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“We can really do this, huh?” she asks.
I sweep my gaze over to her in her tight little graphic tee and distressed jeans, a far cry from the chick who showed up on my doorstep yesterday. She has her blonde hair down and curled over her shoulders, black hoops peeking through the strands and a red lip.
“Do what?” I ask.
She half-smiles and then looks away, like she was hoping she wouldn’t have to say it out loud. “Be friends again.” Her lashes flutter when her gaze comes back to me. “Be us again?”
The last part’s hopeful. As tragic as our almosts have been, we both know the true loss was moments like these. Easy and quiet even if the room was loud.
“We can,” I promise her.
When she looks away, I feel the tightness in my chest at the sight of her profile, one I’ve stared at so many times. One I might have just promised my way into staring at for the rest of my life.
CHAPTER 5
CHARLIE
The morning after Benji lets me tag along with him to Brana’s show, I decide to set out on my own. Find out everything I’ve missed about the city since moving to Pittsburgh a few months ago.
When I walk into the gallery, I smile seeing my former co-workers standing by the reception table. Marissa tosses a look over her shoulder before turning back to the group, but then her head whips around again.
“Oh. My. God. Charlotte?” She elbows Eloise in the ribs, and then she’s on me with a massive hug. “Girl, where have you been?”
I laugh as she sways with me. “Here and there.”
She drags her hand down my sleeve before tugging me toward the group where the rest of them wait for me. I’m passed around from Brandon to Sully and finally end up at Eloise.
My group of friends all look impeccable as always thanks to the clothing allowance from the gallery—boujee sells boujee after all. It makes me feel out of place, even if my crop top sweatshirt is hidden beneath my designer jacket. Especially when Marissa’s stare lingers on my jeans and sneakers.
“We’ve missed you around here,” Eloise says, pulling back.
I scan the large open space at the front, seeing all the changes they’ve made since she took over. None of the work I last curated remains, and I can’t help the little flip in my belly at knowing it all sold so quickly. Tracking down pieces to sell or buy might not have been a dream job, but I’m damn good at it. Even McCade reached out and asked me to find him one last piece before I leave.
The group catches me up on the gossip—Brandon telling me all about who everyone has hooked up with while Sully stays on the business side of things. We laugh and carry on like old times until I explain the wild ride I’m on of moving to Ecuador, and they all stare at me blankly.
“You’re…what?” Brandon looks like I just waxed him somewhere with the way his eyes bulge. After a quick look at Marissa to confirm he’s not the only one in shock he says, “I mean, how great for you.”
“Yeah. Very cool.” Marissa nods with far too much enthusiasm.
“Congrats,” Sully tells me.
I swallow and smile, but the expression falls flat, all those rocks weighing me down inside.
“Sounds like a dream,” Eloise chirps up, her eyes all but rolling as they all laugh.
She quickly rounds the focus back to where they plan on drinking this weekend. I feign interest, but the longer I’m there, the more the rest of me feels out of place with them. Finally, I can’t stand still, listening to which club has the hotter DJ, so I quietly step away and start looking at the art.
The pieces instantly set me at ease as I study the brush strokes on the canvas. I pick apart the layers as I wander the gallery, soaking in the creativity and feeling the colors on my skin. It makes me realize how long it’s been since I was covered in them. The times I’ve felt the most alive were moments where a brush was in my hand or when an artist’s work touched something so deep inside me, softly caressing to my soul.
It’s then I realize the difference between me and the group still cackling by the reception desk. The art is what has always mattered to me, not the price tag. Even when I chose pieces, I curated for the beauty and emotion behind them.
I snap a picture of one work, sending it to Archer. I’m still staring at the moody blues when my phone buzzes, but it’s not the brother I expected to be calling. I still perk into a smile, though, as I answer.
“Benji,” I say.
Loud music answers me, and he shouts, “Gimme a sec.”
I head toward the gallery doors, pointing to my phone as an excuse to leave without a formal goodbye. Sully waves while I get tight smiles from Brandon and Marissa.
