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We walk along the boardwalk, looking at art, meeting some of the artists; talking and laughing and eating cotton candy from each other's hands. I don't think there could be a more perfect date.
Cal is purchasing an impressionist piece that he noticed me eyeing. It's not terribly expensive, but not something I would buy for myself.I don't want him to feel like he has to buy me things just because we're on a date.
I'm generally uncomfortable with anyone buying me things at all. I didn’t even let my parents pay for dinner… when we were speaking. I’d seen a therapist for a while after the rift with my parents. They’d told me that I have an issue with ‘hyper self-sufficiency’ and what she’d referred to as ‘an abysmal lack of self-confidence’. I’ve been working on it and I think I’ve made a lot of progress. I look at Cal and unabashedly check him out from top to bottom, my eyes lingering over the way his dark jeans fit over his thick, muscular thighs.
Yeah, I'm doing alright.
"What are you thinking about?" Cal asks with a raised eyebrow.
"Your jeans," I answer truthfully, but quickly change the subject. "Thank you for this. You honestly didn't need to buy itfor me, but I do love it. I know exactly where I'm going to hang it in my apartment."
He kisses me lightly. "You are more than welcome. I can't wait to see where you hang it," he says with a saucy wink.
“Awfully presumptuous of you, sir,” I say jokingly, raising a hand to my chest.
“Oh, I meant to help you hang the piece. Did you have something different in mind?” he asks, batting his eyelashes with mock innocence.
We continue ribbing each other, chatting and laughing as we make our way through the next two exhibits, when something catches my eye. So far, we've been walking along one side of the boardwalk, intending to have dinner at the end of the pier, and then walking along the other side on our way back. But there’s a sketch in the window of a coffee shop across the way that is demanding my attention. There's something about it, something familiar.
Cal follows my line of sight. "Ah, there it is."
"Therewhatis?”
"Your surprise. Come on, we can grab a coffee, too, if you like." He grabs my hand and pulls me across the walkway and into the most charming little coffee shop I've ever seen. There are soft couches and armchairs everywhere, low lighting cast by beautiful blown glass and stained-glass art pieces. The owner is clearly an art lover, and behind the hung art is a gorgeous mural of a sunset, blending into a dark blue starry sky. I'm so taken in by the atmosphere that I forget we're apparently here to see something, and I hope that I haven't made a poor impression by ignoring the people around us in favor of thebeautiful surroundings.
“Fancy meeting you here," a familiar voice drawls. My head nearly spins as I turn around to face none other than Ezra Beckett, my near obsessive crush and my date’s best friend.
This is fine. It's not awkward at all.Totally fine.
"Hi, Ezra. I didn't realize we'd see you here," I say with a wide smile, using an overly friendly tone to cover up my embarrassment.
"A happy surprise, I hope?" He says with an uncertain grin.
He was my surprise?
"Of course! I love that we ran into you. I suppose I have you to thank for the idea of coming here? I had no idea this area had events like this. I love it so much."
"I thought you might, but it was Cal that was desperate to make sure everything would be perfectly to your liking."
"You both nailed it," I say, and then blush at the unbidden thoughts that arise. The idea of them working together to please me, even in this very non-sexual way, overwhelms my ability to think and I zone out for a moment while Ezra talks to Cal.
I drift away, looking at the art that is displayed tonight. Most of the pieces are life drawings. I recognize a few of the models, taking an extra interest in the side profile of Cal. Ezra doesn't usually set up his easel during class. He’s always walking around the room, giving advice, answering questions, or talking to the class as a whole about certain techniques and their origins. Did he do these from memory? Or did Cal pose forhim privately? My face flames at the thought.
Finally, I come to the piece that originally drew my attention. It's an intentionally unfinished piece, or at least I think it's meant to be that way. It feels as though Ezra is trying to convey some kind of longing or incomplete feelings for the subject. The form is female, her back to the viewer, head turned slightly, as if looking at the sky over her left shoulder. Long hair cascades down her back, and she's nude, the swell of one breast just visible in the gap between her torso and her arm. Something like jealousy clenches me from the inside, not just because of the idea of Ezra sketching this nude model, but because of the longing and emotion I feel from the piece. I don't believe she is just a model; I believe he has feelings for this woman, or else he's even more talented than I thought.
"This piece is unfortunately not for sale. I had to beg the artist just to bring it here for display," says a female voice from next to me.
I flinch at her nearness, nearly knocking the drink out of her hand.
"Jeeze, I'm sorry! I was off in my own little world. I didn't notice anyone was standing there. I apologize." I start to move away, giving her space to study the piece, but then her words register. "You know the artist?"
She nods. "This is my coffee shop. I have to beg and bribe him to do these exhibits, but I think he secretly loves it." For a hot second, I feel another ridiculous pang of jealousy, thinking she might be the woman from the portrait, but then I look closer. This woman is thinner than the woman in the drawing, and she has short, curly hair similar to Ezra’s. Blinking, I take another look at her and notice familiar eyes as well. "Are you… related to Ezra?"
"Oh, you know him? I'm his sister Taryn."
God, I'm an idiot. Not that I'd have any right to be jealous of her or the mystery model. For fuck's sake, I'm here on the best date of my life with one of the sexiest men alive.What is wrong with me?
Ezra walks up between us. "Taryn, you aren't badgering the poor woman, are you?" He looks at me with an exasperated, albeit loving, eye roll. "Don't let her talk you into buying anything. She could sell a bikini to a polar bear.” He turns his attention to me, "Cal went to get drinks. I told him chai, is that correct?"
