Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
“Had a talk with my brother,” says a voice at my side.
I turn.
Quintin stands there. In a simple white button shirt, cuffs rolled up, over a pair of jeans that fit his legs like a glove, he looks like a dreamy artist that belongs on the beach making miracles with his paints and his canvas. His hair is an adorably stylish mess, and his eyes sparkle in the intimate mood lighting.
“Your brother …?” I murmur back.
“He said I was guarding my heart, too, just like you.” Quin nods at the painting. “That’s us. Me and him. I had gone to see you at the restaurant, but it was already closed up for the night, and that sent me on a strange journey to the empty, dark beach at night. I felt him there, like he was waiting for me to find him.”
His eyes are so beautiful.
I swear I could kiss him right now.
“This isn’t me saying goodbye to him. He’ll always be with me,” says Quin. “This is me saying goodbye to fear. Goodbye to the rigid construct of what I think I need to become to please everyone. Goodbye to pleasing everyone. Goodbye to the old me.”
“It’s …” I’m looking at him when I speak. I wish I had smarter things to say about art. “It’s beautiful.”
Quin faces me. His lips are curled slightly, pushing out his irresistible dimples. “Do you know what I called the whole collection? ‘The Way I See You’. I know,” he says with a lift of his hand, “my professor won’t like it. He was so adamant about me embracing the darkness. But the truth is, it was never about the darkness.”
“I like the way you see me,” I tell him.
His smile softens as he peers into my eyes. “You might be the only person in my life who treats me like the artist I want to be someday. I like the way you see me, too.”
I’ve forgotten what I’m holding. “These are for you.”
He glances down at the bouquet of flowers I brought him, as if just now noticing. When he takes them, a look of genuine surprise washes over his face, lighting up his eyes like the fireworks in his painting. “I, uh …” Then comes the adorable blush I was expecting as he struggles to form words. “I’ve never received a bouquet of flowers before.”
That surprises me. “Really? Not ever?”
“Nope.”
“Not even on a date?”
He smirks at me. “Do I look like a guy who goes on a lot of dates?”
I suggestively lift an eyebrow. “You’re the kind of guy who should be asked out on all the dates.”
He sniffs the flowers, then gazes at me. “I guess you’re probably wondering what choice I made.”
All the humor flees my face.
My heart pounds.
It all just got serious.
And if I really am in love with him, if I’m really in love with Quintin Ruiz, whatever he says now has the potential to fucking destroy me.
I push out the word. “Y-Yeah?”
He peers into my eyes, lost for a moment. “I decided I need to follow my brother’s advice. I need to listen to my heart, which, for the first time, actually agrees with my brain. I can’t be blinded anymore by everyone else’s advice and say-so about what I should do with my life.”
The anticipation is killing me. He still hasn’t just come out and said it. Just say it, Quintin. Are you breaking my heart, or are you not? “So … what did you decide?”
That’s when he peers over my shoulder at something else—and his face changes. “Oh, fuck me.”
Chapter 19 - Quintin
Adrian lifts an eyebrow. “What is it?” He turns.
Across the room is a man he won’t recognize, because he hasn’t met him yet. It’s my dad, who apparently found out about my showcase somehow. I’ll have to either blame my roommates or myself for telling him ages ago, before his little ultimatum he gave me at the loft.
This is the last thing I need. I’ve only recently come to terms with what I want to do. My dad won’t understand. I don’t want to have this conversation here in front of all of my peers, fellow artists, and Adrian.
He starts heading my way.
I grab hold of Adrian’s hand at once. “We gotta go.”
Adrian turns two startled eyes onto me. “We do??”
I don’t explain any further. Holding Adrian’s hand, I cut through the crowd and make my way out of the room, hidden behind the bodies. I know I lose some petals from the beautiful bouquet Adrian just gave me—and that’s a whole other thing I haven’t even had time to process yet—but maybe the petals will just add some much-needed color and decoration to the otherwise colorless polished concrete flooring.
I come around a corner and press my back to the wall.
Adrian stands before me like a shield, his eyes wide. “Who was that?”