A Pop Art Kiss #2
“Yes,” I say heavily. “I did say that. I do believe that. It’s just…
harder to believe it some days than others.
And I don’t want to walk around with my hopes up all the time.
So I didn’t say anything. But you can’t tell Wes,” I tell Josie and turn to Everly next.
“Or Max.” Then to Leighton, whose father is the coach. “Or your dad.”
She scoff-laughs. “Trust me, I’m not going to tell my dad.”
“Good. I haven’t even told Asher.”
“Why not?” Fable asks with a tilt of her head.
Because I know Asher. “If I tell him, he’ll march up to whoever’s in charge of hiring and demand they give me the assignment.” I turn to Josie. “And I didn’t tell you at first because I didn’t want you to have to keep it from Wes. He might try to help too.”
“He would,” Josie concedes. “He can’t help himself from helping.”
I laugh. “Truer words.” I let the laughter fade and share more. “I wanted to get it on my own. I don’t want to paint the walls of the arena knowing I wasn’t truly the artist who deserved it. I want to earn it,” I admit, my throat catching.
Sometimes, it’s hard to mask my feelings. Fine, most of the time. It sucks wearing your heart on your sleeve. Which is why most of my exes are, well, exes.
If you ask Gideon, the hedge fund manager I dated last year, he’ll say I’m too emotional, too interested, too clingy.
“I wish I had time for you, Maeve. But I don’t think any man can meet your needs,” he’d said.
Ironic because he loved being the center of attention when we went out.
Loved when I told him how handsome he was, how good he looked, and how fascinating he made the topic of finance this and ROI that.
But in the end, I was too much for him. Story of my dating life.
I don’t want the Sea Dogs to pick me because I’m too needy, too desperate for the commission, which is how it might seem if everyone I know in the organization pitched me to management. I want them to hire me because they’ve fallen in love with my sketches or they can’t resist my paintbrush.
Except, clearly, they can.
I shrug, then paste on my best “moving on” smile. “Anyway, it looks unlikely, and that’s fine. When I return from Vegas, I’ll be back hustling in the art world. Angelina snagged me another live painting gig—”
“What’s live painting?” Josie, always curious, leans closer. “And why have you never told me about it before?”
“It’s becoming more popular, actually. Some people hire painters to ‘live paint’ a wedding, a party, a celebration.”
“Sounds fun,” Fable chimes in, “and also nerve-racking.”
“It is!” I say. “Sometimes people set up camp and watch you paint the whole time. Angelina scheduled one for me tomorrow night, right after I return. A fashion designer is hosting an event at his home in Cow Hollow. It should be pretty fancy, with all sorts of art world types.”
“So, it’s a networking opportunity?” Everly asks.
I shake my head. “That’s frowned upon at events like this.
But that’s okay. Angelina’s lining up new gallery appointments.
” With stubborn optimism, I tick them off on my fingers.
“The Julien Aldridge Gallery, the Freida Claiborne Gallery…I catered for both of them. So, fingers crossed. Angelina’s also talking to all sorts of brands that are using public art.
Yoga studios, dance studios, boutiques, restaurants… ”
I want to be hopeful even with the Sea Dogs job falling through. But I feel my career teetering on the precipice of disaster. Like soon I’ll have to decide if I should throw in the towel.
But that’s too heavy a topic for today, and I focus on the positive. “Plus, Leighton is going to take pics of some of my mirrors and vases for my site and my social.” I give Leighton a one-armed hug. It’s awkward with her next to me in the booth, but I don’t mind.
“I can photograph you live painting, too, if you want,” Leighton suggests ever the savvy young businesswoman. “You can put that on your site.”
I let out a low whistle. “You’re good. You’re very good.”
“See?” Everly says brightly. “Even if the mural doesn’t happen, you’re working all the angles. And it’s wise to look for ways to expand your opportunities. You never know where the next gig will come from.”
