“Oh.” Suddenly I’m wringing my hands to keep them busy, and some of my earlier disappointment fades. His compliment leaves me feeling flattered and soft. “Thank you, Noah. I’ll consider it,” I say, already nervous—but excited, too. “What would you need from me? My portfolio?”
“That would be a great start.”
“I’ll text it to you.” This is aprofessional, friendlyendeavor, I remind myself. No need to feel so eager to get his number.
But we’re both smiling as he keys it into my phone, and his fingers brush the inside of my palm when he hands it back. “Perfect,” he says. “Thanks, Sadie. I’ll see you soon?”
“Soon,” I agree. There aren’t many things that can distract me from his carefree smile, but as I look to the wall again, I’m flooded with ideas. A small part of myself screams that I’m not a professional, that I’ve never taken on a project of this size, that I’m not at all cut out for it.
But my longing to put a lasting mark on this place—or anywhere, for that matter—is enough to keep the inspiration flowing. For now.
I spend the better part of Saturday afternoon updating my portfolio website, and I’m embarrassed to realize that it’s been more than three years since I posted anything new. I first built the site back in high school when I still daydreamed about pursuing art in any sort of serious capacity. I’d since squashed out that desire—most of it, anyway—and before today I’d updated the site only whenever I was feeling nostalgic. I didn’t need my website for commissions, since most of them came through fandom sites ormy anon social media accounts. But since those are full of NSFW doodles and dumb memes, and I’m not yet willing to share the hellscapes of those feeds with Noah (and especially not his boss), I resign myself to sprucing up my site instead.
I’d finally taken Liam’s advice to get out of the house and visit Busy Bean, and I’d been relieved to find the tiny, plant-filled coffee shop to be quiet and calmer than its name suggested. As I settle in with my second cup of the day, I add recent pieces to my portfolio that give a good impression of my style, skill, and range. I decide against adding in Spicy Cap and Green Gandalf, opting instead for other works, like a moody tree study I’d done of the park I like to run in near Liam’s house, a grim portrait of a warrior from a fantasy book series, and a scene of a witch standing before her inviting, vine-wrapped forest home.
After a moment of hesitation, I add in the sketch of Jaylie as well.
My stomach twists as I scroll through the new additions. Save for Jaylie, they’re all digital pieces. Nervous that I don’t have any recent examples of traditional art, I page through some of my older pictures on the site, back to the coral reef–themed mural on the pediatrician’s walls, a forest landscape I’d been assigned back in college, and the painting of Garzoth from Liam’s game room, backlit by flames and smoke.
Well. These are all I’ve got, so they’ll have to be enough.
I put the finishing touches on my website and publish it, then pull my phone from my pocket and drum out a text. Noah hasn’t texted since we exchanged numbers earlier this week, but in all fairness, he left the ball in my court.
Hey! Here’s my site, SadieSketches.com. Would love to be in the running for the mural
Noah’s response is almost immediate, which makes my chest feel light and bubbly in a way I refuse to think too hard about.
where’s Gandalf the green?
I snort a laugh.
kidding
these are great, Sadie! the witch cabin one is my favorite. I’ll send these all through to Dan and let you know what he says
thanks! Hope he likes them :)
For the thousandth time, I paint ideas for the mural in my head. I could do a portrait of a mad alchemist, but despite the name, it doesn’t feel like the right fit for the brewery’s vibe. Maybe a rendition of the cliff at Bear Hill, the town’s most popular hike and every kid’s favorite spot to smoke weed after dark, according to Liam. Or perhaps a fantasy scene of green and purple vines climbing the walls, the silhouette of a stag perched in the distance…I imagine what it would feel like to sweep my arm in a wide arc, dragging a swath of color across the brick wall. Would they have me paint while the brewery’s open, or after hours? Would it be Noah staying with me until the sky grew dark? Maybe while I worked, he’d let me taste the new beers before they were added to the draft list. Maybe he’d hold the ladder while I painted the highest corner of the mural, or reach up to steady me with his broad hand warm against my lower back. Maybe he’d—
The jingle of Busy Bean’s front door opening startles me out of my daydream, and I blink several times—hard. It’s a dangerously alluring train of thought that I’m tempted to let run off the rails—and a complete, utter waste of my time.
I glance at my phone again. No new texts from Noah after our exchanges about my website.
Perfectly professional. Perfectly friendly.
Without the rose-colored lens of two drinks on an empty stomach, I force myself to take a cold, sober look at the way I felt that night at Alchemist. Sure, I can admit to Noah beingobjectivelycute and ruggedly handsome, but I’m kidding myself if I think a distraction like him is something I should be indulging in this summer, as much as I’d like to. I have a thousand and one other things to worry about—like preparing to return to the city and getting my shit together—and I’m fairly certain my interest is one-sided anyway. Noah is always smooth assurance in the face of my flustered nerves, and he’s just as friendly with the other players as he is with me. And even if he were being sweet to me specifically, well—who can really trust a bard’s charm, anyway?
Better to just focus on the mural. Better to focus on what’s really within my grasp, as I’ve gotten carried away before with things I couldn’t handle. Too recently.
I sip at my lukewarm coffee; some of its sweetness has faded.
It takes a while to calm my thoughts about Noah, but once I start to daydream about the mural again, I’m surprised and almost uneasy about how optimistic I feel. This project feelsbig,somehow—like something I hadn’t known I’d been waiting for. For one, a job of this size would sustain me financially for the rest of the summer, combined with the steady commissions and my savings. On top of that, this opportunity just feels wonderfullyindulgent.It’s exactly the sort of thing Liam had sold me on when he’d convinced me to take the summer off: a chance to rest, recharge, spend time with him, and unearth old hobbies and joys that had slipped through my fingers when I told myself I no longer had time for them.
And if I allow myself to be honest, to listen to the quiet voice I thought I’d snuffed out months ago—I think I could do a damn good job with this. I really think I could do it justice.
Determination surges through me at the thought, and I tell myself it’s just the coffee at work.
Either way, I’m getting ahead of myself—I have no idea how long Dan will take to consider. To distract from premature brainstorming, I pull out my tablet and open the scan of my original sketch of Jaylie again.
