Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Florian, it turns out, is a great dancer.
Which is something I didn’t expect. But he’s more relaxed now.
I can’t say I’m a brilliant dancer, but I definitely have enthusiasm on my side and my friends around me.
And, well, Florian. We’ve both ditched our suit jackets and rolled up our sleeves, and we’re having a great time on the dance floor.
His expression’s eased, and he actually looks like he’s having fun.
When we finally stop for more water, we meet Noah and Raheem at the bar, and I make introductions all around.
“Florian, these are my friends Noah and Raheem from uni. Florian’s my date for the night,” I explain.
They already looked intrigued when they spotted us approaching, and they’d probably talked to Paul or Caden or both.
At dinner, they were further down the long table, and though I caught Noah looking curiously at us, he was too far away to talk to.
“Great to meet you,” Raheem says smoothly, all charm as he shakes Florian’s hand. Noah follows suit.
“The pleasure is mine. I’m glad to meet Matty’s friends tonight and celebrate Paul and Caden.” Florian’s just as smooth.
By some miracle, I keep from looking surprised, even though I am. He’s definitely putting up a great fake-boyfriend effort. He sounds genuine. First my art, now my friends. Heady stuff, but it’s not real. We have a deal, after all, and he’s following through on our plan.
Noah looks amused. “Having fun?” he asks us.
I grin and nod. “Yeah, totally. It’s great to see everyone again. And for Paul and Caden, of course.”
“Well, we’re glad to see you, especially after your life in the big city,” Noah says. He can’t quite keep the open curiosity from his face as he studies Florian. “And it’s the first time we’ve met any of Matty’s London friends.”
“It’s the first time I’ve met any of Matty’s Brighton friends,” Florian acknowledges in kind. I’m starting to feel like I’m the topic of too much scrutiny.
“Let’s not make this weird, guys,” I say lightly, slipping my hand into Florian’s. His fingers tighten around mine. A shiver ripples up my spine at his touch.
“Just a little weird, please?” Noah teases me. “It’s been too long. Matty’s been very mysterious about what he’s been up to in London since he left Brighton.”
“Nothing too exciting other than trying to get myself set up in London. It’s harder than I thought it would be,” I confess. “But I have a job at a bar, at least, so that’s something.”
“What have you been painting?” Raheem asks curiously. “With all those London galleries, you must have so much inspiration. And a chance to get to know people.”
I cough, glancing away. “I haven’t been painting yet. I’ve been busy.”
Florian squeezes my hand again and comes to my rescue. “Matty went with me to an art auction, where he gave me excellent insights into the art.”
“I swear you could have found out the same stuff in the catalogue,” I protest, but I can’t help but smile at Florian. And it’s true he’s been involved in the first real art thing I’ve done in London.
“It’s not the same.” Florian shakes his head, also smiling. His gaze catches mine, and my face warms ever so slightly under his attention. The way he looks at me right now is as if I’m the only other person in the room with him. Like I’m special. Noteworthy.
I make myself look away, drawing in a slow breath before I recover. “Yeah, I’m moonlighting as an art consultant now,” I quip.
“Not bad work if you can get it,” Noah agrees, nodding. “That’s really great.”
“And you’re both artists too?” Florian asks.
They nod.
“I’m a painter too, like Matty,” Noah explains easily, sliding an arm around Raheem’s waist, who leans into him. “And Raheem’s a sculptor.”
“You should come see our work sometime. We both have pieces in the group show at the Rose & Crown right now,” Raheem encourages me. “If you’re staying on in Brighton.”
“We have to get back to London tomorrow. I’ve got to work in the evening,” I say, disappointed. It would be great to spend more time with my friends in Brighton. But I have shifts lined up at Ivan’s I can’t afford to miss. “Another time.”
“Maybe you can have work in the next group show at the Rose?” Noah encourages me. “Ellie’s curating.”
“We’ll see.” I squirm slightly. I don’t want to tell them outright I’m not painting anything.
Plus, they’re both putting their work out there, a year ahead to have their legs under them, while I can barely pull a pint, it feels like.
I’m not going to become a server anytime soon, that’s for sure, and Florian can vouch for me on that front.
Florian places a hand on the small of my back, and my arms are immediately covered in goose bumps. “Let’s dance?” he suggests.
We go and dance ’til last call. The dancing cheers me up and pushes aside my discouraged feelings about my whole lack of art practice while everyone else is getting on with theirs.
Sure, it sounds like it’s cool to be in London, but it’s also expensive, and right now, I’m just trying to survive.
Creating work isn’t a luxury I have time for.
Or space. And the outlook isn’t good for now.
At least tonight, I’m here with friends, and there’s comfort in that.
And Florian.
The last people standing head out of the wedding venue.
Paul and Caden left some time ago, and a group of friends and family volunteered to come back early to take down the decorations and tidy up.
Which leaves me gazing at Florian as we retrieve our suit jackets.
He’s readjusting his sleeves, fastening his cufflinks.
He always looks so assured. I wish I could channel a fraction of that energy.
“Ready to go?” Florian asks, glancing up.
“Yeah.” I slide my hands into my pockets and nod, turning to lead the way out into the chill July night.
It’s refreshing, the air with its humidity clinging to my skin.
The streets are wet, though the rain has passed.
I shiver and start to lead the way back to the hotel. I’m loose-limbed from all the wine.
Once we’re down the street from the venue, Florian glances over at me. We walk past shuttered shopfronts. Traffic is light on the street. “Are you alright? Did I do something to upset you?”
I blink, looking over at him. “No! What makes you think that?”
“You’ve gone quiet,” he says wryly.
My face reddens. Shit, very smooth, I tell myself. Of course he’ll think he’s done something wrong. “Oh no, it’s nothing you’ve done. It’s all me. Just thinking.”
“Want to talk about it?”
I give him another sidelong glance, sharper this time.
“I don’t know if you want to see inside my head, to be honest. It’s messy.
” Which is probably more than I should admit to, but I’ve had a lot of wine, and so has Florian, though all the dancing and water have helped a little.
But being around my friends has made me feel more vulnerable than I expected, with complicated feelings.