Page 17 of Infatuated as They Come (Sinful Trilogy #2)

The hour was suddenly up and I didn’t want to be late to see Holly cheer, so I quickly cleaned up before I threw on my jacket.

It was a quick train ride there and the second I got out, I was greeted with a sea of people wearing that same deep red color Holly had on earlier.

I still wasn’t a football guy and never would be, but I’d sit through a million boring games for my girl.

I figured following the crowd dressed head to toe in red would lead me to where I needed to go.

I was dodging people left and right as I walked fast, and I was making good time until I got caught in the crossfires of some people handing out flyers.

I was trying to avoid them, but I made the mistake of making eye contact with some dark-haired guy and he grinned at me from ear to ear, forcing a brightly colored piece of paper in my face.

I stepped back, taking in the sight of a New York City map decorated with graffiti in his hand.

“Daunt Studios is open all week and stays open late,” the guy said. “We have new spots that have just opened up for artists so they have a place to work! Are you an artist? Or maybe you know one. Take a flyer!”

I took the paper from his hands. “Uh, thanks. I am one, actually, but I’m not a student.”

“I knew you’d be one!” His brown eyes lit up. “I could tell. You don’t have to be a student, though. Most of the members are, but we have a few who have already graduated and some who are self-taught artists. So, you already graduated then?”

“Uh, high school, yeah. I just moved here from Dallas.”

“What are you doing just wandering around here?”

I nodded to the right, over to the stadium and the crowd that was getting bigger and bigger. “Football. My girlfriend’s a student here. She’s on the cheer team.”

“Oh, cool. Well, my name’s Damien, and I help run a local art organization based in Brooklyn.

It’s a great place to meet other artists if you’re new here and just wanna make friends,” he explained.

“But we also run a lot of events and have a few spaces for up-and-coming artists to use as studios. What’s your poison? ”

“I paint. I try to, at least. I’m gonna be busy with work, so I’m not sure how much time I’ll have for any of this stuff.”

“I get it. For a lot of us, our art kinda has to come second place,” he said with a sigh.

“It can be difficult, and if your tiny New York City apartment is anything like my tiny New York City apartment, you won’t really have the space to be creative and work.

That’s where we come into play. You can come down to Daunt Studios.

We offer rent free spaces for all kinds of artists.

We have exhibitions where you get to display your work too.

All we ask is that you commit to a decent amount of hours every week.

It wouldn’t be fair to other artists if we gave you the space and then you never show up.

We want the space to go to someone who will actually use it. ”

Ah, and there was the catch. Time was something I had to be careful with. “It sounds cool, but I’m pretty busy right now. Don’t know if I could commit to this,” I said, lifting the flyer up.

“Well, you could still apply and give it a try,” he said. “What’s your name? I’ll look out for your application.”

“Sawyer, but like I said, I don’t think I’ll have time for this.”

“Even if you don’t wanna work in one of the studios, you should come by one day and check out the art. We have a gallery that’s open every day.”

Nodding at him, I scratched at the back of my neck. “Yeah, that sounds cool.”

“The address and more details are on the back! Hope to see you there!” he called out before sprinting over to another person.

Picking up the pace again, I flipped the flyer over.

It was in Brooklyn and from my very new awareness of New York City streets, it looked like it wouldn’t be too far from work.

My tongue clicked. Painting in the apartment was a little hard.

It was small and cramped and the lighting wasn’t the best, so the idea of painting in a proper studio sounded good, but time wasn’t something I’d have a lot of now.

Monday to Friday was for work. Work equaled money.

Money equaled being the kind of man that could look after Holly, the one she could always rely on, the one who could keep her safe.

The words my dad said to me before I left home hit me hard, and then I scrunched the piece of paper up and shoved it into my pocket. I’d have no time for stuff like that.

I kept following the loud crowd. It wasn’t hard to figure out which way to go, and soon I found myself on the bleachers.

I eyed the long line of cheerleaders at the edge of the field, not stopping until my eyes landed on Holly.

Face all sparkly with glitter, hair pulled back into a neat ponytail once again after I had supposedly ruined the first one, all topped off with a thousand-watt smile.

She found my eyes and blew me a kiss and I couldn’t fight back my grin.

My eyes stayed stuck on her as she moved in perfect synch with the other cheerleaders, that tiny skirt she had on flying up a little too high for my liking in the process. But I loved seeing her cheer her little heart out, my focus on her the whole time instead of the game.

