Page 13 of For the Love of Art

Lianne huffed. “The one with the bun and beard. Gold rectangular glasses, light brown skin, frumpy pants.”

My eyes landed on someone with that description.

“I think I see him.”

“Okay, well, he invented the–”

“Wait!” I held a hand up. “On a scale of one to eighteen plus, what did he invent?”

“Definitely eighteen plus.”

“I don’t need to know.”

“Maybe you do. You could use it.”

She took a sip of champagne.

I shook my head, turning away from her. I ventured further into the crowd of people, stopping at various paintings and taking in the depth of color and beauty they had to offer. A few people parted just as I turned to continue on, and I saw him. His brown hair was brushed and tucked neatly. I watched as his shoulders shook from a deep laugh. Beside him, a beautiful platinum blonde stood in a couture dress, holding a ridiculous jeweled clutch shaped like a wad of cash. She flipped her bone straight hair over her shoulder.

I felt stupid for feeling anything- for giving into his charm.

I just wanted to go home, but then I realized who made him laugh.

Copper hair.

Deep set lines.

Freckles.

A beautiful woman with a swollen belly on his arm.

Shit.