He stares at me, and I hesitate before giving him an answer, wishing it were another man asking me out. “Maybe.” I stand, and he joins me, picking up his skateboard.
“That’s not a no. I’ll take it. Thanks for dinner.”
“Sure. It was nothing.”
“It was great pizza and even better company. And when are you going to show us some of your work?” He shoulder bumps me, another easy grin on his face.
Neveris my immediate internal response. I don’t feel like explaining that my current pieces all depict the same subject: a moody biker with a bad attitude. I don’t know if I want to reveal the full extent of my obsession with the man beyond the drywall. “Nothing is ready yet,” I lie, hedging. I head out the door to stall any more questions about my art.
“You know you’re going to have to show it someday.”
Groaning, I cover my face with my hands. “I know. I know. I just—” I don’t tell him I’m scared shitless. The people who have seen my work can be counted on one hand.
“That bad?”
Removing my hands, I laugh at his horrified expression. “No. I think they’re good, but I worry about what others will think.” What will my father think? What the world will think of the ‘Park Heiress’ dabbling in art. I’m not classically trained. I never went to art school. My art is intuitive and self-directed.
“Yeah. It’s a risk putting yourself out there, but you just have to rip the bandaid off and go for it. Your art won’t be for everyone, but that’s okay.”
Humming, I think about what he says. It all sounds great, but deep inside, I’m still that little girl wanting to please people.
“Jacinda tells me you are always blowing away the art teacher at those free classes.”
Laughing again, I shrug. “They’re probably biased. I’m always bringing the owner coffee and donuts.” I turn away, not wanting to talk about it anymore. I head down the stairs. Julian walks behind me until we are standing in my studio.
“It’s going to be amazing once it’s painted. Do you need any help? I’m great at painting walls.”
“Are you?” I grin.
“Yeah. My mom doesn’t believe in hiring people. Painted every wall in our house.”
“Maybe,” I say again.
He rolls his eyes. “That’s your favorite word.”
“Maybe.” I can’t help but giggle. He’s so relaxing to be around. I walk to the door and open it. The air has a chill, and I wish I were wearing my sweatshirt instead of a thin T-shirt and tights with my sneakers.
“Woah, nice bike. Who does it belong to?”
It’s Stone’s bike, and I hesitate mentioning it, but it feels like he’s watching me just by it being there. I haven’t seen him since he walked out of my gallery, leaving that cherry scent and smoke.
Julian walks toward the sleek black and chrome bike. It’s even bigger than I remember from the night he drove me to King’s place. The night I wanted him to fuck me, he said no.
Julian walks around it, crouching here and there, taking in all the details. I spot them too. Things I never noticed before because I was too excited by the possibility of being with him.
“The detail is incredible.” Julian’s awed voice echoes in the night.
I see what he means. The inner workings look exposed, and there are skull insignias everywhere.
“I think it’s a Fat Boy.”
“A what?”
He looks at me like I’m from outer space. “These are classics, Cam. Like OG type shit. Whoever rides this knows his Harleys. Everything looks custom. It must have cost at least a100k if not more.”
The reverence in Julian’s voice makes me roll my eyes. Thankfully, he’s still lusting over Stone’s bike to notice.
Julian finally looks back at me and smiles, stepping closer. “I had a good time.”