It finally came to an end and I made my way down the bleachers, eager to get close to Holly again.

She had barely got off the field when one of the Columbia players stepped into her path, flashing a grin her way she either didn’t see or care about, because a second later she was falling into my arms. I could see disappointment flicker across his face as the realization hit him: that whatever he had been hoping for wasn’t happening, because she was all mine.

“Go Falcons!” Holly shook a pom pom at me. “Sorry, it’s hard to get out of cheer mode.”

“Nah, I like you like this.” My hand grasped her chin, tilting her head to the side and taking in all the sparkly glitter on her cheeks and eyelids. “Little fuckin’ disco ball.”

“They love glitter here.”

“You look cute, Pom Poms. And you were really good tonight. Gave me a tiny heart attack when they threw you up that high, though. Be careful up there, huh?”

“Those girls are very strong; you don’t have to worry. Did you have fun? I know you don’t like football.”

“Yeah, but I love you, so it was worth it in the end.” A cold gust of wind suddenly hit us both, and she pressed herself further against me.

“So cold,” she said.

My hands found her arms, instantly noticing how cold her skin was despite all that hard work she had just done. “You want my jacket?”

“Then you’ll get cold.”

“So?” I took my jacket off and laid it on Holly’s shoulders, the sleeves a little too long for her. “Looks better on you, anyway.”

She pecked my lips. “You ready to go home? My legs are killing me.”

“You just want me to give you a massage.”

“Hm, maybe. Sounds like a good end to this week. Let’s go find us a cab.”

And we were just about to turn around and head on home when I heard someone call out Holly’s name.

Looking over to the source of the noise, I saw a guy approaching us, a big grin on his face as he gave Holly a wave.

Hair all neatly swept back, he slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he stood in front of us.

“Oh, Nate, hi,” Holly said, still tucked up against me. “I didn’t know if you were coming tonight.”

Ah. So this was him. This was Nate. He had that whole all-American, Ivy League look to him, the kind Holly’s dad probably went crazy over.

“I got here late so I kinda missed the whole cheer show,” he said with a sheepish chuckle. “My bad.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. This is Sawyer, by the way! My boyfriend!” she said, her voice all cheerful. “Sawyer, this is Nate.”

And she said that word so proudly too. Boyfriend . I couldn’t get enough of her saying that.

“Oh, I finally get to meet Sawyer,” Nate said, one arm outstretched as a grin spread across his face. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Holly’s dad.”

“All bad things, I’m guessing,” I said as I shook his hand.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Sure. Makes sense.”

“Holly’s dad said your hair was down to your ankles. I see he exaggerated,” he said.

“He said that?” Holly muttered, pressing her face into my chest. “Oh my God, why is he like this?”

Nate shrugged. “I never take anything he says seriously. It’s hard to when I always beat him at golf. You don’t go to the club Sawyer? I’ve never seen you there.”

“Golf’s not really my thing,” I said. Neither were country clubs, and I was pretty sure they wouldn’t let me in, anyway.

“It gets kinda boring, I get it. But it helps me relax which is why I was there a lot before the semester started. That’s why I kept bumping into Holly’s dad.” He gestured to her. “It’s better than therapy.”

“What were you so stressed about?” Holly asked.

“Gap year, remember?” He rolled his eyes. “I should be in Fiji right now. On a Fijian beach. Drinking Fiji Water. Hanging out with Fijian babes. ”

“You can buy Fiji Water here if that helps at all,” Holly offered.

“It’s not the same,” he said before looking at me. “Anyway, you and me should sit together next time, Sawyer. You a football fan?”

“I’m more of a hockey guy, but I like watching Holly cheer,” I said. “But I had fun, I guess. Team was pretty good tonight.”

“Holly said you’re good at fixing cars. Mine’s kinda having some issues. Think you could take a look at it? I swear the dealership’s tryna rip me off.”

I gave him a shrug. “Yeah, bring it over. We’ll check it out.”

“I can text you the address,” Holly piped up. “It’s over at—”

“Holly, there you are!” A loud, blonde cheerleader was suddenly storming up to us. “I was looking for you! Ooh, cute jacket.”

“Thanks,” Holly said with a sweet little laugh, pressing herself up against me some more. “Sawyer, this is Claudia. Claudia, this is Sawyer.