overused. Kash smiles and shakes his head. “I don’t know how you do it.” He turns back to the screen, but King’s and Summer’s eyes are both on me, sparking a familiar sense of unease that has me taking another step back.
“You doodle?” My jaw clenches at Summer’s inquiry. This is one of the questions I have always loathed, more so when it comes from another person who likes the arts. It’s as though they’re looking for validation to see if I’m good enough at what I do to be considered an artist when really, who sets that criteria?
“I study art.”
Kash’s eyes move from the screen to my face, his eyebrows drawn. “You live it.” He turns toward Summer so I can’t see his expression. “Seriously, her art is amazing. I think she could make a really cool logo graphic to replace the current one we’re working with.”
“I thought you were going to have the team in Switzerland work on that?” Summer’s discomfort with involving me is evident in the softness of her voice.
“I don’t know. I can’t get her work out of my head. I want her to paint every wall in this house.”
Summer’s eyes flash to mine and her lips purse ever so slightly. “If you want to meet up, we can go over the branding materials. I can be pretty flexible with my schedule since I know you have like four jobs.”
My head shakes as I work to suppress my concerns of Summer thinking of me as competition for Kash, finding her fear almost humorous. “Why don’t you guys discuss the other option first? I’m truly flattered, but I don’t do marketing and logos. I don’t even—”
“Stop selling yourself short. Meet with Summer. You guys can go have coffee or go to dinner or whatever, on me. Summer can fill you in on what we’re gearing toward, and I want you to show her some of your work so she can see how good you are.”
“We can go next week.”
I turn to Summer, reading her indecision, envy, anger, and defeat even though she doesn’t hesitate to extend the invitation. It makes me feel guilty and reminds me just how tightly knit this group is. “Yeah. No problem.” I hope she’s putting it out till next week to allow enough time to think of a good excuse to cancel, or at lease postpone, until Kash changes his mind.
“Look at these,” Kash says, oblivious to our exchange.
I approach the desk again, standing a foot from King’s shoulder because he’s the closest one to the door. Kash clicks to the next image. It’s an image of him upside down, holding his bike in place with just a single hand. The shot is amazing, capturing movement and the adrenaline rush he was feeling, but the finished photo has been softened so that it almost looks like a blurred thought.
“Is it an illusion?”
King shifts, looking over his shoulder at me. His lips nearly draw my full attention as they part. He grips the back of a chair, and I glance over to see the familiar scar that runs along the knuckle of his index finger. “This is supposed to look like a dream sequence.” I process his words seconds after they’re spoken because I’m realizing the scent I have been catching while doing laundry is his.
“That’s a cool concept. I doubt many people can do … that,” I finish lamely, pointing to the monitor.
“Don’t worry, Lo, we’ll have you doing some awesome shit by summer. Just you wait.” Kash’s grin stretches from ear to ear as he looks back at me. “Wait until you see this next one. It’s my favorite.”
The bike is midair and he’s parallel to it, as if doing a pushup off the handlebars. It makes my eyes grow wider with disbelief. “That’s amazing.”
“Get your sketchpad, Lo,” Kash says, his attention remaining on the screen. “We’ll hammer this shit out now.”
“I have to get going actually, but if you send me some of your favorite pictures, I can try to create something.”
“Cool, okay, I’ll text you then,” Kash says, still lost in thought. I doubt he’ll remember this
“You doodle?” My jaw clenches at Summer’s inquiry. This is one of the questions I have always loathed, more so when it comes from another person who likes the arts. It’s as though they’re looking for validation to see if I’m good enough at what I do to be considered an artist when really, who sets that criteria?
“I study art.”
Kash’s eyes move from the screen to my face, his eyebrows drawn. “You live it.” He turns toward Summer so I can’t see his expression. “Seriously, her art is amazing. I think she could make a really cool logo graphic to replace the current one we’re working with.”
“I thought you were going to have the team in Switzerland work on that?” Summer’s discomfort with involving me is evident in the softness of her voice.
“I don’t know. I can’t get her work out of my head. I want her to paint every wall in this house.”
Summer’s eyes flash to mine and her lips purse ever so slightly. “If you want to meet up, we can go over the branding materials. I can be pretty flexible with my schedule since I know you have like four jobs.”
My head shakes as I work to suppress my concerns of Summer thinking of me as competition for Kash, finding her fear almost humorous. “Why don’t you guys discuss the other option first? I’m truly flattered, but I don’t do marketing and logos. I don’t even—”
“Stop selling yourself short. Meet with Summer. You guys can go have coffee or go to dinner or whatever, on me. Summer can fill you in on what we’re gearing toward, and I want you to show her some of your work so she can see how good you are.”
“We can go next week.”
I turn to Summer, reading her indecision, envy, anger, and defeat even though she doesn’t hesitate to extend the invitation. It makes me feel guilty and reminds me just how tightly knit this group is. “Yeah. No problem.” I hope she’s putting it out till next week to allow enough time to think of a good excuse to cancel, or at lease postpone, until Kash changes his mind.
“Look at these,” Kash says, oblivious to our exchange.
I approach the desk again, standing a foot from King’s shoulder because he’s the closest one to the door. Kash clicks to the next image. It’s an image of him upside down, holding his bike in place with just a single hand. The shot is amazing, capturing movement and the adrenaline rush he was feeling, but the finished photo has been softened so that it almost looks like a blurred thought.
“Is it an illusion?”
King shifts, looking over his shoulder at me. His lips nearly draw my full attention as they part. He grips the back of a chair, and I glance over to see the familiar scar that runs along the knuckle of his index finger. “This is supposed to look like a dream sequence.” I process his words seconds after they’re spoken because I’m realizing the scent I have been catching while doing laundry is his.
“That’s a cool concept. I doubt many people can do … that,” I finish lamely, pointing to the monitor.
“Don’t worry, Lo, we’ll have you doing some awesome shit by summer. Just you wait.” Kash’s grin stretches from ear to ear as he looks back at me. “Wait until you see this next one. It’s my favorite.”
The bike is midair and he’s parallel to it, as if doing a pushup off the handlebars. It makes my eyes grow wider with disbelief. “That’s amazing.”
“Get your sketchpad, Lo,” Kash says, his attention remaining on the screen. “We’ll hammer this shit out now.”
“I have to get going actually, but if you send me some of your favorite pictures, I can try to create something.”
“Cool, okay, I’ll text you then,” Kash says, still lost in thought. I doubt he’ll remember this
Similar Books
