“Thank you, White Rabbit, I gathered that.”
When they get there, the street is full of parked cars, and he has to find a spot that’s about a block away. They arrive late, like shepredicted. Miles finally gets to the gallery, and the gallery owner—a middle-aged art collector named Mrs. Goldyn—is introducing the gallery artists who are part of the exhibit. The theme isNew Beginnings,and Miles had cranked out several new pieces for this event before heading back to Ridgeford. His work’s on one side of the gallery and his manager, Andy, is in the crowd glaring at him.
“Sorry,” Miles mouths at Andy sheepishly.
He stands by the front, next to the other artists who are being introduced. Some of his university friends are in the crowd, waving at him. Miles waves back at them, thankful that they’re here for him. He also makes it a point to be present when they have events, though he’s missed the last few ones since he’s been back to Ridgeford.
Mrs. Goldyn introduces the artists one-by-one, giving brief introductions about their art styles. Miles blushes when it’s his turn, and she gives a spiel about his art that makes him feel both a burst of pride and also what feels a lot like impostor syndrome.
After the opening remarks and the crowd disperses to look at the different works, Andy approaches him with a frown.
“Sorry for being late,” Miles says, before he’s able to talk first.
He sighs. “How are things going at your inn?”
“Not the best.” He can’t lie, not to Andy.
“It will work out. Get some food and mingle.”
There are many collectors in the gallery, some of which Miles has met a few times before. Familiar faces walk up to him and chat, asking how he’s doing, and he’s even able to sneak in mentions of his family inn while he’s at it—they should visit if they’re in Ridgeford, Miles suggests. Most of them have never thought of Ridgeford as adestination.
“Camilla hasjustopened a new establishment there,” a patron says eagerly. “My husband purchased a lot of shares. I hope it goes well.”
Miles resists the urge to show his distaste.
He sneaks away to a quiet corner a few times to check out posts from the band. As usual, Calvin hasn’t posted a single thing, but his bandmates have. Theo has posted a grainy-filtered photo of the stage while it was empty, and Chase posted a picture of him, Gil, and Calvin in what seems to be the inside of a tour bus. The top buttons of Calvin’s loose black shirt are undone, and Miles can see the tattooed flowers and vines that reach up to his collarbone. Calvin’s running a hand through his hair and is grinning at something off-camera, his dimples visible.
Miles’s face heats up, and he mentally groans. There really is something about Calvin that does it for him.
Or maybe he really, really needs to get laid.
He should hook up with someone to get whatever this is out of his system. While Miles hasn’t been interested in dating for years, he does have the occasional fling and one-night stand. He has a few friends he meets up with for casual hook-ups, and like him, they only want sex without the complicated feelings. That’s always been easier for Miles.
Maybe he can see if any of them are free tonight. Maybe that would help him stop ogling at a certain very hot guitarist who he’ll never have a chance with.
“Has Calvin replied?” Gabby whispers when she catches him in acorner. “I checked out the line-up, and they’re not performing until around ten tonight. You’ve got more than enough time to come.”
Ten—the exhibit’s going to be done, so she’s right.
“Nope.” Miles pretends it doesn’t sting. “As if he’d reply, he’s in the middle of a festival.”
Gabby flicks his forehead. “Look at you all grouchy.”
Glaring at her, Miles excuses himself. He’s been getting messages all night from friends and past professors who are giving him well-wishes. His social media’s buzzing with notifications as well, and he finds out that one of the gallery assistants—who shares his log-in details—posted some stories of the exhibit. He’s scrolling through the various notifications to make sure he hasn’t missed anything important when he spots it.
A reply from Calvin.
Cat-vin: What ticket does Gabby have?
Miles texts back immediately.
Me: general admission!
Oh, god. He needs water. Call him dramatic, but Calvin seems to have that effect on him. Miles retreats to a quiet corner and opens Calvin’s next message. There’s an attached file to it for two e-tickets to the festival.VIPtickets.
Me: THANK YOU!!!!!!!
Cat-vin: Thought you had an exhibit?
