Page 145 of The Sleep With Your Enemy's Sister Situation

The wordeverythingwas just that.

Everything.

A reminder that it wasn’t all that long ago I was busy rushing around an office, running up and down hallways, riding elevators, popping breath mints to chase away coffee breath, running scripts in my head to close a deal.

I was a different person then.

Then.

That made me smile.

Smile so much that I dipped my paintbrush into a light brown paint and wrote the wordTHEN.

A very sloppy cursive kind of writing, which was good.

The rest of the canvas stared back at me. White. Untouched.

Waiting.

I finally had the freedom to paint.

To just sit. Think. Paint.

I loved making my hair messy.

I loved wearing whatever clothing I could find.

Today?

One of Riff’s t-shirts.

There was absolutely nothingromanticabout it all.

I woke up in Riff’s bed and had the urge to paint.

I got out of bed and could not find my clothes within the first five seconds.

But I did find one of Riff’s t-shirts.

It was big, comfortable, and I didn’t mind the smell.

I was human after all.

The smell of a man.

Wearing his t-shirt.

It felt good.

I was taking full advantage of the moment handed to me.

I knew I could not sit around Riff’s condo and paint forever.

But for now?

It worked. It felt good.

I enjoyed it.

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