Page 10 of Her Painter Bear Mate

"Fantastic, huh? Really?"

Dee's cheeks flushed red. "Oh, shut up."

Laughter bubbled up from deep within Clarissa. Her cheeks were still stained from her tears and she felt slightly embarrassed that she'd just cried in front of Dee, but sitting on a random curb with her was the most Clarissa felt like herself in a long time. It reminded her of better, easier times and a small silly part of her wished it could last forever.

SEVEN

Dee

The Old Bear was exactly as Dee remembered it from her youth, including the dinky dartboard, the dented road signs on the wall, and the table that she’d carved her initials into during a drunken night as a teen.

She swirled her glass of wine while she tried her best to listen to her old friends from primary school play catch-up on their lives. It wasn't that she didn't care, she just hadn't seen or talked to them in a long while. They were more or less strangers but she was happy for them.

“So how’s the painting going?” Jen asked. “I read you’re featured in galleries nowadays?”

Dee nodded, quickly swallowing her mouthful of wine. “Yes, business has been good.”

Good was an understatement. She did very well for herself and her paintings sold at good prices and fast. She wouldn't say that other artists would kill to be in her position, but seriously maim sounded about right.

“So do you still paint cities?” Ruth asked.

“Mostly, yes,” Dee said, trying her best to smile. She should feel passionate talking about her work but she always just felt awkward. If she was good with words and public speaking, maybe she wouldn't need her paintings to do the talking.

“You were always doodling in class,” Ruth recalled. “What about love? Anyone you haven't told us about?”

She said it like they chatted regularly and it was her duty to know everything about her friends.

“No, nobody right now,” Dee said, finishing her wine so she could have another. It was her third in a relatively short amount of time and they were a lot more stingy in the city with their alcohol. She was already under the influence, her whole body heavier and her head growing quieter with the moment.

“You know, I have a co-worker that I think you would really hit it off with. Wait, you’re still into women, right?” Jen checked, pausing mostly for courtesy. “Her name is Jill and she’s really nice. Shifter too, and recently bought her own house.”

Dee wondered when she'd reached an age that meant she needed interventions in her love life. Everyone was offering to set her up like somehow she was going to meet her fated mate over coffee.

“Thanks, but I’m not dating at the moment,” she said instead of voicing her real opinion. And even if she were, a blind date would not be in her acceptable repertoire. If she were dating, she wanted someone who didn't drain her social battery, someone who loved painting as much as she did, who could leave her alone when she needed space. She was fairly certain that Jill who worked in communication with Jen wasn't that.

While her two friends gossiped about a mutual friend, Dee went to the bar to order another drink. The world swayed more than expected and was ever so slightly blurry. Being drunk always reminded her a little of oil paintings. The fine details were lost but other things were just so much clearer. Like how very much she didn't want to be here.

The frustrating thing was that she didn't know where she would want to be.

She arrived at the bar and grabbed hold of it, instantly regretting it when it was sticky. She recoiled, bumping into someone much steadier next to her.

Dee turned, frowning when she found herself staring into Clarissa's brown eyes. Unlike the previous times she'd run into her, Dee didn't feel the same annoyance or upset. She was actually kind of glad because she'd been worrying about her rival. She even considered stopping by the craft store to check on her but that was a step too far.

"Oh. Hey," Clarissa said, her smile almost reaching her eyes.

"Hi."

Awkward silence fell between them, only highlighted by the music coming from the speakers.

"How are you feeling?" Dee asked eventually. "About, umm, you know. Last time we spoke?"

Clarissa pulled a face. "I'm okay. Mostly embarrassed that you had to see me cry like that."

"Oh, don't be embarrassed. I've seen worse. Like the time you sat on your palette and went to school with paint on your butt. Or when you slipped off that ledge and fell on your face," Dee said without thinking. "Wait, that was supposed to make you feel better, not worse."

A proper smile showed on Clarissa's face. "You're one to talk. I still remember the day you were in the store. You were eating an ice cream and looking at paint. You tripped over your own feet?—"

"And face planted and smashed my ice cream into the most expensive pad of paper," Dee continued, laughing at the memory. "I remember. I was freaking out because I couldn't pay for the damage. Your dad was so nice though, he just gave it to me for free since he couldn't sell it anymore."

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