Page 120 of Paint Our Song

Miles doesn’t stay at the hotel that night. He tells Calvin he has paintings to finish, mostly because he’s brimming with inspiration at the moment and he doesn’t want to waste it.

They’ll see each other the next day. He’s going to go to the studio and hang out in the band’s dressing room while they have their meeting. Miles had insisted on it, because he wants to be there for Calvin, no matter what he actually decides to do.

When he gets back to his apartment, Miles realizes he should finish Calvin’s commission before anything else. Even if it’s past midnight. It’s never been fair that Calvin and the rest of the band held up their part of the deal by helping them with social media, even playing for free at the wedding, and he never finished the painting. It’s already inked, and he puts it on his easel, prepares his paints, and drags a stool over.

There’s a buzzing in his head as he works, and he hasn’t felt morefocused in years. Miles gets up a few times to stretch his back, which is already sore because of how long he spends bent over the painting. At around two in the morning, he heads to the kitchen for a quick snack while the current layer of paint dries out.

He should probably sleep and continue it another time. It’d be sensible to get some rest, except that he doesn’t want to do that at all. Miles goes right back to painting.

He doesn’t realize it’s morning until he sits up straight to stretch, and the light from outside the window hits his eyes. Miles squints at the brightness, then he stands back to get a better look at the completed painting. There’s an ache in his wrists, but he doesn’t care.

The band looks pretty good in his style, he admits to himself. Especially Calvin.

At seven a.m., he decides he shouldreallyget some shut-eye now, but his brain’s not quite ready to stop. He grabs an empty sketchbook and gets to work, again.

Miles ends up with a dozen new sketches. There are several ones of a black cat with narrow eyes. His favorite one is of the cat sleeping on a patch of sunlight on a patio, next to a guitar, surrounded by potted plants. The sketch is busy, crowded, like it usually is—it’s cozy, and he can already see how he’s going to paint it, and he wonders if he could have it made into a keychain to replace the one Calvin always uses.

***

Miles walks to the record label late in the afternoon like he told Calvin he would. He’s signing for a pass by the front desk when an arm suddenly wraps around his shoulders and tugs him. Miles yelps, only to see that it’s Chase, grinning widely at him.

“You made up with Cal?” Chase asks.

“I think so.”

Chase punches him on the arm. “Good! Come on. We can hang out at the cafe. Gil’s already there. You’re early and Cal’s not here yet… He texted that he’s across town with his sister.”

“I met her,” Miles says, following Chase as they pass through security. “She’s pretty cool. I can see why you’re into her.”

He snorts. “Sheispretty cool, but you know I only like to mess with Cal, right? I find it hilarious when he gets all huffy and puffy. I’d never actually flirt with his sister. Especially now that she’s engaged.”

“Oh.” He can’t help but ask, “So… did you ever get back together with that guy you mentioned?”

“Nah! It’s whatever, though. Tired of people complaining because, apparently, I’m dating my best friend more than them. Whatever the hell that means.”

Miles holds back a smile. “You mean Gil?”

“Yes. Fuck that. Can’t friends spend a lot of time together anymore?”

“I… well. Yeah. I guess you’re right.” He gives Chase a long look.

Chase leads them toward a corner of the modern-looking cafe where Gil’s sitting, and Gil glares at Miles, his chin resting on his hand. Gil asks, “Why are you here?”

Cackling, Chase takes the empty seat beside Gil. He waves atMiles to sit down as well, and Miles does, quite awkwardly.

Miles says, “Calvin knows I’m here.”

“Fantastic,” Gil deadpans. “If you could not mess with him again, that’d be great.”

There are two cups of coffee on the table, and Chase slides the other one toward Miles, even if Miles knows it was supposed to be for him.

“I didn’t mess—” He stops, takes a deep breath, and buries his face in his hands. “I didn’t mean to.”

With a grin, Chase knocks a shoulder against Gil’s. “I’m going to tell management I refuse to work with Theo moving forward.”

“What’s that, like the tenth time you’re saying it?” Gil asks.

“Oh, fuck off. I mean it this time.”