Chapter 13: The Perfect Subject
JULIA
Sitting side by side in front of the canvas, I pushed away any lingering thoughts. I was in their territory, but I was determined not to be brought down!
I had experienced far too many setbacks in my life to react to something as small as this.
Heather’s delicate fingers were brushing through a collection of pencils on the table, her face the picture of concentration. Even now, she looked utterly beautiful.
“I hope this isn’t awkward for you,” she suddenly said, talding the by surprise. She glanced at me, her blonde ponytail nearly smacking my face.
I blinked, “What do you mean?”
Heather smiled and reached out to place her hand over mine. I flinched for a second, but she kept her hold firm. “Well, you know…considering you and Anders used to be a thing. I hope it’s not uncomfortable. I really didn’t know he was going to be here. However, when I got home, he was already taking a shower in my apartment.” She chuckled and shook her head, looking down at her lap. I swear–it feels like he lives here now.” Ah. There it was. The knife, wrapped in silk.
I forced a smile back, determined not to give her a reaction. Not at all,” I said, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s ancient history.”
She tilted her head again, her brows lifting in a way that made me want to laugh at how transparent she was being. “Good! I just didn’t want things to be weird. And you’re right,” she added, now letting go of my hand. “It’s been too long, right? How many years has it been? Five, six? It’s practically been forever.”
I smiled. “Oh, I don’t remember,” I replied firmly. “Sorry, I added. “I don’t really keep track of unimportant things.”
Her eye twitched for a second, but then, her sweet smile was back again.
Then, to steer the conversation away, I gestured at the canvas in front of us. “So, about this project…Do you have a particular style you’re thinking of?”
Heather’s expression softened as she looked at the blank canvas. “I like to keep things soft, you know? Delicate brushstrokes, muted colors. I think it reflects who I am.”
I nodded, keeping my opinion to myself. “That’s nice. I don’t really have a specific style. I just go with whatever works for the piece.”
Heather glanced at me, her brows furrowing slightly. “So you’re versatile?”
“Sure,” I said with a shrug. “I can do pretty much anything Abstract, impressionism, hyperrealism–whatever the project needs. Honestly, I still don’t know where my true style lies,” I muttered, suddenly having an internal
dilemma.
It was true. Although I loved making art, it wasn’t always rainbows and sunshine. Until now, I still didn’t know what I really wanted to do. I just know I want to continue pursuing this path.
On the other hand, Heather’s eyes lit up at the mention of hyperrealism. “Oh, hyperrealism! I’m terrible at that. The details drive me crazy. I don’t have the patience for it.
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Chapter 13: The Perfect Subjects
She turned to me, her smile turning a touch more sincere,Would you help me with it? I mean, we are going to make a portrait. I would infer that hyperrealism would be the right route to choose.”
I hesitated, briefly wondering if this was her version of extending an olive branch or just another subtle power move. Either way, I nodded. “Sure, I can guide you through,”
Heather clapped her hands together softly, her enthusiasm making me feel a little less on edge. “Thank you! You’re a lifesaver.”
Now that we had some semblance of a plan, the next question was the subject. “So, who or what–are we painting?” I asked, looking at her expectantly.
Heather tapped her chin, her eyes scanning the room. “We need something striking. Someone who catches the eye but also has depth.”
Before I could suggest anything, the door creaked open, and I froze.
Evan walked in, his expression neutral as he glanced between the two of us. He was dressed this time, thankfully, though the plain black t–shirt and jeans made him look just as effortlessly good. His damp hair from earlier had dried, giving him that slightly tousled look that I hated to admit still suited him.
Heather’s face lit up as if she’d been waiting for this exact moment. “Oh! There’s our subject!”
blinked, turning to her in disbelief. “Him?”
“Hmm,” Heather hummed. She gestured toward Evan. “We need a beautiful subject, don’t we? Anders is perfect.”
I stared at her, half–expecting her to burst out laughing and admit she was joking. But no, she was completely serious. Meanwhile, Evan stood there, hands in his pockets his brows raised in mild confusion.
Heather leaned toward him slightly, her smile as sweet as ever. “Won’t you do that for me, babe?”
I cringed internally at the way she said it, the word ‘babe‘ dripping with sweet affection that made my stomach twist.
Evander hesitated, his gaze flicking between Heather and me. For a moment, I thought he might say no, he sighed and gave a small nod.
“Sure.”
but then
My jaw tightened as I turned back to the blank canvas, trying to ignore the wave of emotions crashing through me.
One thing was for sure–this was going to be a long project
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