Page 19 of Infatuated as They Come (Sinful Trilogy #2)

Holly

“Cold, cold, cold,” I said, turning the heat up in the apartment some more, then I quickly ducked under a heavy blanket on the couch. Phone pressed to my ear, I could hear my best friend enjoying my pain on the other end of the line. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not,” Annie said.

“I can literally hear you giggling.” I brought the blanket right up to my chin with my free hand, making sure not to knock my laptop on the armrest over in the process. I had just spent the last hour going over my article for The Daily Post before sending it over to Caroline.

“And everyone told me it was a bad idea to give you socks.”

Pushing one foot out from under the blanket, I eyed the fluffy pink material. “You can’t go wrong with socks. Trust me, I’m eternally grateful.”

“You know, I’ve been watching that video of your routine from the other night over and over. You guys were so good. Do you know how hard it is to not cheer anymore?”

I hummed. “You’re not gonna miss cheer when you’re in the middle of performing Romeo and Juliet . What’s happening with all your dance stuff?”

She groaned softly. “My Ballet Technique teacher hates me. She wants me dead.”

“She can’t be that bad.”

“No, she is. I’ve never had someone get so mad at the way I do a pirouette. She said I had a weak landing. Can you believe it? ”

“Your pirouettes are always perfect.”

“Well, she doesn’t seem to think so.”

“At least you get to live in that beautiful apartment. That must make it all worth it.”

“I swear I get the best sunset every night.”

“Send me more photos. When I visit, we’re going straight to the beach.”

“I still can’t believe you’re so far away. Literally on the other side of the country. How’d that even happen?”

“I know. Plus these different time zones,” I said, eyes falling to the window. If I craned my neck, I could make out the never-ending sea of beautiful lights that filled up New York City. “It feels like I’m time traveling.”

The front door suddenly opened and I couldn’t help but stop and stare as I locked eyes with Sawyer.

He had been coming home later and later the last few days and guilt kept eating away at me knowing he was working so hard.

Hair a wonderfully tussled mess as always, he dumped his bag on the ground and flashed me a smile that made my heart leap.

He made his way over to me, giving me a soft kiss to the lips before his eyes lowered to my pink socks.

Brows raising, he tucked a finger into the elastic and gave a sock a soft tug.

“What the fuck are these?” he whispered.

My laugh was muffled as he kissed me again. When he pulled away from me, he mouthed out a low “shower” and threw his jacket to the couch, forcing a scrunched up piece of paper to fall out of one of the pockets.

“I heard that,” Annie said.

“Sawyer’s a loud kisser. Don’t judge him.”

“Sawyer’s a loud everything. And I’m not. At least you have him to keep you from freezing. How many times has he painted you since you guys got there?”

I blushed as I picked up the paper and uncrumpled it. “He did a new one of me the other day.”

She snorted. “You sound annoyed.”

“Because he should be painting beautiful stuff. Skies and flowers and gardens, and instead, all he wants to do is paint me. ”

“You poor thing. Being someone’s muse must be so hard.”

“It’s actually super daunting whether you believe it or not.

I just meant that he should be painting stuff he can sell.

Stuff he can put in art galleries. If he quit his job,” I said lowly, “he could paint full time. He’s in New York City.

This is the best place in the world for him to be as an artist. Do you think he listens to me? No. Of course not.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Sawyer.” She chuckled. “I gotta get started on some readings, but send me videos of your next routine, okay?”

“Will do. Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Bye!”

I hung up and flattened out the paper, my eyes met with a wrinkled and slightly torn version of a New York City map. Scrawled across the front in big bold letters was DAUNT STUDIOS with a whole heap of text underneath it.

Daunt Studios is one of the oldest art centered hubs in the Brooklyn area and is run by artists, for artists.

With spacious open plan studios, our warehouse is the perfect place for emerging artists who need access to space and freedom to work on their art.

We offer a quiet space, 24/7 access to the studios, and wash-up areas.

We are open to all mediums and currently have three studios spaces that have recently opened up.

Come connect with local artists and head to the website to apply!

