Chapter Fourteen
There are butterflies in my stomach and my hands are fidgety when I arrive at the event room in the library where the art class is taking place.
Not only am I popping my art class cherry, I’m also meeting up with Darryl again.
While our initial date went without a hiccup and I think we both had a great time, we haven’t spoken since, apart from a couple of messages we exchanged about the class.
The room is set up with easels arranged in a semi-circle around a raised platform, with paints and equipment organised on a long table at the back.
There are already a few people in the room, huddled in small groups, and I’m relieved to see Darryl in one of them.
He spots me, a wide smile spreading across his face, and he separates himself from the others and makes his way over.
‘You made it.’ He holds his arms out and I think he’s going to envelop me in a hug, but he simply lets them fall back down to his sides. ‘Come and meet the others. I’ve told them all about you.’
I feel a warm glow as I follow Darryl further into the room. He’s told his arty friends about me? That must be a good sign, surely.
‘Guys, this is Christina.’ Darryl moves aside so his friends can see me as we approach.
‘The very nice, very gracious lady who not only didn’t blast me about tripping her up, but she also found Donald and stopped him mauling some poor woman.
’ Darryl holds his hands out to present me as I come to a stop in front of his friends.
‘Christina, this is Amara and Ansel, two very good friends of mine and owners of the infamous Peggy.’
Amara shoves a hand over her mouth and jabs her elbow playfully into Darryl’s ribs. ‘You did not tell her about that.’
Darryl shrugs. ‘Of course I did. I tell everyone about Peggy.’ He laughs and turns to the third and final member of his group. ‘And this is Tana, my fiancée.’
The smile locks on my face, frozen and frenzied-looking. Fiancée? What the hell?
‘It’s so good to meet you, Christina.’ Tana holds out a hand, her fingers full of a rainbow of gem-set rings.
‘Darryl is so grateful for what you did the other day. I’m not sure what he would have done if you hadn’t found Donald.
Failing to return a dog is not good for the dog-walking business.
’ Tana giggles and I titter, mouth still frozen.
‘Darryl says you’ve never been to an art class before? ’
I shake my head. My mouth is starting to ache.
‘Well, I am honoured that you’ve chosen to try my class.
It’s an informal session and we’re all so supportive of each other, so don’t worry, just enjoy.
’ She smiles at me, her eyes crinkling at the edges, before she claps her hands together and addresses the whole group.
‘Shall we begin with a little warm-up exercise?’
The rictus grin finally melts away as I stand in front of an easel, sandwiched between Darryl and Amara, a blank sheet of paper waiting for me and a pencil in hand.
Tana holds court in front of the raised platform, instructing the group on the first five-minute warm-up exercise, but I don’t catch everything she says as my mind is still whirling.
Darryl has a fiancée – and not even a secret one.
He’s invited me to her art class, introduced me to her and their friends.
Was that… not a date the other night? Was it simply a genuinely nice guy who felt bad about tripping me up with the dogs’ leads offering to buy me a drink as an apology?
And the invite to the art class was from one art enthusiast to another? Nothing more, nothing less.
Oh my goat.
I am an idiot.
A really, really big idiot.
Massive.
Ginormous.
The biggest idiot known to man. And there is quite a lot of competition for that title right now.
It wasn’t a date! This isn’t a date. It’s an art class I’ve shelled out nearly twenty quid for.
‘Is everything okay over here?’ Tana appears at my side, her voice so low I have to concentrate to decipher the words.
While everyone else is sketching away, I have yet to put pencil to paper.
She places a hand on my arm as she studies my blank page.
‘Don’t overthink it, Christina. Simply let go and find that happy place.
’ She squeezes my arm gently and then she moves on, her steps soft and inaudible.
Don’t overthink it? It’s a bit too late for that, I’m afraid.
My cheeks burn as I sneak a peek at Darryl.
His eyes are squinted in concentration as his pencil glides across the paper and I see the image of a tree emerging.
I turn to check out Amara’s easel, which contains what appears to be a rough sketch of a bedroom.
What am I supposed to be drawing? What is the connection between a tree and a bedroom?
Maybe the tree isn’t the focus of the drawing.
Perhaps Darryl is going to add a treehouse, with the subject of both drawings being dwellings?
Hoping for the best, I bash out a crude drawing of a tent, because there are only a couple of minutes of the exercise left.
There is no treehouse in Darryl’s drawing by the end of the task, but Tana simply gives a nod and a ‘very nice’ as she passes my crap-looking tent and we move onto the next exercise.
I listen more carefully this time, trying my hardest to push away the mortification about my misunderstanding.
Did Darryl know I’d mistaken his gratitude for something more?
No, no, no. I push the question aside and concentrate on sketching the apple Tana has placed on the platform. I will not answer that question. I don’t want to. Because what if he did know? It’s one thing knowing I’m an idiot, it’s quite another having everyone else realise it too.
‘Very nice, Christina.’ Tana has stopped by my easel again, nodding as she appraises the beginnings of my apple sketch.
‘But try not to get too hung up on the details at this stage. Get a feel of the overall shape to start with and then you can add in nuances and the lights and shadows.’ She smiles at me, a gentle hand on my shoulder, and then she wafts away, leaving me to put her advice into practice.
