Page 34 of Starrily
Her mind flashed to the Japanese restaurant—only she imagined it in the evening, all warm and cozy in subdued candlelight. She closed her eyes and dreamed. Sit and relax,with no pressure from work. Order a glass of wine. There’d be soft music playing, and butterflies in her stomach, and a gentle buzzing permeating her being—as for her date, well …
“Everything okay in there?” Ava’s voice brought her back to reality.
She shook her head—stop it, you didn’t imagine Simon in your fantasy—and stepped out. “You can play the fashion police if you want, but I’m taking this one.”
Ava dropped her jaw. “I think you should. It’s stunning.”
“Great.” She rested her hands on her hips. “If only I didn’t have to try seventeen other dresses before this one.”
“The sacrifices we all have to make.”
Callie stuck out her tongue in mockery, then went back into the booth to get out of the dress. And even though she was determined to get any date daydreaming out of her head—especially when it kept circling back to one maddening man who thought himself way too charming—she still couldn’t help but wonder.
Would Simon like the dress?
***
Simon bent over, fully focused, as he tentatively touched the silk fabric with a paintbrush. To the left and right of him, spread in a half-circle, other students of the painting course for adults did the same; some straightened, inspecting their masterpieces from a distance, like critics at a gallery; others fully leaned in, the tips of their tongues showing their concentration. Only occasional light scratching and rustling broke the silence in the room, brightened up by the rays of the afternoon sun.
“Remember to relax. Feel the creativity flowing through you. Harness it,” the painting instructor said.
Simon made a great big splotch on the edge of his flower. Well, it used to be a flower once—when the instructor handed them the designs, and he picked one that seemed easy enough. Painting flowers was a basic thing, right?
Painting itself was not a basic thing, as it turned out.
He heard a badly concealed laugh from his left. A young, blonde woman seated next to him inspected his frame of silk with amusement. “It’s much harder than it looks, isn’t it?”
Her attempt looked even more abstract than his, so he didn’t feel too bad admitting, “I’ve no idea what I’m doing.”
“I suppose that’s why we’re taking the class.”
The instructor came by, checking Simon’s progress and giving him some pointers—should’ve applied more resist there, take a smaller brush for the details, don’t be afraid of mistakes; it’s art, not science.
The hour passed quickly, and as class was dismissed, Simon packed his stuff and checked his phone.
“Hey.” The blonde approached, tilting her head to the side. “Wanna go grab a coffee?”
She was pretty. And so was that smile.
“I—” Simon started, with an intonation that was fully meant to continue into “would love to,” when something stopped him—a memory of a smart-ass voice and a prettier smile. “I can’t today, sorry.”
“No worries,” she said and left him—not only company-less for the evening but also slightly confused as to what exactly was going on with him.
***
“You’re going to a fancy dinner?You?” Simon used his elbow to push in the door to the coffee shop, then executed a needlesslycomplicated maneuver, doing a half-circle turn to end up inside the shop, holding the door open with his other hand.
“Is that so hard to believe?” Callie entered after him.
“Not the invite, no. But I didn’t peg you as someone interested in fancy dinners.”
Callie huffed. What did he know of her and the events she liked to attend?
Not much, because you refuse to let anyone into your life.
Simon eyed the two lines of customers waiting to get drinks, then cocked an eyebrow at her. “One line each, see who wins?”
One day, she’d discover what about Simon issuing challenges made her unable to back down. And also why she’d agreed to grab coffee for work here when they had perfectly good coffee machinesat work. “Oh, it’s on.” It did present an interesting dilemma—everyone knew the line you were in always moved the slowest. But if that held true for both her and Simon, whose line would move slowest?
