Page 3 of Tricking an Introvert

Tessa

Tessa beamed as she sold another one of her exclusive prints for five bucks.

She liked to draw something she'd never shown anywhere just before the con, to make it special for people who knew her work, as well as those who'd never heard of her before.

She had all the fancy print equipment set up at home, and she bought the elegant white frames in bulk, so the entire thing cost her a dollar, and made her a crazy amount of profit. Most people went for a five-by-eight print for a fiver, but she also sold the occasional bigger ones, and even some of her original paintings for a hundred bucks.

Within the first hour, the con had paid for all of her travel expenses. Regardless, she wasn't here to make money. She was here because this place was a balm for her often easily wounded artist’s soul. She loved most of her clients, even if their critiques, demands, and inconsistencies were tiring. One moment they wanted a dark-haired dude with horns standing on top of a cliff, and at the next draft, they asked for him to be seated on a throne instead. As she drew everything from scratch, it took a considerable amount of time and effort to change things; unfortunately, her clients weren’t interested in the process, only the results.

Here at the con, everyone just ooohed and aaahed and went away. It made her little heart flutter for weeks.

"It's so beautiful. You're so talented. I could never draw like that!"

Whenever she heard that type of praise, Tessa smiled, and tried not to roll her eyes. No one was born talented. Everyone started with stick figures. She was good at what she did because of practice, perseverance, and hard work.

Still, the shower of compliments worked all the same. It was her annual ego boost.

"Jesus! You said you were an illustrator, not a goddamn genius."

Tessa grinned, looking up to find Cole, mouth open, staring at her banner.

Maybe she hadn't dreamed last night after all.

"Gee, I wish someone had told me I was a genius. I could have skipped all the classes, student loans, and hundreds of hours working on perfecting hands."

Where had that come from? She honestly never said it out loud.

He laughed. "Touché. But some people spend hundreds of hours, take all of the classes, and never create anything as breathtaking as this. It's beautiful, Tessa."

She could feel her entire face heat up. Damn her Irish ancestors for cursing her with skin that felt it necessary to show every range of emotion by turning beet red.

"Thanks. How's the con so far for you?"

He held a hand up. "Hold that thought one second."

And without another word, he walked away, striding at a great pace.

Tessa shook her head in surprise before smiling at the next person who came to look at her picture.

"I love your art," said Perky Titties from the bar. The woman was now wearing a long white jumpsuit that only served to make her look trendier and more intimidating. "How do you get your ideas?"

"By watching you." That sounded weird, didn't it? "You, and everyone else I come across. I sit at cafés, study people as they walk by, and when someone stands out, I make up a story in my head. I guess writers do the same thing. Instead of writing words, I draw it. I ended up sketching you last night."

She hadn't been able to sleep for hours; the bed at the hotel was wonderful, perfectly comfortable, and she absolutely needed to ask reception where they got their pillows, but it wasn't hers, and therefore, she'd counted sheep until two in the morning.

She just wasn't accustomed to spending time away from home.

"Really? You're joking."

Tessa pulled her tablet out. "No, I saw you—and a dozen other people—at the bar, and you were all so interesting. I couldn't help myself."

Once upon a time, she would have felt too shy to tell a woman she found her striking. Her girlfriends had cured her of that; Lucy, Cassie, Piper, Anna, and the others never stopped complimenting each other—and Tessa. Although she didn’t always believe their praise, she couldn’t deny that being told she looked pretty felt awesome.

She pulled up her series of sketches; two dozen, none of them very elaborate. Most were in black and white, but she'd added a splash of color here and there.

Perky Titties's eyes widened as she flipped between the three sketches where she appeared. Well, a version of her, one with white wings, and another one with a mermaid tail.

"Oh my God! Are you going to finish these? Could I get prints?"

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