I concentrate on the marks my pencil is making on the paper, thoughts of Darryl and dogs and dates drifting away as the image grows.
I’ve pretty much managed to banish the inner turmoil by the third and final warm-up exercise, and it dissolves completely as the subject of our actual task arrives and arranges himself on the platform, completely naked, with not even the apple to cover his area.
Not that an apple could cover it. My cheeks burn again, but it’s nothing to do with my blunder this time.
I can’t let my mind wander when there is a naked man lounging in front of me.
And I have to draw it. Him! I have to draw him (but also it).
My blush burns deeper every time I catch the guy’s eye, which is a lot (why did I have to pick the easel at this angle?) and my body burns so brightly when he winks at me that I’m surprised I don’t self-combust and set off the fire alarm.
I somehow get through the rest of the class and produce a pencil sketch that isn’t bad and Tana is full of admiration when she appraises it.
I feel a warm glow of pride in myself as I accept Tana’s praise, and while the art class may not have been what I was expecting, it feels like the start of something else.
The chance to develop my skills, to pour myself wholeheartedly into something and unleash my creativity.
‘We’ve got Alejandro for the next three weeks.
Perhaps you could try another medium next time?
Charcoal, perhaps? Or go wild with watercolours?
’ Tana spreads her arms wide, to demonstrate the wildness she was referring to.
‘Have a think about it, yeah?’ She squeezes my arm.
‘We usually go for a drink after class in the pub down the road. You’ll join us, won’t you? ’
I would quite like to scuttle home and bury my head under my pillow until I’ve forgotten all about my mix-up, but I also don’t want to give the impression that I’m scuttling home to bury my head under my pillow until I’ve forgotten all about my mix-up, and so I end up agreeing to decamp to the pub down the road.
‘I was hoping you’d be here.’
The voice in my ear as I wait to order at the bar makes me jump, and I’m startled further when I turn to see the naked model from the art class standing behind me. Except he isn’t naked now. He’s wearing jeans and a beige rib-knit polo shirt.
‘Sorry. I bet you don’t recognise me with my clothes on.
’ He winks at me and I’m surprised again when I don’t self-combust. ‘Alejandro. Ally.’ He holds his hand out and when I take it, he lifts my hand up to his lips to kiss.
And I know it’s super-cheesy and I’d mock Rhys until he died of shame if he ever did that to a woman, but I feel my knees soften and my pulse quicken.
‘Christina.’ My voice comes out all squeaky, as though the super-cheesiness has turned me into a mouse. I clear my throat and hope that when I next speak, I sound like a human. ‘And I did recognise you. With your, er, clothes on.’
The ginormous idiot hath returned.
‘Let me.’ He indicates the barman as he approaches us and I feel my pulse galloping again when he buys me a drink. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it in a film, but I’m pretty sure an artist meeting a model at an art class and hitting it off is a meet-cute.
‘Thank you.’ I take my fruit cider and follow him to the group that has gathered from the class. Darryl is mid-tale (or mid-tail) about one of his dog-sitting charges whose owners packed his ‘girlfriend’ for his overnight stay, which turned out to be a threadbare throw cushion.
‘We disinfected everything that cushion touched.’ Tana shudders, but she’s laughing with everyone else. ‘He was a lovely dog, but very… friendly.’
‘Took a shine to the laundry basket, didn’t he?’ Darryl’s full-on grin is in place.
‘He did. Had to disinfect that too.’ Tana shakes her head. ‘And the footstool my gran gave me when she downsized.’
‘And what about my Man U shirt?’ Darryl looks distraught, as though he might cry. ‘I had to throw it away.’
Ally leans in, his breath warm on my cheek as he whispers so only I can hear. ‘Is it me or is it really weird that these people are talking about things a dog has fucked in their house?’
I press my lips together to stop from laughing, but I can’t help a giggle spluttering out when I catch his eye. I nod. It is weird. Maybe it isn’t so bad that Darryl is spoken for. Maybe I dodged a bullet with that one.
‘I have to get going now.’ Darryl is partway through a story about a particularly bad bout of doggy diarrhoea when Ally leans in again.
‘But maybe we could meet up for a coffee?’ He holds out a card with his details on it: Alejandro Torres, chartered management accountant.
So he does more than get his kit off. I have no idea what, because ‘chartered management accountant’ means little to me, but maybe I could find out.
It’s unusual to see a man’s penis before a date, but he’s cute and he’s certainly not lacking in the downstairs department, so why not?
‘I’d like that.’ I take the card, feeling giddy as I slip it into my bag, zipping it into the little pocket inside, because there’s no way I’m misplacing this one.
Maybe paying for the class wasn’t money down the drain after all.
I’ve rediscovered my passion for art and bagged myself a date.
Ally takes my hand, stooping to kiss it again, and I’m breathless as I watch him stride from the pub. Did that really just happen?
‘And I was barefoot when I stood in it.’ Darryl grimaces, and it’s at that moment I decide enough is enough. I make my excuses and promise to see them all next week before I bow out.