I eyed the closing date at the bottom of the page. It was soon, with just a couple days left to go, and Sawyer certainly hadn’t mentioned applying. I dragged my MacBook into my lap and pulled up the website, instantly greeted with vibrant images of paintings and drawings and sculptures.

Sawyer joined me on the couch a few minutes later, swinging an arm around my shoulders. “Watcha doing? School stuff?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this thing?” I tapped at my laptop screen. “ The paper fell out of your pocket.”

His eyes moved to my laptop before sluggishly lifting up his shoulders. “I dunno.”

“You don’t know?”

“I have no time for stuff like that.”

“But you said when everything was settled you’d focus on your art.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Well, everything is settled. You could even take some days off work, right? Maybe work part time instead of full time? Then you could go there and paint. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“I can’t just ask to change my schedule. They needed someone to work full time and I was lucky I even got that job in the first place.”

I bit at my bottom lip. “But this is such a great opportunity, don’t you think?

I saw the schedule and they do a lot of exhibitions.

Imagine having your stuff up in a gallery for everyone to see.

Plus you’ve just been working on small canvases since you got here.

Wouldn’t you rather have all that open space to work on big projects? ”

Eyes stuck on my laptop screen, he exhaled deeply. “I’d love to do that.”

“So do it.”

“I’m too busy with work, Holly. You know that.”

“Well… You could quit…”

Finally, his eyes met mine and he shook his head. “I’m not quitting my job just so I can paint.”

“But your job is taking up all your time. You didn’t come to New York to look after me, right? I can look after myself. You should be able to do the things you want too, the things you enjoy.”

“Honestly, I like working. I like the people there. And then when I’m done for the day I get to be with you,” he murmured, pulling me in close so that my head rested against his chest. “I get to see your pretty face and know it’s all worth it.”

“Just quit and let me pay rent.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“’Cause.”

“I’m a bad girlfriend if I make you go to work and not let you focus on the stuff you love doing. ”

He laughed, his chest vibrating against me. “You’re not a bad girlfriend. And you don’t make me do anything. I want to work. I told you that I like it. It’s a good place for me.”

I sighed deeply. “You really like it there?”

“I like it a lot.”

“But what about the program? Wouldn’t it be so nice to have your stuff in a gallery with everyone to see? The closing date is so soon. Why don’t you just apply and see what happens? The website says they’ll get back to you in just a couple weeks.”

“I don’t mind just painting for myself, Holly.

I don’t need a bunch of people to see my stuff.

All that matters is that I get to come home to you.

” His fingers stroked at my hair, the feeling so gentle and soothing it made my eyes close.

“And if I get to come home to you for the rest of my life, I promise I’ll be happy forever. ”

“Why do you have to be so honorable and annoying?” I mumbled.

Chuckling, he kissed the top of my head. “Don’t worry about this thing. I can paint in my own time. Don’t need some studio to do that.”

A knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts, and I felt Sawyer move from under me. “Oh,” I said. “I ordered food.”

“I’ll get it.”

We ate dinner together while I rested my head on Sawyer’s chest, talking about our days.

My focus kept going in and out, though, because all I could think about was how much he was giving up for me.

The only reason he needed to work was because he needed the money and the only reason he needed the money was because he was too stubborn to ever let me pay for anything.

A job should have been the last thing on his mind when he possessed all of that talent.

My fingers were itching to just grab my laptop and apply for him. If he could just check it out, maybe for a day or two, then he’d see how good it was, how he’d have the freedom to paint and do what he loved. All he needed was a little test drive, and then he’d get it.

A couple hours later, we were climbing into bed.

Sawyer’s arm instantly wrapped around my waist as he held me against him, my back to his chest and his nose nuzzling into my neck as he murmured out an, “I love you.” He fell asleep first, and even more guilt washed over me knowing he was so tired.

My hand squeezed at his on my waist. He did so much for me…

Stretching out my other hand as carefully as I could so I wouldn’t wake Sawyer up, I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and brought up the studio website.

I was back on the application page a second later.

The form was relatively short; they just wanted some basic details: name, address, birthday (which I had to guess), and a section to attach at least five photos of art.

I had a photo of almost every last one of Sawyer’s paintings on my phone, so I picked a bunch before hitting the submit button.

What was the worst thing that could happen?