CHAPTER ELEVEN
WALKER
“This is a bad idea,” Flynn says next to me, reaching for my arm and pulling me towards her before either of us can get too close to the gallery doors. “We should go home. Why did I let you talk me into this? What were you thinking?”
“Me? You’re the one that asked me to come.”
“Yeah, because Devon asked when I saw her at The Roast House, and I talked a big game about knowing all about art because I spend so much time with you, and I got flustered. This wouldn’t have happened if you were with me! You would have told me to shut the fuck up.” Her eyes go wide with panic, and her usually pale skin flushes with frustration. “This is your fault!”
“My bad,” I say, holding my hand to my chest mockingly. “I’m sorry I didn’t glue myself to your side to prevent this from happening.”
Her eyes narrow, and I realize the panic isn’t going to go away with a joke. She’s worked herself up so bad she’s actually freaking out. “Flynn, take a deep breath,” I tell her, resting my hands on her triceps while taking a slow breath in. She stares at me for a second before following, her muscles slowly loosening. “If you want to turn around and go home, we can. I’ll tell Devon that you aren’t feeling well, but you can do this.”
“I know nothing about art! I absolutely cannot do this!”
“You don’t need to know anything,” I tell her. I grew up surrounded by art, practically living in a gallery some days thanks to my mom, but that doesn’t mean I know a damn thing. “There is no reason to overcomplicate this by pretending you’re something you’re not. Just be honest with Devon.”
“And say I lied to her? No, thank you.”
“You got nervous. She’ll understand.”
“I still lied! I’m trying to get this girl to like me, and I’m not exactly off to a great start.”
A sigh falls from my lips, unsure of what else I can say to cool the fire burning brightly through her body. She’s blowing everything out of proportion. I know it’s just her nerves talking, but I don’t know how to help her get out of her own head. I can’t even get out of my own. Even now, a few days later, Sonya is pressed into every thought.
“Flynn, she already likes you.”
“Then I want her to want to date me!” Her hand comes down on my chest, her eyes even wider than before as her fingers curl into the fabric of my jacket. “Help me! You’re my expert. I need smart things to say.”
“You don’t need to pretend to have some deep knowledge about technique or guess what you think the artist is trying to get across. That will just lead to you getting caught up in your own web. Just talk about how the piece makes you feel,” I tell her, trying to make it as simple as can be.
“It can't be that easy.”
“You don’t need to know anything about art to feel emotion from a piece, Flynn. Just be honest about how it makes you feel, and you’re golden. I promise.”
Exhaling, she leans her head back. “Okay,” she says, reaching for my arm. “I feel better.”
“I’m going to be right here the whole time. If you need me to bail you out, just squeeze my hand,” I say, sliding my hand down into hers.
“Are you sure you’ll be at my side the whole night?” she asks, nodding to the right of us. I turn my head and spot Sonya making her way in with Bekah and Reid on either side of her. The smile resting on her lips makes me smile, and for a second, I wish we could go back to before. It’d make seeing her right now a lot less complicated.
“What happened?” Flynn asks, reading my face before I can conceal the emotion playing out in my eyes. Sonya hasn’t gone anywhere, but somehow, I miss her so bad my bones ache.
“Nothing.”
“Nope, not this time. Try again.”
“You can’t just say try again,” I argue, trying to buy myself more time. I didn’t tell her about the kiss because I knew she would make me analyze why I did it, and I’m not ready to.
“I can, and I did.”
“Flynn, I really…” I say with a sigh, running my fingers through my hair. “I just don’t want to talk about it. Is that okay? Can you let me have this one?”
Her expression softens, nodding her head. “Do you want to bail? It’s okay if you’re not ready to be around her yet.”
“No, let’s go inside and get you the girl,” I say, moving my now untangled hand over her back. “At least one of us should be getting laid.”
“You know…it could be both of us if you just changed your mind,” she says, poking me gently in the side as we head for the entrance.
“Ha.”
“I’m just saying,” she says, but it doesn’t matter because the second we walk inside, all I see is Sonya.
I can’t hear Flynn next to me or the soft jazz that plays over the speakers, filtering through the open space. I can’t even focus on the white gallery walls, brightened by the beautiful explosion of colors from the hanging art pieces. I don’t see any of it because even in a tight black dress, Sonya is the brightest thing here as her arms wrap around Everett’s neck.
I stand there, in the entrance, drinking her in from head to toe, from the mess of curls hanging around her shoulders to the long-sleeve mini dress that hugs her curves.
“Oh, you have it bad,” Flynn says, grabbing my arm when someone comes in behind us and tugging me towards her. Before I can think too hard about what she said, our attention is pulled to the other side of the room by the whole reason we’re here.
“Flynn! I’m so glad you came,” Devon greets her, wrapping her arms around my best friend tightly. For whatever reason, Flynn can’t see it, but I do. It’s clear as day on Devon’s pixie-like features, the absolute delight she has just by seeing Flynn. “And you brought Walker!”
“My favorite barista,” I say with a smile.
“I’m glad you both could come. Wren’s work is just over here.” She points towards the only section not taking up the walls.
Instead, five clean white podiums are scattered across the gallery floor at varying heights, each supporting a sculpture. An anatomically correct heart with wildflowers growing from the vessels, a sculpted torso with shards of glass sticking out the back, an upward palm with tree roots growing up, and the ignitor of an oversized matchstick carved into an ear. All breathtaking takes on heartbreak and hope, but it’s the one sitting in the center that stalls my heart in my chest.
