Brushstrokes | Dalton Lambert

02

I was perched on a boy's bed in his dorm room, which was an unusual circumstance for me. But, before you make any assumptions, it's not what you're thinking. Let me rewind and tell you the entire story.

Dalton and I had met up again, a chance contact that had led to this strange circumstance. I had told him that I didn't have a roommate and that I was new to Los Angeles. In answer, he casually invited me to his room to meet his roomate, who happened to be a girl. Despite the oddity of the situation, I accepted, relishing the spontaneity that LA seemed to produce.

So here I was, lounging on Chris' bed in my comfy pajamas, while she skillfully played what I believe was a Shania Twain melody on a Melodica. I must admit, she was impressively cool. I had tried my hand at the Melodica, or as she called it, a "hooter," but my musical prowess was far from impressive. Dalton had excused himself for a quick shower, leaving me in the company of this intriguing duo.

The weariness of my travels and the day's adventures with Serena were starting to catch up with me. Despite the exhaustion, I was thoroughly enjoying myself, basking in the liberating energy that LA seemed to radiate. As Chris continued her impromptu musical performance, I played mindless games on my phone, letting the relaxation wash over me.

Just as my eyes were beginning to droop, Dalton reentered the room, his presence instantly eliciting a smile from me. "Hey there," I greeted him, my smile warm and genuine.

"You can tell it's Shania Twain, right?" Chris chimed in, pausing her musical interlude for a moment.

"Yeah," Dalton replied, ruffling his damp hair as he took a seat on his bed.

Their conversation turned to mundane topics – housing and roommates. My mind drifted as they chatted, my thoughts wandering to the upcoming frat party that Serena insisted I attend. It wasn't exactly my scene, but free alcohol and a chance to have some fun were convincing factors. What should I wear to a frat party, anyway?

"Judy," Chris's voice snapped me out of my reverie.

"Yeah?" I responded, blinking back into the conversation.

"What's some weird shit about you?" she inquired.

I shrugged and shot back, "Why don't you go first?"

With a confident grin, Chris shared her oddity, "Well, on Sundays, I wear a monocle and order takeout in a British accent."

Dalton and I exchanged raised eyebrows and simultaneous exclamations of "That's weird." We shared a brief amused glance at our synchronized responses before refocusing on Chris.

Dalton took the next turn, admitting, "Okay, sometimes I eat instant oatmeal without any water or milk. Just dry."

Chris deadpanned, "You're bad at this. Let's try again."

Dalton complied, revealing a more personal tidbit, "When I was ten, I was in a coma for a year. Viral meningitis. I woke up one day, and a whole year had passed."

Jude spoke up, "That's really weird."

As the conversation took an unexpectedly somber turn, I decided to share my quirk.  "I moved here because my best friend passed away. He told me to follow my dreams, so here I am."

Dalton expressed sympathy, but I quickly assured him, "It's okay. It's been a while."

Chris skilfully steered the conversation back to lighter territory, guiding us toward the end of the night. Yawning, I checked the time, realizing it was getting late.

"I'm calling it a night, guys. Goodnight," I announced, stretching and making my way to the door.

"Goodnight!" Dalton and Chris chorused in unison.

Exiting their room, Jude's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The evening had been an unexpected blend of connections, laughter, and the unveiling of the lives of her newfound friends. Los Angeles, with its vibrant energy and magnetic pull, seemed to be weaving a tapestry of bonds in the most unpredictable ways.

Walking down the hallway, her steps were leisurely, her mind replaying the conversations and camaraderie that had unfolded. Unbeknownst to her, Dalton was experiencing his own internal conflict within the confines of their room. With a towel in hand and his hair half-dried, he sat on his bed, locked in a mental tug-of-war.

Chris, ever perceptive, glanced at Dalton and playfully nudged him, urging him to take action. "Go on, she's probably still waiting for the elevator," she prodded, a knowing smile on her lips.

In a sudden surge of determination, Dalton abandoned the towel and left his room in swift strides. His heart raced as he approached the elevators, where he found Jude standing, engrossed in her phone. Her light pink pyjamas, a matching set, complemented her form as her dark hair cascaded over her shoulder in a casually elegant mess.

"Hey, Judy!" Dalton greeted, his voice carrying a mixture of confidence and excitement.

Startled, Jude looked up and met his gaze, only to be met with the sight of a shirtless Dalton. Her gaze inadvertently flickered over his toned torso, a momentary indulgence she couldn't deny herself. Flustered, she quickly met his eyes again, her cheeks taking on a faint rosy hue – a telltale sign of her blush that she desperately hoped he wouldn't notice.

Of course, he did notice, the electric tension between them palpable. Their eyes locked, holding a shared secret that neither dared to voice. Jude's eyes, sparkling with life, were a feature Dalton couldn't help but admire. And as they stood in that charged moment, the confirmation of their attraction seemed to solidify.

"Um, I was wondering if I could get your number," Dalton stammered, a mix of nerves and hope evident in his voice. His gaze flickered away and back to her, his eyes dancing with uncertainty.

Jude was on the verge of responding with an eager "yes" when Dalton continued, his words tumbling out as if he was racing against his own thoughts. "You know, for classes or if we want to hang out or anything," he rambled, pulling out his phone in an attempt to sound casual while his heart raced.

A playful smile tugged at the corners of Jude's lips. She saw through his nerves and his endearing attempt to be nonchalant. "Sure, Dalton," she said, the elevator door opening just then.

Without missing a beat, he handed her his phone, their fingers brushing briefly as she took it. With a quick smile, Jude typed in her number, adding a smiley face beside her name.

"Goodnight!" she chirped, handing his phone back to him before darting into the elevator.

"Goodnight!" Dalton called after her, his voice warm and genuine.

As the elevator doors slid shut, the silence that followed was filled with the echoes of unspoken emotions and the electric charge that had enveloped them. Dalton remained rooted to his spot for a moment, his heart pounding, a grin spreading across his face.

He was left standing there, gazing at the closed elevator doors, a newfound sense of anticipation swirling within him. The energy of the night, the laughter shared, and the spark between them had all culminated in a simple exchange of numbers. But for Dalton, it was the beginning of something he couldn't quite define yet – a connection that held potential. As he settled into bed, the echoes of their laughter and the connection lingered in his thoughts, leaving him with a sense of excitement for the unpredictable days that lay ahead.

[author's note]

Hello readers, hope you're enjoying the story so far, be sure to comment and vote if you do!

The rest of the chapters for this fanfiction will be published next week!

Have a great day!

- Anise