Page 79 of Tempting the President

Her lips parted in wonder.

I grinned.Hot chick, right?

She didn’t speak.

My forehead furrowed as I stepped closer to her, my eyes meeting her through the mirror.You don’t like it?

“I like it. I really, really like it.” She bit her lip. “It’s just that...” She twisted her head to look up at me, her eyes sparkling. “I can’t remember the last time I looked this...nice.”

Oh.

I almost lost my balance, but it wasn’t because my three-inch open-toed slingbacks had given in. No, it wasn’t that. It was the way her eyes sparkled.

It reminded me of...him.

When so many months had passed that nothing in the world reminded me of Ashton, when so many months I had existed in a blurry, unclear, rotting world, why was I suddenly surrounded by so many reminders of him?

The answer was clear, but I almost wanted to pretend it wasn’t, almost wanted to pretend I didn’t feel another piece of my heart chipping away.

KC touched my hand. “Hey. You okay?”

I blinked, rapidly, like I was in a contest since I forgot to use waterproof eyeliner. When I was sure I was no longer in danger of breaking down, I nodded.

She cleared her throat. Getting to her feet, KC said without looking at me, “I was really surprised you were okay with the morning shift for the exhibit.” She was giving me time to compose myself, and I appreciated it.

I took out my board and started to scribble.FEWER PEOPLE ARE AWAKE IN THE MORNING.

That meant fewer chances of being forced to talk about my works. My drawings should speak for itself, and if that sounded like another excuse for me not to speak, well – that was true, too.

KC was nodding in understanding. “I was like that, too, at the start, but I eventually got used to it.” She gnawed on her lip. “Will, uhh, Kellion come?”

I shook my head.

She was visibly surprised. “Why not?”

I shaped my hands into an airplane and let it fly.

“Oh. Greece, I’m guessing?”

I nodded.

“That’s too bad.” She squeezed my hand, grinning. “Don’t worry, I’m here to cheer you up so you won’t miss—-”

I moved to strangle her, but KC laughingly evaded me and quickly headed for the door. Outside the dressing room, virtually all of the students who had signed up for the morning shift were already there. The exhibit venue was a huge open space, with glossy white walls, tall ceilings, and black-and-white checkered tiles. All our works were framed and mounted on the walls while at the center of the room there were cocktail tables covered in black silk tablecloths and boasting of flower centerpieces made with recycled glass and wires.

At eight in the morning, the exhibit was officially open. As one of the exhibitors, I had to stay near where my works were, ready to answer whatever questions visitors may have.

“Are you ready, guys?” Professor Edison asked, and it was obvious he was having a hard time containing his ownexcitement. “Don’t be nervous, all right? And if we don’t have that many people checking your works out, that’s okay, it doesn’t mean there’s no value in what you’ve done. It only means we need to work harder at spreading the word.”

I fidgeted in my heels, unsure if I had become more depressed or inspired after his speech.

Professor Edison was taking deep breaths. “Here goes...” He flung the doors open.

And nearly got swept away by the stampede.

So many people!In the blink of an eye, the entire venue was jam-packed with visitors. But, I realized in surprise, they weren’t any ordinary visitors. Almost all of them wore media IDs, and my eyes widened as I caught sight of the logos printed on the IDs. They all belonged to the most popular arts and craft magazines, TV shows, and websites.

How?