Page 43 of Infatuated as They Come
My laugh was muffled as he kissed me again. When he pulled away from me, he mouthed out a low “shower” and threw his jacket to the couch, forcing a scrunched up piece of paper to fall out of one of the pockets.
“I heard that,” Annie said.
“Sawyer’s a loud kisser. Don’t judge him.”
“Sawyer’s a loud everything. And I’m not. At least you have him to keep you from freezing. How many times has he painted you since you guys got there?”
I blushed as I picked up the paper and uncrumpled it. “He did a new one of me the other day.”
She snorted. “You sound annoyed.”
“Because he should be painting beautiful stuff. Skies and flowers and gardens, and instead, all he wants to do is paint me.”
“You poor thing. Being someone’s muse must besohard.”
“It’s actually super daunting whether you believe it or not. I just meant that he should be painting stuff he can sell. Stuff he can put in art galleries. If he quit his job,” I said lowly, “he could paint full time. He’s in New York City. This is the best place in the world for him to be as an artist. Do you think he listens to me? No. Of course not.”
“Yeah, that sounds like Sawyer.” She chuckled. “I gotta get started on some readings, but send me videos of your next routine, okay?”
“Will do. Talk to you tomorrow.”
“Bye!”
I hung up and flattened out the paper, my eyes met with a wrinkled and slightly torn version of a New York City map. Scrawled across the front in big bold letters was DAUNT STUDIOS with a whole heap of text underneath it.
Daunt Studios is one of the oldest art centered hubs in the Brooklyn area and is run by artists, for artists. With spacious open plan studios, our warehouse is the perfect place for emerging artists who need access to space and freedom to work on their art. We offer a quiet space, 24/7 access to the studios, and wash-up areas. We are open to all mediums and currently have three studios spaces that have recently opened up. Come connect with local artists and head to the website to apply!
I eyed the closing date at the bottom of the page. It was soon, with just a couple days left to go, and Sawyer certainly hadn’t mentioned applying. I dragged my MacBook into my lap and pulled up the website, instantly greeted with vibrant images of paintings and drawings and sculptures.
Sawyer joined me on the couch a few minutes later, swinging an arm around my shoulders. “Watcha doing? School stuff?”
“Why didn’t you tell me about this thing?” I tapped at my laptop screen. “The paper fell out of your pocket.”
His eyes moved to my laptop before sluggishly lifting up his shoulders. “I dunno.”
“You don’t know?”
“I have no time for stuff like that.”
“But you said when everything was settled you’d focus on your art.”
“Yeah, so?”
“Well, everythingissettled. You could even take some days off work, right? Maybe work part time instead of full time? Then you could go there and paint. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
“I can’t just ask to change my schedule. They needed someone to work full time and I was lucky I even got that job in the first place.”
I bit at my bottom lip. “But this is such a great opportunity, don’t you think? I saw the schedule and they do a lot of exhibitions. Imagine having your stuff up in a gallery for everyone to see. Plus you’ve just been working on small canvases since you got here. Wouldn’t you rather have all that open space to work on big projects?”
Eyes stuck on my laptop screen, he exhaled deeply. “I’d love to do that.”
“So do it.”
“I’m too busy with work, Holly. You know that.”
“Well… You could quit…”
Finally, his eyes met mine and he shook his head. “I’m not quitting my job just so I can paint.”
