Anyone in Los Angeles who wanted to join us already has, and anyone famous enough to attract lots of people would be a long shot. Plus, no one likes to be the next choice in line—people will take reaching out so last minute as an insult.
“Damn.” Daisy peers at the list in my hand. “You never had problems getting people to show up to art shows in high school. How is this so much harder?”
And that’s when I know what we need to do.
Regina’s classroom has a quirky familiarity about it. The boldly colored bookshelves brim with sculptures, and massive art reference books occupy half of her desk. She has a circular clock on the wall covered in disco ball tiles, and instead of the time, the face simply readsNOW.
“Thank you for meeting with us.” I wipe my sweaty palms against my pants.
“Of course,” Regina says with a hesitant smile.
“I have a project I’m working on. A pop-up, here in Harlow. My…”Fuck buddy, but just for one night? Woman I’ve had a crush on for ages?“My good friend here, Daisy, runs The Mirage hotel. She and I are partnering together on an exhibit on the property.”
“Oh.” Regina’s body relaxes into her chair. “That sounds incredible. You’re more than welcome to flyer in the appropriate spots here on campus.”
“We wanted to inquire about something else.” I reach for my bag, but Daisy’s already holding the notes and photos I need out to me. At the top is the painting I made for her: the one of The Mirage in all its glory. The one that put her lips on mine.
Daisy looks like she’s about to burst with excitement. “We want to get the students involved,” she says in a rush. “Have them in the show.”
She was right about the showcases I had in high school. Teachers, siblings, parents—well, most parents—and anyone and everyone related to students would show up. Students bring a crowd, and that could bolster our opening-week sales, although that’s not what Regina will care about.
“In addition to the portfolio for their end-of-semester project,” I say, “this will give them a real-world scenario to showcase their work alongside accomplished artists. Professionals.”
Regina’s eyebrows raise, and she nods her head slowly as if she’s processing the proposal. “It’s certainly an incredible opportunity.” She taps her lips in thought. “It’ll depend on the principal and superintendent. Do you have a theme for the evening? Since they’re teens, it can’t be anything risqué.”
“We’ll keep things PG,” I say. “By involving the school and younger artists, I’d revise our concept. Something that will suit everything we’ve already accepted into the show, but also makes room for the student work to fit.”
I catch Daisy’s face on me, her mouth turned up.
“Do you have a list of artists?” Regina asks.
She slides a pair of red acetate glasses onto her nose and skims the printed Excel spreadsheet of names, artwork, and thumbnail-sized photos of what the artists are providing. After a moment, she removes her frames and sets them down on her desk. “Ms. Johnson, Max may have mentioned that I’m aiming to expand the art program here. Something like this is…” Her eyes turn glossy with dammed-up emotion. “On its own, this willmean so much for these students. But considering what it could mean for launching a visual arts school, this could be immense. In so many ways. Thank you.”
My throat tightens, overwhelmed by her reaction. When I was a weird little teenager sketching in classroom corners, this chance could have changed my life. Even in college, I would have loved participating in a show like this. And now, I get to pass this chance on. I can’t predict the butterfly effect this could have on the art scene in Harlow.
We shake hands with Regina as she fights back tears. The second Daisy and I step into the hall, she loops an arm through mine. “I’m excited.”
“I couldn’t tell.”
“Will we have enough room?”
“That’s the beauty of a pop-up. We can change the lineup, rotate through student work more frequently, and keep things fresh. We might—what?”
Daisy stops and stares up at me. “You never would have gone for this when we started planning.”
“You don’t like my idea?”
“Iloveyour idea. It’s brilliant.”
“Yeah,” I say almost to myself, the excitement bubbling inside me like a pot on low heat. “It’s pretty cool.”
“It’s more than that.”
In one smooth movement, Daisy rises onto her toes and wraps a hand around my neck, pressing her mouth against mine. She gives me the simplest kiss, but it completely warps my mind—I forget where I am, what I’m doing, why I’m here.
She lowers her heels but keeps her body angled toward me.
“What was that for?” I ask, her breath mingling with mine.
