Page 25 of For the Love of Art

“What? Did I show you the wrong picture?”

“If the wrong picture is a very erect penis!”

“That’s the right one. It’s Derek’s. I can tell by the mole right there.”

He held the phone out to me and pointed. I turned away.

“Oh, God. Why did the story need a visual aid? I know what a penis looks like, and I don’t need to be able to identify Derek’s specifically. It’s not like I’m going to be sleeping with him.”

“Obviously. You have too many female parts.”

“So, again, I ask why I had to see it?”

“Lianne always wants to see it!”

“Lianne bought a cat leash to walk Hamburger through Central Park and pretend like she’s some snooty rich lady who ‘does what she wants.’”I put the last four words in air quotes, though I wasn’t sure why. “We are very different people.”

Frankie shrugged as he tucked his phone back in his apron pocket. I shuddered and went back to cutting cheese samples.

The sound of fingers thrumming on the counter forced me to look up slowly.

“What?”

“Do you think a picture like that means he wants to get back together?”

“Oh, God!”

The bell over the door went off, and Lianne strolled in. Thank you, universe! She stopped and furrowed her brows at us.

“What’s got her worked up?”

“A dick pic from Derek.”

Lianne’s eyes lit up. “A good one?”

“I’m not sure. I’m trying to determine if it reads ‘let’s get back together.’”

Frankie pulled out his phone and showed her. Lianne moved Frankie’s hand closer to her face and narrowed her eyes as she studied the picture like it was The Birth of Venus.

“Not a getting back together dick,” Lianne said matter-of-factly. “Too casual.”

“What?” I asked, confused.

“It’s a very casual dick pick. No signs of romance in it.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’m going to regret asking this, but what exactly is a romantic dick pic?”

“One that’s posed and dressed up.”

“Yeah, this is very casual,” Frankie said, a tinge of disappointment in his tone.

“I need new friends,” I decided.

The bell for the shop chimed, and we all looked. When I saw who stood at the door, my body tensed. Nathan fucking Manning’s stupidly attractive grey eyes were set on me.

Frankie and Lianne slowly moved away as he approached the counter. He didn’t even pay any attention to their existence in the shop.

“Good morning, Isla,” he said casually with that voice that made my knees buckle.