The Art of Greedy: My Heart Wants Them All!

How does it feel to live a life full of lies? Nobody ever knows better than me—in my defense, I only care about myself. At least, that's what I've always told people. It's easier that way. People won't ask for many details when you give them the answer they expect. Humans are so easy to satisfy sometimes.

How about the truth? It's mentally draining. Pretending. Hiding. Smiling like you're not constantly cursing your life every second. But me, what life should I curse when it's already a cursed life in the first place?

I have too many secrets to keep. Some are mine, some stolen, some forged with trembling hands and desperate hope. I was never supposed to be here. Not in this city, not in this academy, and definitely not among these people who live and breathe art like it's a sacred piece of heaven.

Before my mind goes wilder on this busy afternoon, I take a deep breath and look at the blank canvas in front of me. I was trying to find the beautiful colors inside my head like a pallete, but all I could think about was the same nonsense. I don't think I can paint anything right now.

I drag my long legs to the window, open it slowly, and it makes a creaking sound. There's nothing but busy streets, busy people. Sometimes, I have random questions like what do people think when they walk on the street.

My head turns as I hear the front door open. There she goes, my pretty Latina roommate with her big smile. "Geez, guess who's acting like she's the main character of a rom-com movie, again."

Instead of feeling offended—because obviously there's no reason for me to feel that way—I just roll my eyes and chuckle. "Me."

"Bingo!" Julia throws her ass to the cozy couch and glances at my not-started-yet masterpiece. "Art block again? Or are you just too lazy to paint, hm?"

Oh, her cheeky smirk and smug face are the best yet the most infuriating things in this apartment. My academic journey would be filled with nothing but headaches without her presence. I shrug nonchalantly as a response. "My ex—"

"WHAT DOES THAT BASTARD WANT NOW?!"

Whoops. I should've known myself that she's THAT sensitive about this topic. Julia hasn't even met my ex yet—not that I want to introduce him to her—but she has so much hate towards him. Wow. Maybe that's a privilege of being an acting major that she can feel anything without it's happening to her. Or another option: she is so empathetic. I believe the last option. Despite her bluntness and loudness, she's actually such a sweetheart.

"He wants to meet me," I quickly added, "and of course I rejected him. I have to finish my project anyway."

It is cute to see Julia blowing her bangs like a little kid. She crosses her arms and looks grumpy. Damn, her acting skill really shows off in the times like this, though. "You better not meet him anymore. I despise that idea!"

I smile and move around to sit beside her on the sofa. "Don't you trust me that blindly? You only know my side of the story. What if I was playing the victim and actually lied about what happened between me and him?"

"Did you, though?"

I shake my head and let another chuckle. "Well, who knows?"

"Whatever. My friend's enemy is my enemy!" She declared passionately. I just laugh hearing that. What a woman with a good spirit. She leans her head dramatically on my shoulder and lets out an exaggerated sigh. "You really know how to attract chaos, don't you? Last week, you bumped into that stupid blonde playboy from a musical theatre major!"

Don't want to get called out like that, I give her a playful smirk, nudging her with my elbow. "Says the girl who broke up with her boyfriend during a stage kiss."

"That was improvisation," she says, sitting up and poking me in the ribs. "Art requires sacrifice. We got back together anyway."

I roll my eyes but can't help but grin. Moments like this make it easy to forget the weight of my haunting problems—or at least pretend it doesn't affect me anymore. But it does. It really does. Especially since I can't shake the things I wish to forget.

"I didn't tell you everything," I say quietly, eyes fixed on a chipped corner of the coffee table.

Julia turns toward me, all jokes instantly gone from her face. "Tell me what?"

My eyes drop to my lap. Suddenly, examining the pattern of my pants is more interesting than having a proper conversation with Julia. Maybe it's too fast. We had just met months before. But I can't stop the roots of guilt in my heart. I need to tell someone about this so the burden won't feel too heavy.

I swallow hard. "Can I tell you, though? I mean ... can you ... ugh, can I trust you?"

She gulps and blinks twice. "Shit, you made me nervous. I mean, you can tell me everything, but I don't want to give you any further pressure."

I glance at her, and for the first time since we met, I feel like maybe this is the line. The one that, once crossed, can't be undone. I confess my big secret in one breath. But then I feel like I lost my breath because now the silence wraps around us like a cold blanket.

Her lips part slightly, eyes searching mine, but she doesn't say a word. Not yet. I brace for the fallout.

I was overthinking. Maybe I wasn't, it was a normal worry because I don't want to lose someone like her as my friend. Julia put her arm on my neck and headlocked me while chuckling. "So what? I don't care about that stuff," she says casually, "anyway, I'm serious about that senior from the film direction major. He's way better than the playboy you met last week."

Okay, she changed the topic. This is even better for me. "Are you that desperate to be my Cupid?" After throwing that question—more like an accusation—I walk to the blank canvas that is still standing in the middle of our shared apartment. "I'm better on my own, you know. Plus, Felix just helped me because I looked like a stray cat since a certain someone left me at the bar."

Julia grins and tosses a throw pillow at me. "First of all, you're welcome. That little adventure got you a free drink and a ride home, didn't it? Second of all, I'm not desperate. I just happen to have eyes and basic matchmaking instincts. He might be looking so cold outside, but he pays attention to details!"

I catch the pillow easily and toss it aside, eyeing her. "Really? Matchmaking instincts? You sound like someone's mom for real."

"If the shoe fits," she says, winking. "But seriously, you should've seen the way that senior was looking at you at the showcase. Like he was planning your wedding or something."

My jaw dropped as I heard her usual nonsense yapping. "You surely have high imaginations."

She flicks her tongue. She really needs to learn how to mind her own business. But I can't deny that I like this feeling—having someone who truly cares about my well-being. "Liora, you're not that dense! You had a relationship before; of course, you know this kind of thing!"

I roll my eyes and pick up a brush, twirling it absentmindedly between my fingers. "Maybe he was just admiring my art, Jules. That's what the event was for, remember? And I'm a freshman, he probably was eyeing the first year's artwork."

Julia snorts. "Please. Nobody stares at a canvas like that unless they're imagining it hanging in their house—and I'm not talking about the painting."

I choke out a laugh, shaking my head. "You're absolutely insane."

She leans back, folding her arms behind her head, a smug look on her face. "I'm just saying, Felix might've helped you out of pity, but that cold, mysterious senior? He wasn't feeling sorry for you. He was curious. Maybe even impressed."

I pause, the brush stilling between my fingers. Curious. Impressed. Words that felt foreign when directed at me. Most people either wanted to fix me or use me—not figure me out. Ugh, Julia really always knows what to say, doesn't she?

"Even if he was," I say quietly, "it doesn't matter. I'm not exactly in the market for new complications."

Julia sits up, her voice softer now. "Not all people are complications. Some are ... safe."

"You keep encouraging me as if you know him well. Even though you have met him few times, doesn't mean you know how he's like inside," I say.

For a few solid seconds, there's no answer. I turn my head back to look at Julia. She looks hesitant. Like deciding a big decision that takes few days to contemplate. "Fine, you're right. I am not even close to Theo. But why don't you push your luck?"

I don't answer. Luck? Do I really have any? My life has been unlucky every single breath I took. I also haven't fully done with Elliot—my ex. And somewhere, hidden beneath the banter and jokes, there's a part of me that wonders if maybe, just maybe, she's right.

I let out a long sigh and look back at the canvas. I think now I know what to paint. My fingers move to grab the palette and put oil paints on it. I don't see Julia, but she plays music with a small speaker we bought a few days ago.

I'm not ready to open my heart again.