Page 116 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

“I’m Jamie,” Cute Stranger, aka Jamie, holds his hand out.

“Briar,” I shake his hand, slightly stunned that this man is still talking to me.

Look at this man as being friendly and gentlemanly.

Fuck, is this how Rurik should have been treating me this whole time? Why the fuck have I been letting his behavior slide to the point I’ve normalized his asshole ways when there are men like Jamie who are out there?

Jamie’s not your angel.

“Want to dance?” I blurt out, silencing my mind.

Jamie looks taken aback for a second before his face splits into a grin. “I was hoping one of us would ask.”

When Nat spots me and Jamie on the dance floor, her face lights up even more. She nudges Oscar and nods toward us, who looks in our direction with a surprised laugh.

“I apologize in advance if I step on your toes!” Jamie yells over the music.

“Don’t worry,” I yell back as he grabs my arms. “I’ll probably do the same anyway!”

So, I definitely won’t do the same. I know how to dance, thank you very much.

But Jamie seems to be having the time of his life dancing with me, and even though he moves like one of those flailing inflatable air figures you see outside of buildings advertising their place, he’s still kind of cute.

After five more songs, we need a quick break.

Jamie walks with me to the buffet and pours a glass of water for me.

“You’re gorgeous,” Jamie says, almost shyly.

“Aww,” I grin, playfully touching his arm. “Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.”

Jamie laughs, taking a sip of his drink. “So, I was wondering… If it’s not too forward to ask. Would you be interested in grabbing coffee tomorrow morning? Or even the next day if you’re too hungover tomorrow.” He quickly adds with a chuckle.

I grin back. But a part of me felt… sad.

Jamie has been giving me the type of attention I’ve always wanted from someone. He’s kind, sweet, adorable, and respectful. He’s the type of man I’ve always thought I wanted in a man. I just wanted that man to be Rurik.

I clear my throat and nod, “Give me your phone. I’ll text myself so you can save my number, and I can have yours.”

He eagerly pulls his phone out and hands it over. I give it back to him as soon as I finish, our fingers brushing at the exchange.

Nothing.

I feel… nothing.

No excitement, no anger, no ecstasy, no anything.

Still, I continue grinning at him as he starts naming places we could check out together. Apparently, he's a regular at Oscar’s gallery, and they’ve become friends. He doesn’t know Nat well, but he’s close to Oscar.

As I explain to him how I’m friends with them, my gaze casually wanders to the corner where a particular artist is painting another canvas.

But instead of focusing on the happy couple, he’s openly staring at me.

What the fuck is he staring at?

I raise a brow, and he shakes his head once. Glaring between me and Jamie, his glare deepening.

My eyes narrow at him as I mouth, “Fuck you, Rurik.”

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