“Thank you. Seriously. I owe you.”
“No problem, but I’ll remember that.” He grins at me.
“This way.” I nod for him to follow me. “There’s a small lunchroom back here.”
Joss was already in the room, bent over at the table with her head down like she might nap, an energy drink in her hand.
“Dinner!” I say happily, hoping it’ll cheer her.
“These exhibit schedules are relentless, and I really wish they’d give us more people if they’re going to keep doing this,” she grumbles to the table.
“Agreed. But not much we can do but barrel through now.”
“Can I help?” Ben asks as he unpacks the food.
“No, you’ve got homework and studying to do.” I shake my head. “It’s bad enough you came here to give us food. You don’t need the distraction.”
“Okay.” He rolls his eyes at me. “Joss, is there something I can do?”
“Lots of things, but I don’t want to get in trouble with Violet.”
I sigh. “We’ll discuss it when Joss and I are less hangry.”
* * *
After dinner—whichis actually really good even though it’s in a lukewarm state—and a couple of cookies, I feel like I can focus again. I stretch my limbs to try and get ready to mount the artwork. Joss has gone to get some more supplies, and Ben and I clean up the lunchroom.
“Let me help? I’ve got the homework done. I spent the time between classes in the library today, so I was just going to do some extra studying.”
“You helped enough by bringing us food. Seriously. Thank you again. I could kiss you for it.” I forget that I’m talking to Ben and not Joss, and I nearly choke on the last bite of cookie when I realize it. I grimace and close my eyes, waiting for a smart-ass remark on his part, but his back is to me, and he doesn’t say anything for a minute.
“I’m already here, and I’ve got the time. Sounds like Joss thought I could be helpful.”
“I guess there’s a few things you could help with. For like an hour—but then you go home, okay? It’s my fault for waiting too long on this and I already feel awful that Joss is stuck here with me.”
“The faster we get it done, the sooner she gets to go home, right?”
“Don’t make good points that contradict my feelings.” I poke him gently in the ribs as we walk back out to the gallery space, and he laughs.
“How good are you with a drill?” I ask as we get back to the mess that will eventually be an exhibit.
“Not the best. But I can learn.”
“No time for that tonight. But you can hold the cleats and make sure they’re level and I’ll drill them. We have to finish this whole wall and then that one, and then install the artwork on the cleats.”
I show him the install process on one that’s already done, and we do a practice one before we really get into a rhythm. And he and Joss are right, it goes much faster when you’ve got help. Not that I want to let them know they were right.
We’re on the last one, but we’re struggling to get the cleat in place because the canvas is larger than the others.
“Here, can you hold it by yourself? Is it too heavy?” I ask, and he makes a face at me like I’m stupid. Because right, he’s an athlete and probably benches a bajillion pounds every day. “Sorry dumb question. I’m just going to slide under here and see if I can guide it on a little bit.”
I slide between him, the artwork he’s holding and the wall, reaching my hand as far as I can when I see that it’s not quite clicking into place. I turn to look at him, and realize the position we’re in. Me pressed up against the wall, him only inches from me. I can feel his breath on my neck and mine catches in my throat.
“Thoughts you want to share?” He smirks at me.
Fuck.
“Yeah, put it a little to your left.” Which is just fantastic because that doesn’t sound dirty at all.
