Page 33 of Open Liner
The stroke of purple burst on the page, the bright color against stark white reassuring in a way little else was. The sunset by a pier was a piece that had been cycling through my head ever since that night. Something about the clear lines of the shadowed pier, the crisp salt breeze making my head spin, and the pure magic that had dwelled between Drake and I during the show had stuck with me.
Finding that sort of chemistry was rare.
Rarer even to find chemistry that spanned beyond a single night.
I chewed on my lower lip as I coaxed more color onto the page.
“New painting?” Caspian asked, hovering over my stall. His shock of bright orange hair fit his temperament perfectly, a frequent comment he hated. Even though he was all scowls and crossed arms, he was a secret softy. Not as cuddly as Owen, but prickly like a hedgehog.
“Yeah, I’ve got a little bit before my next one,” I said, returning my focus to the page.
“Damn, that’s good, Auggie,” he said, letting out a low whistle. “Are you going to put that up for sale when you’re done?”
“Not sure yet.” Part of me wanted to give this to Drake, but was that too gooey? “Is it weird to give your fuck buddy a picture?”
Cas snorted. “It is if they think you’re casual and you’re all in, like usual.”
“Rude,” I said. “What if it was a tastefully painted dick?”
“Honestly, if dick pics were painted rather than shot, I’d much prefer receiving them,” Cas said. “The amount of guys who think they have a quality cock when it’s less than average is staggering.”
“Ouch,” I said. “No cock judgment.”
“Disagree,” he said. “You send me an unprompted cock pic, and I’ll judge the fuck out of it.”
I snorted. “So if I send you one, I’ll get a full analysis? Is it like divination of the cock? Cocktomancy?”
“Whoa, who’s doing Cocktomancy?” Rory asked, swinging in. He perched on the edge of my desk and swung his legs back and forth.
“Don’t you have clients?” Cas snarked.
Rory lifted his middle finger. “Don’t be mad because I’m more efficient than you, Mr. Meticulous.”
“Pretty sure that’s a good trait for a tattoo artist,” Caspian responded, his tone cracker-dry.
“Might just be because piercings are faster than tattoos,” I suggested, cutting through this before they bickered for the next hour. Rory and Cas would pick a topic and roll. Arguing was a sport for them.
“Where have you been lately?” Rory asked, switching the topic at a whiplash pace. “I noticed you didn’t come home the other night.”
I wrinkled my nose. Fuck, I didn’t even know what was going on between Drake and I other than really hot sex. We talked every dayand were already making plans around our schedules to fit in time whenever we could. My pitiful heart whirred in overdrive.
“Would no comment work?” I asked, knowing it wouldn’t. “Look, I’m not even in a position to be chasing a relationship.”
“But you’re two seconds away from proposing,” Cas teased, a glint in his eyes.
I flipped him the middle finger and placed my paintbrush down. “I don’t even know if I’ll be here at the end of the year, so getting into a relationship isn’t a great plan. Plus, he’s my ex’s brother, and I’m pretty sure there’s a law against that or something.”
“Unless you’re in a throuple with the siblings, you’re not breaking any laws,” Cas argued. “And I guess since you wouldn’t be the one incest-ing, it still wouldn’t be breaking any?”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Rory said. “What the fuck are you talking about? Whether you’ll be here or not?”
Oh, shit. Me and my big mouth.
“Look, nothing is decided, but my folks want me to move down to Florida with them,” I muttered.
“I thought you didn’t want to?” Rory asked, his brows drawing together. I could hear the upset bubbling in his voice because he was shit at hiding his emotions, even though he deflected like a motherfucker.
I scrubbed my face. Ugh, this was too complicated to peel open. And I hadn’t even brought up the Drake factor. Rory wasn’t wrong. I didn’t want to. I liked living in the Northeast. But I couldn’t dispel the fear that everyone was going to leave me if I stayed. Folks moved on from work. Rory would move out. And it wasn’t like I’d had any luck in finding a lasting partner.
