Chapter 7: Brushstrokes of Life

Hazel's POV

A week passed quickly with my packed course schedule, and I didn't leave campus at all. With the class load I had, and then being terrified of that night repeating itself, I barely had time for lunch. Poor Isabella tried to meet me outside our dorm room, but to no avail. It seemed like I arrived late from the library, studying and working, and got up early to leave again.

'Wow, it's Friday already!' I thought to myself while in the library studying.

This was my first semester in grad school, and hell, it was so busy. I was in the library, taking a break, sipping coffee, and thinking about Alessandro. The last memory I had of him, how he passionately kissed me, held me—I felt a sense of safety and familiarity. He said he would text me, which he didn't. "That's what you get for trusting strangers, Hazel," my mind reminded me of my low EQ again. I tried to find reasons deep down why he wouldn't have texted or kept in touch, and the only thing I could think of is he lost his phone. 'Duh, that's the stupidest reason there is,' I almost mind-slapped myself at my foolish thoughts when a vibration in my pocket pulled me out of my daze. "Maybe he just said that in the heat of the moment," I thought.

I sighed, pulled out my phone, and a smile crossed my face looking at the clock. It read 5 pm as I read Isabella's text.

Isabella: "Hey stranger! Are we really roommates?"

Hazel: "Girl, I'm just busy. My schedule has been shitty with a lot of introductory courses, and you know I'm on scholarship, so I need to complete this semester with an A+ to keep that money going."

Isabella: "Yes, nerd! So you wanna wind down a bit tonight at 7 pm? There's a graduate party off-campus. I was invited and was thinking I could use you as my plus one because I know you ignore your social invites?"

Hazel: "I'm so tired, not in the MOOD."

Isabella: "Come on, girl! It's Friday night; you earned it, nerd. Let's chill a bit. The party is nice—responsible adults, no drugs, a bit of alcohol, and no problems at all. The host is Mr. Zimmer, of the diversity club. So, there will be a lot of diversity in there, LOL [Devil Emoji]"

Hazel: "Okay, okay, I will go, though I hate Mr. Zimmer. I feel he is a womanizer, someone you never trust. LOL. Let's meet at the dorm in an hour to get ready, okay?"

Isabella: "See you then! xoxo"

I locked my phone and looked back at my table, gathered my belongings, and left the library holding my sketchbook. I had a meeting with Mrs. Marou, my advisor. She felt my workload was too much and that I needed a life to live here in Florence instead of putting my face in books the whole day. I can't say I disagree but I wanted to learn as much as I can.

I knocked on her door and opened it. She welcomed me with a smile, as usual—French makeup with bright red lipstick and a pencil dress. Mrs. Marou is French, and she looks like she walked out of a fashion magazine. I sometimes wonder how much time she needs to get ready every morning. She stood and hugged me.

"Bonjour, my dear. I see that you still own the American hoodie style," she teased in a serious tone.

Mrs. Marou has been on my back since she was assigned to me. She wanted to go shopping with me as she believed my taste in clothes was questionable. To be honest, I don't care. I always get up, wash my face, pull on my jeans, a t-shirt, and a hoodie, have my hair in a messy bun, and go to class.

I responded, "How are you, Mrs. Marou? I missed you," trying to divert her attention.

"How was your week? I saw that you were busy with your full schedule," she commented with a disappointed look; she hated that I took too many courses and did not enjoy my life at university.

"Come on, Mrs. Marou, my schedule is not crazy. I'm just trying to keep my scholarship rolling, you know. Plus, I have good news for you. Today, I'm going to Mr. Zimmer's party off-campus," I said, grinning at her.

She clasped her hands together, excited at the news, and responded happily, "Oh mon Dieu [Oh my God], that is amazing news. I'm happy finally to see you mingle with others." She stopped for a moment, as if remembering something. A state that always amazes me in Mrs. Marou. She pulled a paper from the stack in front of her and handed it to me. "I called you for the meeting because of this," handing me the piece of paper; she clasped her hands again excitedly. I glanced at the paper, and it said:

[Arts competition: The winners' art will be displayed for a charity auction to support children getting into arts. Funded by Lombardi Foundation.]

"Oh. My. God." I put my hands on my mouth with excitement, jumped, and swirled, then hugged Mrs. Marou. She hugged me in return and said, "This is a great opportunity. The charity auction will have influential people in the city, artists from around the world, and of course, faculty and students. As your advisor, I already signed you in because I know your talent and I want you to show it to the world so that you get feedback to improve."

Hearing Mrs. Marou, I was determined that I need to give my best given the trust she is putting in me. "Je t'adore, Mrs. Marou," I said, throwing air kisses at her. She did the same and whooshed me out of her office in a stern teasing voice. "Now go get ready for the party; you have to look presentable and put some makeup on too. Maybe you will meet a boyfriend there," Mrs. Marou emphasized the last part in her most French accent possible while wiggling her eyebrows. I shook my head laughing and bid her goodbye. She kissed me, and I turned returning to my dorm room.