The Artist & The Q.B

"Oh, great. 'Its' home." I whisper, ominously as Truex's walks into the room.

His presence is my cue to start gathering my things and make a run for it. I'm not sure what it is about him and I, but we just don't get along. Every conversation turns into an argument. Which makes me want to cut my time short with best friend, Mya. Sliding my purse closer to me, I get ready to bolt.

"You're not leaving." Mya orders, as I pick up my purse.

"We just made all this food." Mya complains, pointing to the chicken Alfredo.

She's marrying her, "Dream guy" one of Truex teammates. I can cook a little bit, but she's utterly helpless. I've been trying to teach her the basics. Like how to boil water, turn on the stove, that sort of thing.

"Yeah, I gotta go. Sorry, maybe next time." I reply, not at all feeling sorry.

"Where do you have to be at 7 o'clock at night on a Saturday?"

She asks, suspiciously. She knows as well as I do, I have no social life.

Truex who has never kept his mouth shut a day in his life turns to me, "Avoiding me, Briar?" He asks, knowingly.

I grin humorlessly, "Why would I want to skip all the unpleasantness that is you?" I retort, back.

He knows full well, he's the reason I'm leaving.

"I've never been called unpleasant before." He remarks, his eyes laughing at me.

"Only because you can't hear all the way up there." I respond, looking at his height advantage with disdain.

"Feisty today." He replies, smirking. Realizing this is just the beginning of another long, drawn out argument, I sling my purse over my shoulder and move towards the front door.

Mya grabs my arm before I make it past her.

"Enough! Why the hell can't you two coexist? Just ignore each other and if you do have to speak, try to do it without trading insults." Mya suggests, like it's the simplest thing to do.

I roll my eyes at her.

Its not like we haven't tried that. I'known her two years and Truex about 9 months. Mya and I've moved out here to California from Michigan together. I'm pursuing my art career and not doing too bad....but not doing too good either. Still flat broke and about to get evicted, but I'm living the dream.

Mya teaches at a local school and is using her spring break and summer vacation to plan her wedding. Doing it all while living with Truex, her brother to save money, not that she needs to.

Truex is footing the bill for the wedding and her fiancé is loaded.

Glancing at Truex, I recall the exact day we met. I was instantly wary of him.

He was cold, quiet and reserved, but I didn't dislike him. Far from it, I actually thought he was sort of interesting, like a character in a weird Scifi novel. I smile at the thought. He's still distant to most people, the fortunate ones, but to me he's a total  asshole.

"Please, Briar. I want to discuss the wedding. You promised to help pick the bridesmaids dresses tonight. And we're supposed to start our workout tomorrow. I need your help! We have to get me in shape for the wedding." She whines.

I mentally roll my eyes. Mya looks just fine, curvy but still toned. However, it's my duty to support her in whatever she wants.

Sighing dramatically, I give in, "Fine. I'Il stay."

I can't break my promise to her, she'll never let me forget it.

I can be a brash person, not intentionally but some people find me challenging. Which makes it a struggle to garner friendships. So, anyone that has stuck it out with me for two years is worth a

little discomfort.

"Big brave, Briar." Truex whispers in my ear as he grabs a plate from the stack next to me.

I narrow my eyes at him, but look away when I see his amusement.

Dinner is tense.

I don't want to start a conversation because Truex will argue against whatever I say, so its a little quiet. Okay, more than quiet. You could hear a pin drop in this place.

"Briar and I were talking today and you won't believe what she thought Q.B. Stood for." Mya says, already laughing just as hysterically as she did earlier.

"Quiet Baller. As in, shhh... I have the ball." She explains.

"You're kidding?" He replies, unamused.

"No, it was so funny." Mya, replies. Her laughter filling the room.

"Clearly, you're the only one who thinks so." I point out. When she continues to giggle I ask,

"Seriously, how the hell was I supposed to know?"

She knows I hate all sports. I seen a baseball game, exactly one time, not by choice either. It was my fathers birthday present from my mom and my siblings. I got him one of those shirts that the players wear with the numbers on it, but I was forced to still go.

It never held my attention and I'm not sorry about it. How does it take three hours to play a game?

Who has that kind of time?

"I know. I know. Its just, every time I mention anything sports related you always ask, Is that what that is? Or is that what that means?"

I shrug, not thinking its particularly funny, but not bothered that it makes her laugh. I'm used to it. We're definitely close, but there are two things I refuse to do with her.

One, go to a sporting event of any kind.

Two, watch a sporting event of any kind. So far she's respected my wishes.

"Maybe if you learned about football you'd like it?" Truex argues, clearly bothered.

"I'd rather shoot myself in the face." I grumble, taking a bite of pasta.

"Which is true, because I would literally die if I had to watch football and shooting myself would just be faster and more humane way to go." I say, out loud thinking to myself.

Smirking when I hear Mya laugh, but I can feel the heat of Truex's glare.

"I bet its a lot like looking at the pictures you paint." I flinch at his comment, but understand the retaliation.

"At least I don't ask you to look at it, or understand it." I reply, simply. I won't let him get to me, I refuse.

Mya stands up quickly. "Well, I'm done. Are you done?" She asks, not waiting for an answer, but carries my plate away.

