Very smooth, Dylan. Very cool. Definitely not staring at how that robe is tied just loose enough to be interesting.
He disappears around a corner.
Silence.
Alex turns to me slowly. That grin. The one that means she’s won. Like she’s just pulled off the greatest surprise in the history of surprises.
“That’s him,” she whispers. Barely containing her glee. “That’s who we’re drawing.”
I look at the studio door.
At Alex.
At where Hot Guy just disappeared.
I look at Alex’s face. That pure joy. That certainty that this will be fun because we’re together. Marcus threatened us. Dom’strying to control us. We’re investigating murders. And she wants this ridiculous, embarrassing, perfect thing.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I’m in. But only because I love you.”
“That’s the only reason that matters.” She squeals. Actually squeals like we’re sixteen and someone just asked us to prom. Grabs my hand and drags me toward the door.
“This is going to be amazing!”
“This is going to be a disaster.”
“Same thing!” She pushes open the door. The smell of paint and turpentine hits us. “Now come on. Let’s go draw a naked man.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“You can’t believe you’re doing this for free.” She winks. “Technically we’re paying for the privilege.”
“That makes it worse!”
“That makes it hilarious!”
And she pulls me inside.
The door closes behind us.
And I’m committed now. No turning back.
Just me, my best friend, rosé Moscato, and a naked stranger I’m about to draw very badly.
Life is so fucking weird sometimes.
But at least we’re doing it together.
Eleven
This is absurd.
But it’s also exactly what we needed. After a week of serial killers and supernatural warnings and almost losing each other, we need ridiculous. Non-life-threatening discomfort. A reason to laugh that isn’t hysteria.
I can’t decide if I’d rather be at family dinner right now—enduring Yiayia’s interrogation via zoom about why I’m not married yet—or chugging the entire bottle of rosé Moscato sitting beside my easel.
