Page 10 of Almost Dating
Chapter Three
The next morning, Barry stepped out of the shower and took a good, hard look at his naked bod in the mirror. He puffed out his chest. Would Amber want this? He was long and lean, sort of a string-bean effect going on here. He struck a pose, arms up, flexing his muscles. He had some muscle definition along his biceps and abs from the pushups and stomach crunches he’d added to his morning routine months ago in an effort to up his hotness factor, but nothing extraordinary. He thought about beefy Rick with muscles and tattoos coming out the wazoo. Did Amber want more of the same, or was she ready for a change?
Last night at three a.m., she’d woken up, mumbled bye, and went to bed. He’d gone home, took care of his bad case of blue balls, and fallen asleep. He’d woken up determined to end his involuntary celibacy ASAP. With Amber. She was so different from the women in his past. She fascinated him. An artist with a sense of humor—she’d laughed at his jokes as so few did—and an innate kindness.
He dressed quickly in his black Dancing Cow T-shirt, rainbow tie-dyed boxers, and black pants, thinking of the romantic heroes in his mom’s novels. They all had mouth-watering (according to the heroines, who drooled a lot) pecs, abs, and biceps. Maybe he should up his game, really go for the muscle thing. Couldn’t hurt. Might even give him a confidence boost. He’d read inCosmo(he just happened to stumble upon an issue online) that the ladies responded to confidence. He might even unknowingly be giving off an aura of desperation with his single state going on fifteen months, three weeks, and two days.
He grabbed his iPad and did a quick search online for workout DVDs. He’d just see what happened. Expectations set reassuringly low. Ah, this one sounded good with a lot of five-star reviews:Six-Pack Abs and Two-Pack Butt in 30 Days. Perfect. Ooh, and it was set to a party song mashup. See, this could be fun. He ordered it with express delivery.
Out of curiosity, he looked up Amber Lewis and art. He found her paintings on eArt. Look at this stuff. Awesome. He bought the most expensive one, a splatter of black, white, and red, somehow made feminine by puffs of pale green behind it. It was unusual, one of a kind, and gorgeous.
Just like Amber.
~ ~ ~
Amber spent the weekend in a rush of creative energy. Her paintings were selling on eArt, and she was so encouraged she dove into a series of paintings detailing her feelings. She called this series Elation. Polka dots exploded on the first canvas, the second bouncing marshmallows, the third a serene sunset, one of the few naturalistic paintings in her collection.
She still couldn’t believe her most expensive painting had sold. Two hundred bucks. And then shockingly the next day, she’d sold another painting. And then another. Three paintings in three days! So far the sales had been from the same collector, a woman named Susan Dancy, but she hoped more people would discover her soon too.
She dipped her brush in fire red and made a diffuse line around the sun. Painting all the time was glorious. She felt like she’d finally made it. She was a success.
Over the next two weeks, Amber’s creative energy amped up to a frenzy. She was selling paintings nearly as fast as she posted them on eArt. Susan Dancy was her biggest fan ever. She’d made over two thousand dollars in the past couple of weeks. Newfound hope and renewed interest in her craft had her swearing off men and dedicating herself to her art.
She called things off with Rick, who responded with, “Whatever, babe, I’ve had better.” What a jerk. She had no time for people who didn’t one hundred percent support her artistic side.
She lost herself in painting her latest, titled Jubilation, a pink starburst surrounded by beautiful golden light. Hours passed like a blink of an eye, until she finished the painting and looked up, surprised to find it was night. Her back ached, her stomach growled, and she slowly returned to reality. She spotted a slip of paper by her front door and smiled. Bare never wanted to interrupt her artistic flow, so he just slipped her a note now and then to see when it would be good to hang out.
She knocked on his door. He answered, shirtless.My, my, my. Someone is working out. He had mouth-watering abs. A dusting of light hair ran down his chest, leading to a happy trail that made her lick her lips. Geez, it hadn’t been that long since she was with a man. She forced her gaze back to his eyes.
He smiled—big time.
“You forgot your shirt, Bare.”
“I was just changing.” He turned and reached for a clean white T-shirt from a pile of laundry in a nearby basket. “I like to leave work at work, you know?”
His work shirt was also a T-shirt but whatever.
“You want to see what I’m working on?” she asked.
“Love to.”
He followed her to her apartment, where she showed him her work-in-progress. She planned to let it dry and return to it with another layer of paint tomorrow.
He studied it, then turned to her. “What do you call this one?”
“Jubilation.”
He nodded. “It fits. So things are going well, then, huh?”
She put her hands on her hips and looked around at the newly completed canvases lining the wall of her living room. “Amazingly, they are. Hey, you want to get some takeout? I forgot to eat lunch.”
“Sure.”
“Great. Thai okay?” She headed for the kitchen drawer full of take-out menus.
“Works for me.”
A few minutes later, she’d placed the order, and they sat on the sofa with a couple of beers. Bare was so easy to be with. He was always so cheerful and agreeable, quick with a joke, and he liked her art. Friends didn’t get any better than that. Sure, she had Daisy and Steph, another teacher friend, but Bare was right across the hall and available at a moment’s notice. It was nice having a friend so close by that could just stop by whenever. She hadn’t felt lonely ever since he’d moved in.