"I have to start watching my portion sizes too." She explains, loudly as she walks to the kitchen sink. I look up from where my plate was, my fork still suspended in the air.

Truex is watching me.

I raise my eyebrow at him, I can't help it. He wants a fight he's got one, same as always. We just can't help ourselves.

"How many paintings have you sold? Because I sell out seats, merchandise and my endorsement products." He states, smugly.

"I bet you do. You know I think of you every time I'm hungover and need a Gatorade. You're really doing the Lords work, Truex." I replay, sarcastically.

"I asked how many paintings you've sold?" He pushes, trying to get me to squirm.

"And I ignored you. But don't worry, I still heard the bragy part of the speech. Very impressive." I say, in fake awe.

"Guys!" Mya yells, coming back into the room.

"Knock it off."

I can see he wants to continue the battle and at this point I'm just waiting for the signal. He stands up and leaves the table, pat myself on the back.

Well done, me!

Mya opens her laptop and pulls up bridesmaids dresses that she's considering for the wedding. Who the hell gets excited about getting married and losing all sense of oneself?

Yuck.

Never. Its not for me, I aspire to die old and alone in a sea of cats, the way it should be, the way nature intended.

Love is for idiots. I live life the way I want and on my own terms, nothing and no one will ever have power over me. I shake my head at the imagines on the screen, fake cheesy smiles.

"I still can't believe you're getting married. Such a mistake, you know you'll never be alone again. Your life is going to come down to stopping for milk on the way home from work and picking up dry cleaning. Ugh, its so sad! And you're going to make me watch." I say, being over dramatic and covering my eyes.

"I said the same thing." Truex, agrees as he sits down next to me to see what we're looking at.

Shocked, I look at Truex. "What? We agree on something?" I ask perplexed.

Its never happened in all the time we've known each other.

He nods. "It would appear so."

"Then I must be wrong. Sorry, Mya. You're doing the right thing." I tell her, patting her arm.

"Now we can't agree on anything?" He questions, sounding annoyed and defensive. I shake my head, no and he continues.

"As I was saying, marriage is idiotic. Why the hell do it? So you can walk down an aisle and wear a pretty dress? Just so one day you can change your mind. Then you have to hope your divorce doesn't fuck up the 2.5 kids you decided to have."

I nod in agreement before I can stop myself.

"Dammit, he's right." I comment, unable to dispute a single thing he's said.

"He's not right and neither are you. I love, Tate and he loves me. We're going to last. You two are just pessimistic about love and marriage." She states, with conviction.

"Realistic." Truex, corrects.

I nod in agreement. "Statistically, fifty percent of marriages end in divorce. You know what that means right? If Truex and I were married and sitting at the same table as the two of you, one of us would be getting a divorce."

She rolls her eyes, "Yeah, you guys of course."

"Yeah, that was a bad example." I concede, mulling it over.

"Duh, you guys are like two kids fighting over the same toy."

"What toy?" I ask, confused and not fully listening.

"Should've said, we're like oil and water." Truex suggests, understanding the point Mya was trying to make.

Jumping on the thought I add, "We get along like Charlie Sheen and sobriety."

"Or Tim Tebow and playing time." Truex states, making Mya laugh.

I glance at Truex, who's smirking at his own joke.

"What the hell is a, Tebow?" Mya laughs even harder and Truex shakes his head.

"Forget it." Mya pulls it together and points to the screen.

"Okay, back to the dresses. I'm leaning towards navy suits for the men and soft gold dresses for the girls. What do you think?" She asks, apprehensively.

I shrug, "Sure."

"Sure? I want your opinion." She shouts, frustrated.

"She can't have an opinion on a dress, she's never worn one." He mocks.

I glare at him, "Exactly, ask your brother for advice."

"Are you saying I wear dresses?"

"Well, you wear tights and in public." I reply, smiling.

"Who knows what you do when you're alone." I add, smirking.

He crosses his huge arms, "I don't wear tights."

"Yes, you do. Little gold ones with a little corset in the front to lace up. Its part of your football outfit." I remind him.

"Its called a uniform and what the fuck is corset?" He questions, annoyed.

"Well, Cinderella. Your uniform is awfully tight. Almost enticed me to watch a game once." I admit.

"Only interested in seeing players in their uniforms. You disappointment me, B." He replies, not looking very disappointed.

"Ew, no. I don't find men in tights attractive, just amusing." I clarify, wiping the smirk from his face.

"Pants. Not tights." He points out.

"Made of spandex? Really, you're splitting hairs here, Truex." I reply, earning another dirty look. I just love when I can shut him up.

I love working in my studio, its small and cramped, but it has the best natural light my little budget can afford. Its not in the safest neighborhood I admit, but it's worth it. I'm getting kicked out of my apartment, so I'll be staying here. I just couldn't give it up.

There's no kitchen which may be problematic.

However, there is running water and a bathroom. I finish the last brush stroke on my canvas and go the industrial wash tub, rinsing off my well used brushes and my palette. I have an hour until I have to meet Mya to workout, its all about solidarity. Mya's school is on spring break next week so she wants to get as much wedding planning done this week and over break as she possibly can.

I guess that includes exercising, something I'm not looking forward to.

When I get to Truex's house I knock out of courtesy, but really I would've walked right in if I thought he was gone. I need to find out why he's a