The next few days were long ones, with studio classes followed by ghost tours in the evenings. Cory had turned up for her tour on Thursday night, and followed along for the earlier stops before breaking off at the Wench’s Den - since he’d already seen the rest of the route from there.
Cory was his usual reserved self, but did ask a few questions. They were good ones, and opened up the floodgate of questions from what had been a pretty quiet group. After he left, she found that she rather missed his probing questions, and his quiet but supportive presence.
She woke on Friday morning, which was her only free day, to the sound of the doorbell. She groaned, and rubbed at her eyes, cursing the postman. She was expecting a care package from her parents, but did he have to actually ring the bell? She supposed being woken before nine in the morning was better than letting her package get picked off by the porch pirates who frequented the area.
Savannah climbed down from her bed and scratched a bit at her lower back as she shuffled toward the door. She pulled her shirt down before opening the door, and blinked in the morning light. There was no one there; not that she really expected the postman to stick around. Normally, they stuck around just long enough to toss the package onto the front step and ring the doorbell. But, aside from there being no postman, there was also no package. Savannah frowned, rubbed at her eyes, and looked around a second time, but the results were no different.
After a moment, Savannah retreated back into her apartment with a deep sigh. She shuffled toward her bed, which was tucked into the back corner of her apartment. Although her place was a relatively open studio and had no separate rooms, aside from the bathroom, there was a wall that split the apartment in half. The kitchen was centered on the front part of the wall that faced the front door, while her lofted bed and desk was behind it.
She paused at the ladder leading up to her bed. She stared longingly up at her rumpled covers, then sighed and turned away. She was already awake; she should take advantage of the light while she could. After a quick breakfast of fruity cereal that turned her to swirls of rainbow color, she settled herself at the easel. She’d set up a still life for herself a week or so earlier, consisting of antique books, a tea cup, and some faux fruit in a wooden bowl, all arranged onto a lace tablecloth.
Savannah stretched, flexing her fingers, and rotated her arm from the shoulder in an odd, circular flapping motion. Then, she focused on the small canvas in front of her, which already had a light pencil sketch of the little scene. After studying the sketch and the scene in front of her for a few minutes, she then picked up the tube of black paint and squeezed a little bit onto her palette - which was just a sheet of thick plexiglass set on top of a small side table where she also kept her tubes of paint and a jar full of various paint brushes.
She started by spotting her blacks. Her brush swished and flicked across the butter smooth surface of the gesso coated canvas that she’d stretched and prepared herself, filling in the darkest darks that comprised the core of the shadows. Once her underpainting had been established, she would start building the shades out, expanding into color, and finally add the bright highlights that would give the piece contrast.
The clock on the wall, which saw very little use as Savannah had a tendency to look at her phone for the time, gently ticked the seconds by as she painted. The sound eventually faded into the background, and before Savannah knew it the morning had just about passed her by. If her phone hadn’t dinged, she probably would have painted straight through lunch and into the evening. She shook her head a little, setting the paint brush aside and getting up with a bit of a grunt. She hadn’t looked at her phone since sitting down, and it took her a few minutes to figure out where she left it. She picked it up from the kitchen counter, unlocked it, and was surprised to see a message from Cory. The last time he’d texted her had been to let her know when the memorial service for his brother had been.
“You’re going to be training me on my first tour tomorrow night. Bit nervous. Can you go over the route with me? We can discuss over tea tomorrow afternoon. My treat.”
The first message said. It was followed by a shorter message.
“I won’t flirt.”
Savannah clicked her tongue against her teeth, a light blush coloring her cheeks as she considered how to respond. She stretched her neck back and forth, and pinched at the bridge of her nose. Her head was hurting, reminding her that she might have had breakfast but she had yet to feed her caffeine addiction.
“Tea sounds good.” she tapped out the simple response, sending it off before she lost confidence. “Noon tomorrow at the Gryphon?”
She was surprised at the speed of his response to her text. It came almost immediate, “Sure thing. See you then.”
She wasn’t sure connecting with Cory was a great idea. But, he seemed just as lonely as she felt, and maybe they could both use a friend right now.
