Page 8 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

“This brat does your shit because you’re too old and—”

“Why, you little —” Beep.

“Nat’s here! Bye!”

*-*-*-*

I stare at my best friend and groan.

“When you said you were going to take me to some fancy shindig, I didn’t realize it’s an art gallery,” I grumble.

I look down at myself and try to straighten my black dress. It’s a simple dress that hugs my curves just right. There’s nothing wrong with the dress, I look fucking fantastic. But I would have looked drop-dead gorgeous if I had more time to fix myself and plan my outfit and make-up.

Thanks for wasting my time, James.

“I thought you love art,” Nat chirps, looping her arm with mine.

“I do,” I nod as we stand before a random canvas. “I just wish you had told me where we were going so I can mentally prepare myself!”

“Nerd,” She teases, pulling me to another display. “Besides, Oscar is here.”

I roll my eyes and smirk, “Oh, that’s why we’re here.”

She hushes me, her eyes skimming through the crowd, looking for him. I chuckle, knowing she’s been in love with the man since she reached puberty.

Despite the ten-year age gap, her heart has been set on Oscar for years.

My eyes caught on another canvas, and I couldn’t help but admire the work. I want it. Who do I need to talk to to get this canvas sent to my place, like now?

“Who’s the artist this week?” I ask Nat, leaning forward to study the strokes and swirls of an abstract painting.

“He’s new, and he works with Oscar. His name is Rurik Campbell.”

“Aww, how cute,” I murmur, “this is his debut, I guess?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Nat shrugs as she continues looking around. “Oh, by the window! There’s Oscar!”

I tear my gaze from the painting to focus on where Nat is pointing at. Sure enough, Oscar is standing next to someone in the corner in front of a window with a glass of wine in his hand, laughing at something the person was saying.

“Oscar!” Nat calls out.

Oscar and his friend look in our direction. I smirk at Oscar before letting my attention drift to his friend.

Oh.

Hello, stranger…

I swear my heart leaps out of my chest. While everyone, including me, is dressed in fancy outfits and fine clothing, his friend is casually dressed in black jeans, white sneakers, and a white fitted button-down shirt that shows off his broad shoulders. I bet if I run my hand down his chest, I can feel how hard those muscular pecs are.

Wait — What the fuck, girl? Calm down.

His friend glances at me with a curious expression on his handsome face. His gaze shifts to Nat and then back at me, his brows furrowing as we approach them. When we finally stand before them, I can't help but notice the sunlight shining through the window, hitting him perfectly and making him look radiant and beautiful.

He looks so fucking angelic.

“Hey, you,” Nat says, hugging Oscar.

I hug him after, trying to focus on him instead of his friend.

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