She crosses her arms, waiting for an answer. They drop to her sides when she realizes there isn’t one coming. Kelly scoffs at me with disdain, turning on her heel. As she walks away, she shakes her head, ripping off her black latex gloves and hurling them into a nearby trash can as she returns to her clients. Thankfully, all the customers stayed safely in the back of the shop and only staff saw our little scuffle.
Thor’s arm shoots out toward the door that Jason was just escorted out of. “If you learned to communicate like a normal human being, you wouldn’t need to orchestrate a crisis just so you can play the fucking savior.”
Frankie comes skipping in the front door from her lunch break clutching an iced coffee and freezes. “Holy shit, what happened to you?” she says.
Casper clamps his mouth shut and holds up his palms. He takes a few steps backward before heading back to his consultation with Anna. He avoids drama like a bad ex-girlfriend.
Thor is the only one who speaks up. “Jason stopped by.” He picks up the smashed bouquet of roses on the floor and walks over to the front desk, dumping them in the trash before he leaves too.
“Ohhh. Yeah, Kelly told me about the birthday breakup.” Frankie smiles and swirls the ice in her plastic Starbucks cup, giving me a once-over. “Had a little confrontation, did you?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I gruff.
“I understand. First rule of fight club,” Frankie assures me, returning to her post behind the front desk. “Hope you got a couple shots in.”
I nod.
“Atta boy.” She plops her purse on the counter, then begins rummaging through one of the desk drawers, procuring a first-aid kit and handing it to me. “Here, take this back to your office and get cleaned up. We can’t have clients walking in and seeing this shit.”
I slump down into the cool black leather of my client chair, knees bent to prop up my drawing tablet. After queuing up a playlist on my phone, I recline the seat slightly and angle myself away from the aisle that runs the length of the shop. Hopefully the headphones snug over my ears will deter anyone from talking to me. My knuckles pale as I grip the stylus firmer than I should, so I take a deep breath and relax my hold until it’s comfortable in my hand.
Thoughts wander as I make the first few strokes of a face. Realism has been my main priority lately; it’s one of the hardest styles to master. There’s so much precision and attention to detail required, not to mention a profound understanding of light and shadow, demanding daily practice.
Feminist anthems belt through the headphones, but the songs fade into the background as my concentration settles in, softening my anger. The crushed roses near the front door mightas well have been a confession. They weren’t a sign of Jason’s remorse, they were bait. His apology should have been as loud as his disrespect, and there’s no florist in town with enough stock to make up for cheating. However, my current attitude is aimed toward Logan and the way he seemingly revels in stirring up trouble in my life lately—starting with Sunday night’s photo shoot.
What the hell was that?
Was he fucking with me? Was he simply creating a sexy atmosphere for our shoot? Whatever it was, it was . . .new. Until recently, he’s never given me any reason to suspect he harbors feelings. We’re close friends, for sure, but never more than that.
Oh fuck.Have I misjudged his intentions this entire time? The stylus slips from my fingers and into my lap. No. There’s no way. He would have said something by now. I pick up my pen and keep working while I overanalyze every interaction we’ve had over the last two weeks. If it were anyone else, I’d think there was a likelihood—but this isLogan. He can’t be held to the same standards.
My chest tightens and I swallow the lump in my throat. I should ask if Frankie wants to grab drinks after work; I could use some girl time—I need to step away from all of this so I can gain some perspective. My own feelings have made this already confusing situation even more disorienting.
Dad’s letter was filled with relationship advice, but I’m done with fragile egos and bullshit. Logan can do whatever the hell he wants, it’s his life. I’m not going to wait around with bated breath for him to open up to me and explain himself. It’s an exercise in futility. I have enough on my plate, like getting my career off the ground and making a name for myself, and the Bozeman Tattoo Festival.
My pen glides across the screen as I add more detail and structure to the man I’m drawing, sketching out glasses over thesmoldering eyes that stare back at me.Damn it. I’m drawing Logan.
Groaning, I tap the corner of my screen to erase the canvas.
I throw my head back against the headrest and inhale a renewing breath. Glancing down at the blank screen, I start over, this time drawing my mom. I’ve practiced her figure numerous times before. I only know her from photos, but I’ve memorized her face. She’s a beauty. I wonder if she ever dealt with any of this shit with Dad. Probably not, Dad worshipped the ground she walked on. Which is the only thing I’ll accept going forward.
I sigh, adding the high cheekbones I inherited from her.
Yeah, this calls for drinks. Normally, Logan is the person I talk things out with, but not this time. I need a break from him to determine how I feel before we hash out what happened—because he owes me an explanation. He’s not sweeping that fight under the rug.
Climbing out of the chair, I make my way toward the front desk, where Frankie is scheduling an appointment over the phone. I move around the desk and fold my hands together. She smiles at me while finishing her call.
When she hangs up, Frankie tucks her black textured curls behind her pierced ears and angles her chair toward me. “How may I help you?” she asks sweetly, drumming her fingers on the desk. I wonder if she’d ever let me draw her. Her warm sienna skin tone is beautiful, and matches her bright brown eyes.
“Hey, what are you doing after work?” I ask.
“Nothing, why?”
“Wanna go out for drinks?”
She gives a delayed blink. “Oh my God. Yes!” Her voice lowers to a whisper. “Did you hear about what happened earlier?”
I match her hushed volume. “With Jason? I didn’t see the whole thing. I’m still trying to figure out what the hell went down between them.” I roll my eyes. “I need to vent.”
