Page 29 of Dare to Fall

There was an email draft sitting in my unsent mailbox that I still hadn’t gotten the nerve to send. It was on my to-do list for this week, and if I didn’t get to it soon, there would be no chance in hell I would make the deadline in time to submit my work to Studio 628’s guest installment for their winter season.

The screen on my phone sprung to life, and my eyes immediately narrowed into slits at the brightness. There were three unread texts from Lucas and two more from an unknown number. Sliding my thumb against the screen, I opened the texts from the unknown source.

Unknown:Hey, hottie! It’s Megan. Hope you made it home okay. Don’t forget to call me this weekend for our date.

“Ugh,” I groaned.

A hazy memory flickered in my mind of Lucas and me downing an embarrassing number of bourbons at the bar while I drunkenly watched after Eva in her booth with the douchebag. When a beautiful distraction walked up to us and I caught Eva looking at the woman with a hint of jealousy on her face, the liquor took over and I wanted nothing more than to fuel her envy. It was petty and utterly stupid, but then again, I had been nothing but stupid since the day I laid eyes on Eva.

I needed to get a grip. She clearly wasn’t available, and honestly, neither was I. There was so much shit going on in my head about my future and the expectations put on me by my family. I didn’t have the time to make stupid mistakes like this—not when I was working to make a name for myself in the world of the elite.

The first step was to stop giving my number out to women I could hardly remember. Edges of my memory were pretty blurry when it came to this woman. Despite her short, strawberry-blonde hair and freckled skin, I could hardly remember the detailed features of her. I felt like an ass for giving her any sort of hope that a date would be in our future. I made a mental note to never drink that much bourbon again and to stay far away from Eva Barnes.

Just as I tried to push thoughts of her out of my mind, my phone rang, breaking the blissful silence of my loft. Rubbing a palm to my aching forehead, I squinted at the screen. It was Vanessa, the coordinator for the university’s art exhibit.

“Shit,” I muttered to myself.

I pushed myself up against the headboard, trying to get my bearings through the pulsing pain in my head. Taking a deep breath in, I let it out in a sigh and answered the phone.

“Good morning, Vanessa.” My voice came out more haggard than I intended.

A soft giggle landed against my ear. “Goodness, Garth, have you not had your morning coffee yet?” she asked.

“Not nearly enough.” My eyes darted across the loft to the espresso machine that was painfully far away at the moment.

“Well, I’m sorry to bother you. I was hoping to run through the logistics of the exhibit if you have a few moments.”

“Sure. Now is good.” I took in another deep breath and forced myself out of bed. If I was going to survive the day, I needed to get some caffeine in me. One hand held the phone close to my ear, and the other rubbed at my temple as I padded into the kitchen.

“So, the installations will start the Tuesday before the exhibit. Based on what pieces you told me you were working on, I think it would be good to have yours in by then too,” she said.

“Okay, that should work fine. Do you have a timeframe of when you would like them to be dropped off?” I asked. The espresso machine hummed to life as I turned it on.

“The installation crew will be on campus from nine to three on Tuesday, so we want to make sure they have enough time to get yours up.” She paused to think. “I’d say have them here by eleven. That should be plenty of time. Most of the students are bringing their pieces in the night before, so a majority of the pieces should already be installed by noon.”

“Eleven works well. I might even be able to drop them off sooner, but definitely by eleven.”

“Great!” The rise in her tone sent a piercing dagger through my aching head. I pulled the phone a few inches away from my ear. “I just wanted to say again how much we appreciate you showcasing your work at the university. So many of our students look up to you and how successful you’ve become at such a young age.”

A smile tugged at my lips at her compliment. I remembered how influential it was for established artists to participate in the exhibits at Parsons. Budding artists blossomed during those exhibits, including myself. Building a community was one of the key elements that forced me to grow as an artist.

“Thank you for saying that, Vanessa. I’m just happy to show my work and be able to meet the new generation. I think it will be a great night for all of us.”

“Yes! I think it will be,” she said with glee. “Oh! I almost forgot. We were hoping that you might say a few words in the beginning. You know, just to get everything started and to ease the tension of the students. Would you mind?”

My stomach did a little flip at her request. I’d never been one for public speaking. All throughout art school, I avoided any opportunity to speak to a large group of people. I much preferred to have conversations one on one, or at least within a smaller group. But I knew this night was important for their program, so I would have to manage.

“Sure, I can say a few words. Just don’t expect some expertly crafted speech,” I teased.

“Perfect! Thank you so much, Garth. We really appreciate you taking the time to do this. And don’t forget to have the pieces to us by Tuesday at eleven.”

“No problem at all. I look forward to it.”

I pressed the red button to end the call. Just as I grabbed the jar of espresso beans from the cabinet, my phone rang again.

“Jesus Christ. Can’t everyone just let me get some caffeine in my system?” Cursing, I grabbed my phone again and exhaled a long sigh as I saw my mother’s face pop up on the screen.

“Hello, Mother,” I said, spooning some beans into the grinder.

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