Page 18 of Paint Me Love
Me: How do you know my name?
All I get is a smiling emoji which only makes my chest feel tighter. Really, how does he know?Who is he?
Me: I don’t know yours.
Him: Do you want to?
Do I? Having this anonymous sexting friend is nice, but wouldn’t it be nicer to actually meet him? To know what he looks like, how his voice sounds, what he tastes like? My heart decides to go for a sprint just thinking about it.
Me: Yes.
Him: Tomorrow then.
I wait for him to say more, but he doesn’t. Ten minutes pass, then twenty, but I’m pretty sure he’s gone even if we haven’t agreed on a location. I try to sleep, but I just can’t, my brain too active in trying to solve this mystery of who my Mystery Guy could be.
I must have eventually fallen asleep after hours of turning and tossing in bed, because when I wake up, sun sifts into my bedroom through the half-open curtains. The first thing I do is check the time to make sure I haven’t overslept for work, and after confirming that despite not going to bed until the early morning, I still woke up when I should, I go about my morning routine.
A shower and some clothes, then I whisk together something to eat. I still can’t believe Mystery Guy knows who I am when I haven’t got the slightest idea who he might be. It’s both exciting and kind of scary. What if he is a stalker? One of the bad ones?
I’m just heading out the door when my phone notifies me I have a new email. It’s from Cassandra. My heart thumps loudly in my chest as I open it and skim through the contract. At the bottom, she’s also listed the pieces she’d like to put up in the gallery.
Wow, that was fast.
Unsurprisingly, the demon creature is among them. I’m happy Molly’s brother was okay with me borrowing it for a while, and of course, I’ve already let the gallery know that one isn’t for sale. I am more than happy to paint them a similar one though, if they insist. You can never have enough demon creatures with hearts of gold.
The other pieces she has requested include the fantasy landscape in the purple forest, the portrait of an albino girl I did by mixing up a few references, and the sunlit marina with the storm clouds that I spent two days painting last summer. After I read the contract carefully and Molly double-checks it for me, I sign it online and agree to bring the paintings to the gallery after work.
The staff are expecting me when I show up and I get directed straight to Cassandra’s office. As I make my way there nervously, I try once more to contact Mystery Guy. He hasn’t replied to any of my messages and neither has he elaborated on what he meant when he said we’ll meet today. I’m positive we haven’t met yet, or I’d know, but there is only so much left of today.
Anyhow, I can worry about this later—I’m in the middle of having my art put up for an exhibition. Mystery Guy can wait.
I stop in front of Cassandra’s office and take a deep breath before I knock. Her voice sounds excited when she lets me in.
“Good afternoon,” I say and stop dead in my tracks, because, holy shit, why is Derek Salinger hereagain? I squeeze the handles of the canvas carrier as his eyes zero in on me like I’m his bounty target. “Cassandra, Mr. Salinger.”
“Derek is fine,” he quickly jumps in, showing off something between a frown and a smile.
“Hi, Daniel.” Cassandra indicates the couch near the cute glass coffee table. “You should’ve really let me send someone to collect your works. I feel bad now that you had to carry them all the way here.”
“It’s no problem.” The carrier is a bit bulky, but since none of my paintings are framed yet, it wasn’t so bad.
“Okay then. Let’s see them in person.”
With her help, I carefully take out my works and lay them out across her floor. As she thinks out loud about frames and locations, I can’t help my gaze darting to Derek. What is he doing here? Shouldn’t he be at his office, closing another billion-dollar deal? I mean, it’s his gallery, so obviously he can visit whenever, but this seems unnecessary. Or was he this excited to see my art in person? My heart does that flip thing, but instead of settling down after that, it repeats it multiple times as our eyes meet.
There’s a shiver-inducing intensity in his gaze that feels like ghostly fingers all across my body. It sends heat straight to my core, and I don’t know what to do with myself. It’s the first time anyone has affected me the way he does.
“Shall we go frame them and put them up?” Cassandra asks, her voice somehow overcoming the inappropriate thoughts flooding my mind.
“Yes!”
With more effort than I’d like to admit, I take my eyes off Derek and follow her. We go to a smaller room down thehall, Derek trailing behind. Two men are waiting there with tools and four dark wooden frames. They aren’t too thick as not to overshadow what’s on the canvas, their engraved designs tasteful rather than opulent. It doesn’t take long to get all my paintings ready and as we carry them to the gallery and put them up on the wall, I’m overwhelmed by how real they look now just because they are framed and about to hang on a gallery wall. I’ve never thought it would make such a difference, that it would make me feel so accomplished just to be able to look up and see something I have created.
“They look even better now, don’t you think?” Cassandra comments from next to me, her arms crossed in front of her chest as a pleased smile stretches her lips. I think she can see the answer on my face even though I say nothing, a chuckle leaving her as she squeezes my shoulder and lets me have this moment for myself.
Once my heart has settled, I decide to check out what the gallery has on display, since I didn’t really get the chance during the opening. There are a few new pieces and at least a third of all the exhibits have the yellow label that says sold. Wow, that was fast. A full circle of the second floor brings me back to my mural. My paintings are leaning against it, beautiful in their new frames and awaiting their spots on the walls nearby. But that’s not what catches my eyes and sends my heart into a mad dash.
It’s Derek. He’s standing there, staring at them with his hands in loose fists at the sides of his body as tension and determination roll off him in palpable waves that crash straight into me. With his dark suit and heavy expression, he looks like a prince deciding the fate of his kingdom, mysterious and gorgeous and so out of this world. He’s so focused that he doesn’t notice me at first, only realizing he’s not alone when someone greets me as they pass by.
