Page 79 of Tilly in Technicolor
I blink for the first time probably in two hours.
“I’m sorry to pull you out,” Ollie says, “but we better start heading back for dinner.”
I rub my eyes and blink some more. I have about fifty-eight tabs open, six different Word docs, and twelve confirmation emails of jobs and open calls I’ve submitted to.
Sometimes the resurfacing from hyperfocus is gentle, gradual. Other times it’s jarring and disorienting, like you’re waking up in a new world. This definitely feels like the latter.
“Alright?” Ollie asks, continuing to rub my back.
I grin at him. “Out of it,” I say, stretching my arms overhead and arching my back into his touch.
Ollie nods in understanding, smiling back.
I glance at my laptop screen and groan.
“What’s wrong?”
“Well,” I say, total and utter humiliation boiling up in me, “There’s like, eight typos on my résumé I just sent out to a billion jobs.”
Oliver turns my laptop, and the gasp he lets out belongs on a soap opera, I shit you not. Which doesn’t help things.
Except, well, it’s Ollie, so I can’t help laughing. And then I laugh harder. Ollie looks at me, horror-stricken. Then he starts to laugh, too. We’re both laughing so hard our table starts to shake. Oliver drops his forehead to mine as we try to catch our breaths.
“Well… I wish I could say spelling shouldn’t be a prerequisite for any of the jobs… but I do imagine it plays a bit of a role.”
I snort again. “Whatever. At least I tried.”
He kisses my forehead, then pulls away, packing up his things. “Honestly, Tilly, I imagine you’ll still get responses. Editors exist for a reason, and people can overlook some typos for talent.”
Something sharp and self-deprecating sits on the tip of my tongue, but I decide to swallow it down. I choose to bask in his confidence. His faith in me. I absorb it. Make it my own.
I pack up my own stuff and we head out the door, Ollie grabbing my hand and holding it as we walk.
A block away from the hotel I stop, tugging his arm so he’s facing me.
“Thank you,” I say.
“For what?”
“For believing in me.”
Oliver shakes his head then smiles, leaning down to give me a soft kiss. “It’d be impossible not to.”
Chapter 33She’s a Rainbow
OLIVER
It turns out, heaven does exist on Earth, and it’s stationed in an interactive pop-up museum about color in the heart of Barcelona.
Tilly reaches over, putting her fingers under my chin and closing my jaw from where it’s dragging on the ground. But I can’t believe it. An entire museum—five whole exhibits—dedicated to the history of color, pigments, and their applications.
This is about to be the best day of my life.
Tilly had started our free Saturday by hovering over my sleeping form until I woke up with a minor heart attack from her wild-eyed stare. She then dragged me out of bed, threw a bundle of clothes my way, shoved a stale biscuit in my mouth, and pulled me out the door, saying she wanted us to be first in line for a big surprise.
I’ve never been so surprised in my life.
“Come on,” she says, grabbing my arm and marching us to the entrance.
