to me—I have to be more careful around her. Especially because Liza is getting moody about it.
    It’s an opportunity, really. If Liza’s jealous, she might cut off the lessons without resenting me for it. She could save me from Stella. But instead of taking advantage of Liza’s insecurity, I found myself appeasing her, just so she’d settle down. She’s coming to the gallery exhibit opening next week. She’ll be expecting me to entertain her after. And I will. I’ll give her a good show. That’s all she’ll ever get from me, though. It’s all anyone will ever get from me, because it’s all I’m willing to give. This morning with Stella was a fluke. It happened because I was upset.
    And now I have to go find out why. I draw in a slow breath and let it out, then head to the kitchen, where my mom is