Page 81 of The Fate Factor

“I don’t always do anything.” I swat her ass lightly, then soothe it with a squeeze. “Admit you’re excited.”

She squirms above me, an inch from riding my face, but I hold her just shy of the pressure she wants, that I’m dying to give her.

“It’s just…”

I nudge her with my nose, and she hisses.

“I don’t like to get excited about stuff until—Ah.”

I crane my neck, letting her feel my breath on her skin, but nothing else. “Noel.”

She whines, then laughs. “Okay, fine. It is pretty amazing.”

“It’s fucking awesome. Will you come by the bar after you’re done?”

“Stop teasing me and I’ll do whatever you want.”

I press up and suck hard.

“Okay. Yes. Yes.”

“That’s my girl. Now spread your legs and let me kiss you good night.”

twenty-four

Noel

CaraBeanCoffeeisa bright and colorful row of converted fishing shacks on the working end of the waterfront. I arrive as the sun is rising over the water, painting it a beautiful sherbet behind the rusty white fishing boats. Jamie’s words—feel it, Noe—warm me from the inside as I park in the dirt lot and head to the door.

Iamexcited for this. This is the kind of work I dreamed of doing when I applied to art school. But everyone’s a dreamer in school.I’ll be a painter, or a writer, or change the world at the helm of a non-profit, say like ninety percent of undergrads. Then you graduate and the real world hands you your first bill, your mother moves into your condo, your family gets sick, and suddenly all of that seems like a fairytale.

Working as an artist full-time is something I hadn’t even considered before I met Jamie. But he’s inspiring, supportive in a way I haven’t really experienced. Not that Kate and Colin haven’t supported me in my work, but their advice has always been more of a careful nudging, like leading a spooked horse. Jamie’s never cared about being careful. He grabbed my hand and started running the minute we met.

Cara steps from the middle of the three buildings, meeting me on the small deck overlooking the water. “I’m so excited you’re here,” she says, hugging me like we’re old friends. “I swear meeting you the other night just seems like serendipity.”

I try to keep my laugh from sounding unhinged. I want to scream:You have no idea! as I follow her inside. She’s laid open a notebook of inspiration photos on the roughhewn counter-height bar and we pull up stools.

“I’ve thoroughly scoured your Instagram,” she tells me. “And I really think our ideas are going to work so well together.”

“I think so too.”

Portland is full of murals like the one she wants. It seems every building has donated a piece of its brick and stone facade to color—painted lighthouses and boats and abstracts. As a kid obsessed with art, it felt like some special heaven made just for me. Getting to design one myself, leave my mark on the city I love so much? It’s as serendipitous to me as it is to Cara.

“So,” Cara says. “Tell me all of your thoughts.”

I pull out my tablet full of sketches I put together. “Well, you could probably see from my socials that flowers are sort of a specialty of mine.” She nods along as I pull up my last line of floral invitations on Etsy, admittedly old now but suddenly my most relevant portfolio. “I think that works especially well with the organic slant to your brand. Maybe some honeysuckle like this.” I point to the rendering on my screen. “Chamomile bloomsaren’t the most decorative but I could sprinkle them amongst some of the other natural elements that are in your teas.”

This idea came from seeing Jamie’s hops plants in a new light, how pretty the plain flowers look inked onto his bicep. “I can pull the colors here,” I wave a hand at the stools we’re seated on, a mixture of nautical blues and greens, “for the abstract behind the blooms.”

When I’m finished flipping through the digital sketches, Cara’s face is beaming. “I love it.”

“You do?”

“So much!”

I bite back the full watt of my grin to maintain some professionalism, but inside I’m bursting. “I think it will be quirky like you wanted, but really push your brand from behind the design.”

“It’s brilliant. Really, Noel. I guess the only question is what you said the other night, that you’re only here temporarily.Sooo, after it’s designed…” She gives me that gap-toothed smile that takes years off her face in the same way Jaime’s dimples do. “Are you going to stick around and paint it?”

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