Page 42 of Love Is an Art
“No. No. I didn’t mean that at all. I mean, the first one was …”Terrible.I flush and wave my hand. “Dalmatians Gone Wildwas all you—all your ideas and your inspiration. And there was a bidding war.”
She stares at me, her gaze soft.
And I want to kiss her. But … A baby cries out as his mom puts him in a stroller next to us.
“Mostly, I think you’ll succeed because you’re so committed,” I say. “You can’t fail when you’re that determined.”
“It turns out you’re not so bad at artistic endeavors yourself,” she says. “I think more color is good for you—not just black and white.”
I shake my head.
She pokes me. “Look at that sunset and the vibrant streaks of pink and purple, with yellow and orange burning at the bottom.”
People all around us take pictures of the sky.
“Anyway, I’d rather not talk about work,” she says. “I feel bad that you had to buy my painting.”
“I’m happy I bought it cheap and it didn’t get bid up likeDalmatians Gone Wild.”
She laughs. “That’s one way to spin it.”
We finish our bowls. Her phone beeps, and she checks it. Her brow furrows.
“What?”
“It’s nothing,” she says. “Wyatt asked me out to some event. Weird. We haven’t gone out since we broke up. And now is not the time to start.”
My take is that Wyatt wants her back. But that’s probably my mistrust stemming from what happened with Paisley.
“Do you want to play billiards?” I gesture to the billiard table behind us. The group that was playing is leaving. “I can teach you.”
“I can play.”
“Are you good?”
“Do you need to ask?” she asks with a mischievous grin.
Chapter twelve
Tessa
Ibeathim.Itwas close, but I did a behind-the-back shot and won.
He looks stunned.
Finally.Something I am good at.
“Did you want to say anything more about Stuy grads being good at trash-talking but their actions not measuring up?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No. No. I take it back.”
I pat his back.
Zeke is a good guy. In so many ways. But especially when he was encouraging me to be an artist—to pursue what he thinks is my dream, even though I’m talentless.
I definitely misjudged him, comparing him to Stuffed Shirt. Painting together was fun, and he was very protective when Wyatt was disparaging my artistic ability (even if Wyatt was right). I passed as an artist because I could create art when having fun—when I wasn’t following someone else’s instructions.
I should give up on this whole artist pretense.
