Drift (Lengths) Read Online Free PDF

slides and making notes, I’m walking the campus, sitting on benches outside the building where Lydia Rodriguez’s class met, hoping to catch a glimpse again.
    Just when I was wishing that Lydia would hunt me down and find me—which women have done before, to my delight and dismay—I heard a knock at my door.
    Mia showed up at my apartment, and it was incredibly easy to press her back and gently show her the door. I knew sex with her would be impossible. I’d spend the entire time thinking of Lydia, her tanned skin, all that shiny, soft hair, her big eyes, a warm, wicked golden-brown. My fingers would be itching to trace Lydia’s curves and my tongue would be hungry for the taste of her sweat-slicked skin.
    Completely impossible.
    “Isaac,” Mia had breathed, pressing her ample chest against me. “We had so much fun the last weekend we were together. I’m ready for that again. I’m ready to be with you.”
    I put my hands on her shoulders, looked into her big, innocent eyes, and regretted starting anything with her. I had a feeling she might fall harder and faster than I would, and when it became clear I wasn’t at risk for falling at all, I should have cut things off. But I didn’t, and now she’ll wind up hurt, which was never my intention.
    “I care about you, Mia. I do. As a friend, I want what’s best for you. But things are crazy right now, and I just don’t think it’s a good time for either of us to get serious.”
    Her eyes shadowed. “Really? That’s not what you said when we locked ourselves in that hotel room all weekend. I guess I didn’t realize you were only after one thing.” She yanked her body away from my hold and crossed her arms over her chest, her lips pinched tight.
    “Mia, we talked about keeping things low-key. Neither one of us went into this expecting anything long-term —”
    “Maybe that’s not what we expected , but what about what happened between us?” she asked, throwing her hand up. Then she studied my face and shook her head when the realization hit. She wiped at her eyes quickly and hiccupped a sob. “Oh. I see. It was just me. You weren’t feeling it at all. My god, I’m an idiot. I’m so stupid.”
    “Stop saying that.” I walked toward her, but the eager shine in her eyes stopped me. Because it was over, and I wanted her to know that. But I hated how much it was hurting her. “If you felt more than I did, I’m sorry…”
    I trailed off, because what was I supposed to say? Mia sucked her cheeks in and backed away, giving me one long, harsh look before she slammed the door hard behind her.
    Yes, I felt pangs of guilt. I felt like a huge jerk. But I also felt like Mia leaving gave me the opportunity to make a clean break and start new. With someone new.
    Someone I can’t stop thinking about, even if it’s not rational. Someone different from the needy, over-eager girls I’ve wasted too much time with.
    Lydia is unlike anyone I’ve been with before.
    She’s guarded, but when she opens herself up, it’s like she lets every defense fall to the wayside, and that vulnerability? It’s something rare.
    I think about it as I set up the easel in my studio, right under the length of skylights that made me decide on this place over other apartments with more square footage or better locations. The ceilings rise and dive at strange angles, and the rooms run together like a crooked jigsaw, but the light . There’s no way to recreate natural light like this, and I’m thankful for every sunny day I get to spend in front of my canvas.
    I set the music on my iPod loud, strip down to just my jeans, and prepare a tray of oil paint. I start mixing, letting my brain unhook from every worry that’s tethered me all week long. I shift colors, trying to get the perfect blend of gold with shots of deep brown to capture the color of Lydia’s eyes when she was deep in memory. I sketch and erase over and over, attempting to capture the curve of her lips when she smiled