Taking a deep breath, I roll my shoulders and stretch my spine, letting a long breath out.
This isn’t just my job. This ismycompany. What I do affects everyone who works here. There’s no space or time for distractions.
I fight the aching void in my gut. It’ll pass.
“Yes, Patrice.”
She pushes the heavy door open and pokes her grey head through the crack. “I’ve received the actions from the board meeting. Shall I get IT to set up a second office for you downstairs?”
I rub my forehead. Life like a fish in an aquarium is imminent.
“Yes, I suppose.”
“May I suggest you get the walls frosted so you have some semblance of privacy? It’ll take a few days.”
Dropping my hand, I give her what I can muster of a smile. “You’re a mind-reader. Thank you, Patrice.”
She sends me that knowing smile of hers.
“Oh, and send me the org chart of the team, please,” I add. “I should at least learn their names if I am to invade their space.”
“Certainly, sir.” Patrice nods and leaves. The door doesn’t shut properly behind her, as always, and I’m about to close itwhen my phone vibrates on the couch, and my attention snaps to it.Alice.
I squeeze my eyes shut, doing my utmost to ignore the buzzing little devil machine.
Fuck, this is going to be a long week.
CHAPTER TWELVE
artist
REY
Beanie’s wet nose and soft fur on my naked leg wake me up at my makeshift desk. It’s the fourth night in a row I’ve fallen asleep studying instead of going to bed. I stretch and wince. My back aches, and my mind is buzzing with new information.
After Horace called on Monday and said he’d got an intern spot approved, I was surprised it’d gone so fast.
“He’s desperate for good artists,” Nia divulged when I came in to sign the contract on the same day. “I reminded him it’s a freebie. You’re a fast learner, already in the system, and know the Infinio staff. Plus it’s a temp contract. Easy to get approved.”
I smiled at her. “Thanks.”
She waved it off, but I knew she didn’t have to do that for me, and it warms me knowing I have her in my life.
Not wasting a minute of my temporary intern role, I’ve spent every waking moment since signing the contract focused on it.
I’m learning about concept processes and digital paintingworkflows, shadowing artists who’ve worked at Infinio for years, watching tutorials (even in my spare time), and using new tools. I’m about to implode with information overload, but I’m loving it. My brain feels lit up, resurfacing memories of forgotten artistic skills and techniques that are finally useful again.
It’s the first time in a long time I’m sketching.
Being in the art department every day, surrounded by their work and conversations, and with the memories I have of the magical scenery at The Orion, ideas keep forming that demand to come to life. I’ve started taking my notebook with me, like I used to.
I am an artist again.
If I hadn’t been so busy, I might’ve spent more time staring at my phone, wondering why Robin isn’t texting me back. Which is better than me delving into the crushing disappointment that threatens to take over my chest.
Three messages without an answer must be sufficient proof that he’s now ghosting me.
It sucks like all hell, but it’s for the best if he’s not into it after all (tell that to the knot in my stomach).