Speaking of things she could use, she could really use a cup of coffee. She could feel the headache creeping behind her eyes. Savannah pulled a loose, comfy university hoodie on over the camisole and shorts she’d slept in, not bothering with a bra; she didn’t have the assets to worry about wearing one when she was just doing a coffee run. She stuffed her keys, wallet, and phone into the front pouch of her hoodie, then checked herself in the mirror by the door and grimaced.
It only took a few more minutes for her to throw her hair back into a high, messy bun, give her teeth a scrub, and wash the dried sleep from her eyes before finally heading out. It was probably too late to bump into Mario at the Sentient Bean, but she had some standards; she didn’t want to go out looking like a total wreck.
As she made her way down Park toward her preferred caffeine mecca, Savannah pulled out a chapstick and gave her lips a quick coat of strawberry goodness - which reminded her that she should probably get something to eat too. She smiled and waved as she passed one of her neighbors, Jordan, who smiled and hailed her, looking back and forth before jogging across the road and over to where she’d stopped on the sidewalk.
Jordan towered over Savannah at well over six feet tall, and probably would have been intimidating with his fit, muscular stature had she not known that he was a gentle giant. They’d bumped into each other a few times when leaving for their respective classes, and struck up a friendship over their joint love of history and coffee. She’d thought at first that he might be interested in her, but that little spark died off pretty quick after he introduced her to his boyfriend, Charlie.
“Hey Savvie, what up girl?” Jordan said, smiling warmly at her. “You and Marina comin’ to trivia at the Rocko tonight?”
She shook her head, giving him an apologetic look. “No, sorry. Marina’s got work, but she’s been trying to get them to give her afternoon shifts instead. Hopefully next week.”
“You know the Memellenial Falcon can’t fly without you girls.” Jordan said, referring to their would-be trivia team. They’d won a tournament the previous semester, but had been having a hard time getting their schedules lined up. “Oh, and I still haven’t found someone to replace John. We need someone who can do pop culture. If you find someone, let me know.”
“Why don’t you just bring Charlie?” Savannah asked. “Doesn’t he keep up with all the trendy stuff?”
Savannah herself tended to watch documentaries, true crime, and cooking shows, which she found inspiring despite the fact that her every attempt at recreating dishes from them ended with tears - tears caused by the acrid smoke that inevitably filled her flat. She was awful at cooking. It was one of those adult skills that she’d only vaguely gotten a handle on, and part of the reason she worked despite her crushing course load. She needed money for take out.
“Yeah, if by ‘pop culture’ you mean show tunes and trashy reality tv. We need like… ugh, I hate to say it, but we need one of them neckbeards that thinks Star Wars is real. Or even a comic book nerd. This school is full of them, we just need to rope one in.”
“Sure, I’ll keep an eye out.” Savannah replied easily.
Jordan glanced at his watch, “Sorry girl, I gotta jet. I’ma ‘boutta be late, and you know how these Profs are about that.”
Jordan jogged off, giving her a bit of a wave as he went, and turned the corner at Habersham in the direction of the Dresanno Hall. She continued in the opposite direction, her growing headache somewhat tempered by the warm afternoon sun - though by the time she got to the bean her head was starting to throb.
When she finally opened the door of the Sentient Bean and was greeted by the wondrous smell of smooth, warm coffee, Savannah breathed deep. She thought she could feel her headache starting to ease at just the smell of caffeinated goodness.
As expected, Mario wasn’t there - but she could hardly be disappointed. In just a few minutes she was being handed a fresh cup of steaming vanilla latte with whipped cream and a dash of cinnamon on top, and a small plate with a she licked her lips with anticipation. Savannah only realized that the barista was also holding out the breakfast croissant that she’d also ordered when the young woman cleared her throat.
“Hey, you’re an art student, right? Have you seen this?” the brunette barista behind the counter asked as Savannah took her sleeved cup and paper packet containing her toasted sandwich, which wafted the greasy smell of bacon. She motioned to the stack of flyers on the counter. “Please feel free to take one, if you’re interested.”
Savannah took one of the flyers and stepped away, making room for the next customer in line to pick up their orders. As she made her way back outside, she read over the flyer - which was advertising a portraiture contest being sponsored and exhibited at the Bean. She made a ‘hmmm’ sound as she considered it; she preferred landscapes to portraits, but it might be fun.