Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Another jostle, this time with a bit more impact, had Eloise reaching for the railing. While everyone rushed around her, she grabbed a hold of her luggage and slogged her way to the exit, grateful for the help provided by one of the crew members. He was kind enough to carry her luggage to the cobblestone road for her before running back to the ship. She sighed at the uneven pavement. The lack of taxis. And her dead phone.
“Crap.” With the amount of luggage she had, her options were now extremely limited—walk, or find a store nearby that would allow her to charge her phone so she could call her aunt. Eloise looked at her wrist, only to remember her watch had also died a few days ago and she didn’t have time to get it replaced before she left. That’s when she noticed the blue paint under her index finger. It was always some color, the aforementioned blue, or red, green, or orange. Sometimes it was a mixture of every color which turned into a muddied brown or black color. Last week it was purple and the week before that, yellow. If paint wasn’t underneath her nails, it was in her hair. On her elbows. Or in the lines of her skin. After a couple of all-nighters, she’d find paint behind her ears or a smear on her stomach, even though she wouldn’t remember how it got there.
“Eloise Harris, is that you?”
She turned at the sound of her name. Her eyes widened as she spotted her former classmate and onetime boyfriend, Fraser Horne. Eloise took him in and mentally compared what she remembered of him from years ago to the way he looked now. Fraser was still tall and lanky but had filled out a bit in some places. His facial features were more defined, but nothing else had changed. Fraser’s brown eyes were still soft and caring, and he still had a sweet smile. She would’ve known him anywhere had they run into each other.
Eloise hadn’t kept in contact with too many people from school when she left, mostly immersing herself in the art scene in London. Plus, the time difference made things difficult to keep in touch unless it was through social media, which she used mostly to show off her artwork.
“Fraser, hi.” They moved toward each other in the awkward should we hug or shake hands way, ultimately giving each other a half hug. “Wow, how are you?”
“I’m good. Good,” he said, repeating himself as his arms swayed back and forth. When things ended between them, it was because Eloise had no desire to maintain a long-distance relationship with him. When she would travel back to the US, it would be to visit her father in Iowa, and she didn’t want the pressure of being in a relationship. At seventeen, breaking up with your boyfriend was one the hardest things she thought she would ever do.
Eloise had been wrong.
Painting was.
It didn’t matter that she lived in Europe and could travel to some of the most beautiful countryside known to man or take the train to Paris or sit on the cliffs of Moher in Ireland. Finding inspiration during one of the most traumatic events in her life—her parents divorcing—and deciding to move away from Seaport, leaving her friends and classmates behind, as well as moving to a new country was hard. She missed the life she had in Seaport: her aunt, her friends, and the way her parents used to be prior to their divorce. Eloise thought she’d return to the states when she turned eighteen, but then had been accepted into two of the finest art schools in Europe, the Royal College of Art and Beaux-Arts de Paris. She accepted Paris because why not paint in the city of love and lights. Only, she hated everything about school. She didn’t like the structure or being told how her art should be or what it should represent. Eloise wanted to paint. It wasn’t like she wanted to be the next Monet or da Vinci. She wanted to be the first and only Eloise Harris.
“That’s great.” An awkward pause followed. They stood there on the street corner, with people walking around them and cars driving by, staring at each other. Fraser fidgeted. He ran his hand through his hair and his eyes darted around. Was he meeting someone? Maybe he had a girlfriend who he was going to meet on the ferry? Eloise cleared her thoughts. If he didn’t want to talk to her, he’d move along.
“Are you visiting or moving back?” he asked as he looked from her luggage to her.
“I’m here for at least the summer. I’ll be helping my aunt with her Endless Summer Showcase, and then we’ll see. I’ve missed Seaport, but—I don’t know; we’ll see what happens.” She shrugged.