Page 5

five

*ADEN*

T he dinner party I host in the gallery, once a year, is for a limited audience. The main artists shown in my gallery are invited, some artists who usually apply for the event, some of my most loyal customers, some art enthusiasts, and of course, my employees.

It’s a fancy event, but also an intimate one with people I appreciate and trust. And it’s an opportunity for new artists to network.

“This is amazing!” Cedric gapes. He doesn’t even hide how happy he is. From all my guests, he is probably the most in awe.

“Close your mouth or you will catch a fly,” Lynn teases, before introducing the man at her side. He is tall and athletic, pretty much like Lynn herself. He has a kind, open face. “Patrick, meet my employer and friend, Aden Randall, and his mascot, Cedric.”

“I am not his mascot,” Cedric says seriously while shaking Patrick’s hand. “I am his assistant.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” I say, shaking his hand as well.

“The pleasure is all mine.” Patrick puts his arm around Lynn’s shoulder and smiles at us.

We make a bit of small talk, but neither Lynn nor I are big on it. Knowing her, she just wants to drag her man to the buffet and eat something, and flirt with him. I wholeheartedly understand that. She works enough, and this evening is for her to switch off working mode.

I decide to retreat politely. “I am going to greet some of my guests. Enjoy the evening, you two.”

“We will,” Lynn says. “Thank you.”

“I just saw one of the influencers from the opening night of the last exhibit,” Cedric says. “Time to network!”

I shake my head, amused, when I see him walk away.

He walks with so much energy, and almost like he is dancing.

On my own now, I walk through the gallery and talk to whoever I walk by.

A lot of these people are friends, too, or at least acquaintances.

I also make an effort to talk to the artists who are here for the first time.

Sterling and Mateo are here also.

“Aden.” Sterling addresses me in his natural, calm and confident manner. It takes me by surprise, but then I remember we settled on a first-name basis. “Thank you so much for the invitation.”

“I am glad to see both of you here.” My gaze falls on the young woman next to Sterling. “You must be Sterling’s sister?”

“Yes.” She smiles shyly. “I am Roxana, Sterling’s younger sister.”

She looks a lot younger than him though looks can deceive.

“Roxana has just started college,” Sterling explains to me.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” she says, smiling at her brother. Then she turns to me. “Sterling has been supporting me for years now.”

That makes a lot of sense. There is some sort of melancholy in his pictures, something real and heart-wrenching aside from his confidence. If he is the one supporting his sister, it makes me wonder what their parents are doing or if they are still around.

However, it’s not my position to ask, and certainly not the right time for it.

“I am happy to see you here, Roxana. I hope you will enjoy the evening.”

“I’m sure I will.” She smiles happily. “Thank you.”

“And your second guest?” I ask.

“Oh, he is grabbing something to eat,” Mateo says, gesturing towards the buffet. I follow the direction he is pointing at, my eyes falling on a young man with wavy hair and a slender figure. My heart almost stops beating.

“Shades of Blue,” I mutter.

Mateo and Roxana haven’t heard me, too busy chatting, but Sterling has. He stares at me, his mouth dropping open. “How could you tell?” he asks quietly.

“You captured him too well for me not to recognize him.”

“No one else can,” Sterling muses. “Aside from those who know us well enough. He is one of my best friends, like a brother to me.”

“I am going to say hello to him,” I say.

“Are you not afraid it will shatter your illusion?” Sterling sounds curious, not upset or worrying.

“No, not at all. Do you know why?”

“I have no idea,” Sterling admits.

“He is your muse, not mine,” I explain. “For me, however, your picture scratched on a surface I want to know more about.”

Sterling purses his lips and nods. “I guess I understand.” He smirks. “He has claws, be careful.”

His words make me chuckle. “I figured as much.”

I leave the small group and walk towards the buffet, grabbing a plate and putting some pieces of food onto it before I approach the young man. He looks to be the same age as Mateo and Sterling.

“Hello,” I say.

The young man startles, raising his eyes to look at me.

He looks surprised first, then nervous, before a new expression spreads over his face.

Defiance? Curiosity? It’s hard to tell, but very intriguing.

Sterling was scared it would shatter my illusion to see him or talk to him, but in fact, seeing his face makes me even more curious.

“You are the young man from Sterling’s paintings. ”

The guy gapes, his face turning red like an overripe tomato. “How could you tell? Ster never shows my face!”

“He caught your core,” I say. The core of his soul.

“So, you know me already?” he asks defiantly.

“Not at all,” I say. “I just recognized the man on the bathtub and the man at the beach. I have no idea who you really are.”

