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I hesitated, my eyes once again scanning the crowd. “Maybe later. Duty calls.”
Claudia pouted but nodded, watching me as I walked away. I could feel the weight of her gaze, mixed with the intensity of the dozens of eyes in the crowd. The intoxicating blend of power, mystery, and attraction was something I'd been missing since I’d been laying low on Paisley’s behalf.
But soon–all would be revealed.
25
PAISLEY
The incessant chatter of my coworkers about the festival had been echoing in my head all week. The descriptions of the twinkling lights, the aroma of the wines, the crafts on display at the booths, and the sheer vibrancy of it all seemed like something I didn't want to miss, even if I felt a bit under the weather.
I took a moment, looking at myself in the mirror. Dark circles had formed under my eyes, and I felt a pang of annoyance. This was supposed to be my week - the art gallery setup, the festival, my budding romance with Austin. Yet, here I was, sniffling and coughing.
"Darn it, Paisley, you're not missing this," I muttered to myself, reaching for some concealer to mask the tiredness. After applying a touch of lip gloss and letting my curly hair fall loosely over my shoulders, I felt presentable enough.
I walked to the town square, and the festival was everything it was hyped up to be. Lights were strung from booth to booth, casting a warm, soft glow over everything. I could hear quiet chatter and laughter, combined with the strumming of a guitar from a nearby stage.
Taking a deep breath, I could smell the distinct aroma of wines, blending with other mouthwatering scents. I decided to start with some mulled wine, having heard from more than one coworker that it was the "drink of the festival."
Approaching a small booth with a sign that read "Handcrafted Mulled Wines," I was greeted by an older woman with a gentle smile. "Hello, dear. Care to try some of our best?"
I nodded enthusiastically. "Heard a lot about it. Thought I'd give it a shot."
She poured a generous amount into a clay mug, steam wafting from the hot liquid. I took a sip, and it was like an explosion of warmth and flavor, the spices dancing on my tongue.
"This is incredible," I exclaimed, earning a chuckle from the older woman.
"Just the thing to warm you up on a cool evening," she replied with a wink.
With my mug in hand, I wandered to the crafts section. Booths showcased handcrafted jewelry, intricate pottery, and even handwoven shawls. A particular stall caught my attention, displaying beautiful hand-painted scarves. Each was a masterpiece, with vibrant colors and intricate patterns.
The artist, a young woman with fiery red hair, noticed my interest. "Hey! Like what you see?"
I fingered one of the scarves, admiring its delicate texture. "These are beautiful. How long does it take to make one?"
She shrugged, smiling. "Depends on the design. But usually a couple of hours. The drying is what takes the longest."
We chatted for a bit, discussing techniques and sharing a laugh over some paint mishaps. Eventually, I bought a beautiful turquoise scarf, imagining it draped over one of the walls in my new gallery.
Moving on, the aroma of freshly baked pastries wafted through the air, drawing me towards a booth with a sign that read "Bakery Delights." Rows of pastries, from croissants to fruit tarts, beckoned. An older man behind the counter caught my eye and winked.
"Sweet tooth, eh?"
"Can't resist a good pastry," I replied with a smile, selecting a chocolate éclair.
He laughed. "Can't say I blame you. Enjoy!"
My fingers still played with the fringe of the scarf I'd just purchased, lost in the intoxicating atmosphere of the festival. Between the wine, pastries, and arts, I felt caught up in a whimsical fairy tale.
Then came that abrupt squeal of the microphone, a sharp contrast to the ambient sounds. My head jerked towards the stage, the sharp feedback pulling me out of my reverie.
"Testing—can everyone hear me?" a familiar voice boomed. A shiver ran down my spine. No, it couldn't be...
But as I craned my neck to see, there he was, Austin, standing confidently on stage, a broad smile on his face, waving as the crowd began to cheer.
My heart plummeted to my stomach. What was he doing on stage? And why was the crowd so ecstatic to see him?
He chuckled into the mic, sending a ripple of laughter through the crowd. "I guess the mic's working, then!"