Displayed on the tallest podium, I take in the bottom half of a head sculpted from clay and the wired chaos above it clawing its way out of the empty skull.
A visual representation of an overthinking mind in its most chaotic form.
“This is incredible,” I say, pointing to it without realizing I’ve drifted from Flynn’s side.
“Isn’t it? Wren’s so insanely talented,” Devon says, directing my attention to the dark-haired girl standing in the corner having a deep conversation with a blonde woman. She’s nodding along to everything she says, but when she turns her head, I can see the faraway look on her face, like she’s begging to be saved.
Devon must clock it, too, because she shoots me a small smile as she moves around me. “I’ll be right back,” she says, her eyes lingering on Flynn before going to rescue her friend.
“By my side all night, my ass,” Flynn says, letting out a breath when it’s just the two of us. “This is already going so bad. She’s going to hate me. I’ve never reacted to art that way. You were so insanely taken with it, Walker. That’s not me.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself. She already likes you, Flynn. She basically lit up when she saw you were here. That’s not a reaction someone gives if there isn’t something there.”
She hums and dips her chin to the left. “Incoming.”
I turn my head in time to see Sonya on her way over, a little skip in her step. “Hey, you two! I didn’t know you were coming to this,” she says, sliding into my side. My arm comes around her, and instantly, the thin layer of anxiety that’s been sitting over my skin for the last forty-eight hours lifts. “How are you, Flynn?”
“Freaking out,” Flynn answers, staring at the piece that took me away from her.
Sonya lifts her head from my arm to look at me. “Do I ask?”
“Better if you don’t,” I say with a small laugh. “I didn’t know Everett was in this.”
“It was a last-minute switch in,” she says before looking at the sculpture that had won me over. “This is beautiful,” she says, taking a step towards it. “Who’s the artist?”
“Wren Abbott,” Wren answers her question, extending her hand out to Sonya.
Most people would miss it, but I don’t. I can’t. I’m so acutely attuned to Sonya that I see the slight tension in her shoulders at the name. “Your work is beautiful,” she says, a tight smile on her lips.
“It’s probably killing you to be over here, isn’t it?” Wren asks with a small laugh, her eyes moving from Sonya to the heavy glare from across the room belonging to Everett.
It’s then I realize that this Wren, must be the Wren. The one I’ve only heard about in passing and from Everett’s mouth. He’s not a very vocal guy. He usually holds his cards close to his chest, but his distaste for Wren is the only thing I’ve ever seen bring him to life. I’ve never seen someone so visibly shaken by their hatred for another person.
Sonya shakes her head. “Everett will get over it.”
Wren lets out another laugh, this one a little richer, and her vibrant green eyes shimmer with amusement. “Yeah, I’m sure he will. Let him know not everyone thinks I’m the worst human to exist. Some may even say I’m an angel.”
I bite down on my tongue to keep myself from laughing, but Flynn fails and brings her hand up to try and hide it. “He’s never—” Sonya starts.
“You don’t need to try and protect my feelings,” Wren says, her smile sugarcoating the venom in her tone. “He doesn’t like me, and that’s fine. I don’t need him to.”
“Right…” Sonya trails off, the hand on my back sliding down until she pressed tightly to my side. I can tell Wren’s bluntness is making her uncomfortable. It’s surprising just how much considering who her friends are and how honest they can be, but I guess it leaves a film of sorts on her mind when it comes to new people. It’s not as easy to swallow.
Scanning the room for something to change the subject, I spot the bar in the corner and slide my hand down her spine. The open back of her dress allows my skin to meet hers, and with it, I feel the goosebumps rise on her skin. “I could use a drink,” I say. “Sunny?”
“Yes, please.” Her hand slides down until her fingertips are dipping into the back pocket of my black jeans. I try not to flinch at the sudden touch. She’s always been a touchy kind of person, but she’s never been this bold with where she puts her hands.
“Flynn? Devon? Can we get you anything?” I extend the offer to them first, but when they both turn me down, it shifts to Wren. “Wren?”
“I’m okay. Thank you,” she says, waving me off and allowing me to guide Sonya along.
The second we’re far enough away, Sonya all but melts into my chest. “Thank you,” she says, turning to face me. “I didn’t know what to say. She’s so blunt.”
“Remind you of anyone?” I let out a small laugh.
A giggle slips past her lips, so bright and full of life that I feel it in every corner of my body. “She’s the female version of Everett. I wonder if he even realizes it.”
“I’m going to go out on a limb and say no,” I tell her, turning towards the bar. “What did you want?”
She waves me off. “I’m DD tonight. We’re going out to On The Bench after this to celebrate Evy and Dylan’s game. You should come.”
“You sure? I don’t want to crash.”
“Yes! Come,” she says with a smile. “At the very least, you can buy Flynn some extra time with Devon. That is the Devon, right?”
I nod my head. “How’d you know?”
“She’s lit up the same way she was the last time I was at your place, and she mentioned her. They’re cute together!”
“They are.”
“Is that a yes, then? I wouldn’t mind getting to hang out with you.”
“I’ll toss it out to them, see what they think,” I tell her before looking across the room to where her friends are. “Want to show me Everett’s work?”
She smiles, slipping her hand into mine. “Absolutely.”