Though something does strike me as odd, have I seen the man somewhere before?

At that, he blinks. “Noel,” he finally says. “That’s my name.”

“Aden.”

“I know,” he says. “See, I know something too.”

“Are you interested in art?”

“No,” he says, so honestly that it makes me smile. “I mean, I like Ster’s art, but I don’t know much about artists and paintings,” he hurries to explain.

“If you don’t know much about it, how did you know me?”

“Mateo showed me your picture,” he admits. “And…”

“And?”

“We met years ago, briefly,” he admits.

So, I do know him! My gut feeling didn’t betray me. I scan his face, trying to place it somewhere. Noel is watching me, before he shrugs. “It was just a brief encounter,” he reassures me. “And you probably meet tons of people daily.”

“Won’t you tell me how we met?”

“No,” he says bluntly.

Goodness gracious. That guy does have claws!

I try to remind myself that he is not my usual type and that flirting with him will probably just lead me to be disappointed at best and heartbroken at worst, but damn it, I feel weirdly drawn to him.

It’s his eyes. His deep, soulful eyes. Sterling captured his very essence so well, it’s even more mind-boggling now that I am talking to him in person.

“Care for a glass of wine?” I ask him.

Noel blinks at me, eyes wide. Then he nods. I take two glasses for us, walking to the balcony with him following me. “Why don’t you push me for an answer?” he asks after I hand him a glass.

“You said you wouldn’t tell me,” I say. “So, what’s the use in pushing you?”

It has the wanted effect because Noel’s eyebrow starts twitching. “You are kind of infuriating,” he says bluntly. He obviously doesn’t mean it, though, or he would have left me by myself. Instead, he keeps sipping at his glass.

“Do you like the wine?”

“Yes, it’s a good Cabernet Sauvignon.”

This does take me by surprise. I didn’t think he would so easily be able to tell what we are drinking. “So, you are a wine connoisseur?”

“Not really,” Noel says. “But I know the most important wines.”

“How come?”

“I am a bartender,” he explains. He looks flustered as if it’s embarrassing to admit.

“So, you can mix cocktails?”

He perks up visibly. “I can, but I don’t like alcohol much.” He gestures at his glass. “I only occasionally have a glass, but usually stay away from heavy stuff.”

“Wait, you are working as a bartender, but don’t like the drinks there?”

“Yeah, I don’t. It’s a long story.”

I wait a moment in case he wants to tell me more, but he doesn’t.

Understandable, I don’t waltz around, telling random strangers my problems either.

I let my gaze wander over Noel once more.

He is nothing like Sterling’s paintings, but at the same time, he is.

It’s the discrepancy between the melancholy around him, which Sterling catches in his pictures, and his confident, slightly prickly personality.

I am fascinated.

“Mr. Randall?”

I raise my gaze to look right into Noel’s eyes. Warm-toned, brown eyes, hidden behind his wavy bangs. He looks beautiful.

Not what I go for usually.

My God, what am I even thinking? Lynn didn’t do me any good.

“Yes?”

“Are you hitting on me?” he asks.

I snort at his bluntness. “I don’t know yet. Am I?”

“I don’t know either,” he says.

For a moment, we just look at each other. I can’t deny an initial attraction to this guy, but at the same time, I am not sure if he is the challenge I want. Is it true that I am always choosing the easy way? Was Lynn right with what she said?

“Maybe you are just obsessed with Ster’s paintings of me,” he adds.

“Maybe,” I admit.

Noel looks surprised. “You are honest,” he mutters.

“Is that a problem?”

“No, in fact, I prefer it that way.” A pause. “And now?”

For a moment, I consider my options. I have no idea what the fuck I want, and what I am even doing here with Noel, but somehow Lynn’s words still echo in me. She is right. What I have been doing the last couple of years has been utterly sad and bordering on pathetic.

“Here,” I say, taking a business card out of my pocket. On the back, I scribble down my private number. “If you ever feel like going for coffee or a drink—a type of drink you like—text me.”

“You are leaving it up to me?” Noel asks. “The ball is in my court, huh?”

“Maybe it is,” I admit. “But I gave you my private number, didn’t I? I barely hand it out.”

“Not even to hook-ups?” he asks.

“No, not to anyone. Barely anyone has my private number. I mostly use my work phone. Feels less personal.”

Noel looks at me in awe. “Then it’s special,” he says, neatly placing the card I just handed him in his wallet. Then the sass is back in his eyes. “Don’t believe I won’t contact you!”

I chuckle. “I am curious to see if you will.”