“Sounds like the date in Vegas is coming at a good time,” Fable puts in. “You can get away for the night and then come back refreshed and ready to jump right back into it at the party.”
Or I’ll dive into some serious self-talk about whether or not my painting dreams are circling the drain. But I don’t mention that here.
“Exactly,” I say. “Flight’s early this afternoon.
I’ve got my playlist for the plane to get in an Outrageous Record state of mind.
I’ve got my favorite little skirt and a pair of cute pink boots for the show.
And then I plan to enjoy a fantastic night’s sleep at The Extravagant Hotel.
The band put together a nice package. I’m a big fan of hotel beds. I might even start a fan club.”
Fable’s hazel eyes widen. “You’re sharing a room with Asher?”
Laughing, I shake my head. “No. The package is for two rooms.”
“We have to request that,” Everly explains, all business. “When companies donate date packages to our player auctions, there can’t be any expectations of a romantic date at all.”
Fable’s brow furrows like she’s remembering something.
“But a Renegades quarterback once fell in love with his best friend after one of these auctions. Wilder was telling me about it.” Wilder’s both her boss and boyfriend.
“Cooper Armstrong, I think. But that was a while back. And back when the winning bids were twenty thousand dollars.”
Her tone’s hopeful and her glance speculative. My friends all have romance on their minds. No surprise—nearly all of them are happily paired up.
I can’t even imagine what a fulfilling partnership would be like in my life. How could I?
My mother always said, “Fulfill yourself first before you try to fulfill a partner.” Wise advice. My father was the opposite. All his happiness came from the way he worshiped my mother. Where did that blind adoration get him though, after her death?
His own end.
I breathe past the empty ache in my chest and focus on refuting Fable’s example. “Just because it happened to Cooper after a player auction doesn’t mean it’ll happen to us.”
Josie smiles impishly. “I don’t think we said anything would happen. But maybe it’s on your mind?”
I give her a pointed look. “It’s not,” I say.
I’d be terrible for Asher for so many reasons.
Hell, I’m terrible for me when it comes to romance.
I’m terrified of losing people, so I hold on too tightly.
And that painting kiss aside, our friendship works beautifully as is. I don’t want to risk anything more.
Fable hums, then tucks a strand of red hair behind her ear. “Seems like he likes putting up with you.”
“Well, we are friends,” I point out.
She laughs, shaking her head. “That’s not what I mean. I’ve seen the way you two are together.”
I frown, genuinely puzzled. “And?”
“And you kind of flirt with Asher,” she says with a knowing smile.
A flash of guilt lances through me. Like, wrapping my arms around him in public?
Like, pretending he’s mine in front of that woman?
Like, kissing him on the sidewalk? But that wasn’t even a real kiss.
I can’t get caught up in it any more than I already did earlier in the week.
“Fine, we like to tease each other,” I concede.
“But it’s not really flirting. We’re just comfortable. ”
Everly chuckles, taking a sip of her latte. “If that’s what you want to call it.”
“That’s what it is,” I say firmly.
Josie narrows her eyes at me. “But you did kiss him last week.”
I sit up straighter, caught off guard. I didn’t tell them about the kiss on the street. There wasn’t anything to tell, really. That kiss was to get Miranda off his back. “How did you know about that?”
Leighton seems to fight off a smile. “The Internet.”
Josie lifts a playful brow. “You know, that thing where people post pictures of other people?” She pulls out her phone and shows me a picture on the social media feed of someone with the handle SeaDogsfangirl.
It must be someone who was at the auction.
The picture is taken from a distance, and it’s dark, but there it is—Asher kissing me.
My chest goes a little tingly as I look at it. A fizzy feeling spreads briefly under my skin, and I’m reliving that kiss once more.
But I’ve been accused of being the world’s clingiest girlfriend, so I’m definitely not clinging to this—a kiss with my brother’s best friend. A kiss with my friend. A fake kiss, for all intents and purposes.
Even though, as I look at the picture, I feel that kiss in every cell in my body.