Page 30 of Best Friends, Tennessee

“And you can’t make fun of me.”

“NowthatI can’t promise you,” Finn said, his eyes lighting up.

I bit back a smile. “Fair enough. That’s never off the table, to be honest.”

Finn stretched out on the blanket. He really was like a human Golden Retriever sometimes—big and noble and in good spirits, almost all of the time.

“So spit it out,” he said. “How’d you act pathetic in LA?”

“Well, at those parties, the whole time, I would just be waiting to see if I spotted any celebrities,” I admitted. “It feels so stupid to say it. But every now and then, they show up, and when I first got to LA it made me feelveryimportant to be in the same room as any major or minor celebrity.”

“I still remember when you texted me saying you were in the same room as that actress fromRosy House Lane.”

I puffed out a laugh. “Don’t make me cringe. I never told you, but I tried to go up to her and strike up a conversation.”

“What did you talk about?”

“I tried to ask what perfume she was wearing, and she answered nicely,” I said. “But then I invited her to the gallery whereIworked, and I think she may have mistaken me for trying to hit on her. I wasn’t acting gay enough.”

“Oh, shut up. You were probably more charming than you think,” Finn said. “You’re always charming.”

I gave Finn a little shove, shifting my position on the blanket. “It’s weird to think about.”

He hummed. “I thought you’d be missing LA every second of being here.”

How could I even describe how I felt about being back here?

The honest answer was that I was starting to realize that it was both the worst thing and the best thing that could have happened to me.

I would always have complicated feelings about Tennessee, but I’d slowly realized LA wasn’t the place for me, either.

Ididfeel more secure in myself now than I ever did in high school.

But I couldn’t sit here and tell Finn I enjoyed it here, either.

I bit the inside of my cheek. “I thought it was the end of my life when I lost my gallery job. One thing I learned was that I cared about the actualartmore than the other people in the gallery world, though.”

“People who go to art galleries don’t care about the art?” Finn asked.

“You’d be surprised. People go just because they’re on a date, and they want to seem cultured, and be able to tell their friends they went to an art gallery. And the peoplebuyingthe art only care about it a small fraction of the time. Mostly they just want investments for their millions and millions of dollars.”

“But you cared about the paintings.”

I pulled in a long breath. “I really did, actually. There are so many talented painters. Seeing people sell their first paintings was the best part of the job. Honestly? That’s the only thing I miss.”

“Wow,” Finn said. “The truth comes out.”

“What the hell isthatsupposed to mean?”

I looked at him and he had a wicked grin on his face. “You’re saying you really don’t miss LA all that much.”

“So?”

“So Tennessee ain’t that bad.”

I held up a finger. “That is not what I’m saying.”

“Ori Adams likes Tennessee,” Finn said, as if he were announcing it to the world. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

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