Page 26 of Waiting for Sunshine

CHAPTER12

MAX

When I heardShane’s rundown tonight two thoughts popped into my head. One was, if I ever see this Pete character, I’m punching him square in the jaw. The second was, I had no idea she was an artist. She definitely strikes me as the creative type, with her radiating positivity and her unique outlook on life. But it’s never come up so, how would I know?

We pull up to her house and I cut off the bike. I’d taken the long way back so she could enjoy the ride a little longer. Shane hops off and removes her helmet, running her fingers through her long, blonde waves. I stand up and copy her movements.

“That is literally the coolest feeling. Thank you for bringing me home.” She says, smiling up at me.

“I didn’t know you were an artist,” I say, changing the subject abruptly.

“Yeah…” Her answer drags with sadness.

“Are you not anymore?” I press. She sighs and leans against the motorcycle, looking up at the house.

“That is a complicated answer. I will always be an artist, it’s just who I am. I can’t just turn it off. But, I am not currently painting. I looked for art-related jobs when I first moved back, but nowhere was hiring. Then Ruby told me about the bartending position which was honestly perfect for the time being.

“So, here I am. Taylor’s house is too small for me to set anything up to paint in there, so I am left to shelf my creativity. For now, anyway. My old boss offered to help me find solutions to keep me in San Francisco, working as an assistant curator at his gallery, but it just wasn’t in the cards for me at the time.” She shrugs, bringing her attention back to me.

I watched her expression carefully as she spoke, seeing the sadness that washed over her when she talked about not being able to paint. The uncertainty when she mentioned staying in San Francisco, which is an idea I’m not a fan of, by the way.

“Sorry, I meant, ‘Yes, Max. I am an artist.’” She laughs, backtracking as if she’s shared too much.

“Do you ever wish you’d stayed in San Francisco?” I ask, leaning beside her on the motorcycle.

“For any reason other than my job, not at all. I missed being home so much, and being surrounded by my best friends makes me never want to leave again. But I had a really great job, and I was sure Hugh was getting close to displaying one of my pieces.” She says, hope straining in her voice.

I look up at the house again and see Taylor’s eyes peeking out the blinds, which makes me laugh. This girl is nosy as hell.

“Looks like you better get inside,” I say, pointing at the window. When Shane’s eyes dart to the open blinds, they instantly snap shut.

“Oh my god, she acts like she’s my mother.” She laughs. “Thanks again for the ride.”

“Anytime.” As I swing my leg back over the bike to take a seat, an idea starts brewing concerning tonight's conversations.

“Do you mind getting to the bar a little early for your shift tomorrow?” I ask.

“Yeah, no problem. Is like half an hour early good?” she asks.

“Perfect. See you then.” I say. She waves goodbye, but I don’t pull away until I know she’s safely inside. Then I head straight to the bar.

* * *

When Shane got to the bar, I had just finished the project I started working on last night. I had run home and got a few hours of sleep and a shower before coming back up here to finish before she showed up. I round the corner just as she walks through the door from the kitchen.

“Oh, hi!” she says, stopping just before she runs into me.

“Hey, thanks for coming early.” I’m starting to get nervous now that she’s here. I don’t want to overstep in her life, and now I feel like this may seem like a bigger deal than I’d originally thought it’d be. But I guess there’s no going back now.

“What’s up?” she asks.

“Umm. Okay, so I wanted to show you something. Follow me.” We head towards the corner of the bar where my office is. There’s a door to the left directly inside my office that leads upstairs to the extra storage space. We walk in and I open the door to the stairs.

“After you.” I gesture for her to go ahead of me.

“You do know Taylor will murder you if I don’t come back home tonight, right?” she asks, half teasing, half serious. I laugh and nod.

“Oh yes, I am fully aware,” I say, motioning for her to follow through on my request to head upstairs.

---