Chapter 232:
Artistic Affections
Megan’s Point of View:
Sunbeams streamed across the wide studio windows and reflected on everything. It was very early in the morning; the city woke up little by little. I had come here to find some peace in which to work on my painting. Still, my mind kept drifting back to the night before.
I’d lost myself in thought, replaying the conversation with Chris and Max at the cafe. Definitely an odd evening-full of words not said and tension. Chris was my rock, my anchor in this whirlwind of a world, but Max.. well, Max was an enigma. He challenged me in ways I hadn’t looked forward to.
“Morning,” a familiar voice cut through my reverie.
I turned to see Chris, who now stood at the doorway with coffee in both his hands. His smile was soft and comforting. “Morning,” I said, and he smiled back. “You’re up early.”
He passed me a cup and sat beside me. “Couldn’t sleep. Thought to join you here.”
I sipped at the coffee, feeling the warmth. “Thanks for the coffee. I needed this.
Chris bent over towards me, his gaze locked on mine. “Megan, about last night.”
I put my cup down and let out a large breath. “Yeah, that was…a lot.”
“You seemed really distant,” he still was low, but managed to press into his voice. “Is everything okay?”
My gaze rode back to his; it was set there in concern. “Just trying to process everything, you know? The painting, my past, Max.”
“Max,” Chris said again, with an edge to his voice. “He’s just been coming around a lot lately.”
I knew the real question behind his tone. “He’s teaching me how to draw. That’s it.”
Chris nodded, but I could tell he wasn’t quite convinced. “I just. I care about you.”
“I know,” I said, reaching out to touch his hand. “And I appreciate it. But I really need to figure some things out for myself.”
His grip on my hand tightened before his expression gentled. “Just remember, I’m here for you. Always.”
Before I could say anything further, Max stepped into the studio. I felt the atmosphere tighten with his presence. He looked between us, that knowing smile on his face. “Morning, you two. Hope I’m not interrupting.”
“Not at all,” Chris said, still polite but cool.
Max nodded and dropped his bag. “Great. Megan, I’d had some ideas for your painting. Thought we could work on it together.”
I turned to Chris, whose jaw was clenched. “That sounds good. Chris, would you mind?”
He stood, smoothening his face into a fake smile. “Of course not. I’ll be around if you need me.”
The guilt he had left the studio with caused a pang in my heart. The poor guy really was trying to be supportive, but this couldn’t be an easy situation for him. I turned back to Max and began zeroing in on what was ahead.
“So, what is it that you have in mind?” I said, trying to be cheerful.
Max wandered over to the canvas, lightening. “I think you’re really close, though maybe you need to let go just a little. Quit trying to control every little thing and let the emotion guide you.”
I scrunched up my face as I thought about what he was saying. “Let go? Easy for you to say.”
He smiled and picked up a brush, holding it out to me. “Close your eyes. Trust your instincts.”
I was still a little timid, then took up the brush, closed my eyes, and let all those memories, everything I had been keeping inside, just wash over me, and my emotions came out in the paintings. My strokes were freer and more fluid.
“Good,” Max’s voice was low, like a murmur. “Just like that.”
The time just forgotten, lost in the process. I opened my eyes again to be startled with the picture I was viewing. This sky, which had been nagging me so much, felt alive, emotional.
“It’s beautiful,” Max said, admiring his voice.
I smiled, feeling fulfilled. “Thanks, Max. I couldn’t have done it without you.
He took another step closer, his eyes blazing. “You have such a gift, Megan. Don’t ever doubt that.”
And our eyes just met, and in that moment, something strange happened-something deeper than artistic convergence. I felt awkward, so I broke my gaze.
“Want to take a break?” I said, needing a little space.
Max nodded. His intuition kicked in. “Sure. Want to get another cup of coffee?
“Actually, I feel a bit faint and need some fresh air,” I lied and made my way toward the door.
The city was alive, alive with movement. I inhaled deeply, trying to cleanse my thoughts. The words of Chris replayed again, and I knew I needed to speak with him, to reassure him.
I found Chris a couple blocks away, sitting on a bench, in a reflective pose. He looked up as I approached and touched his lips with a smile.
“Hey,” I said, taking a seat beside him. “Can we talk?”
“Of course,” he said, gazing into my eyes.
I took a deep breath, trying to think through my words. “Chris, I know that this has been hard for you. And I am so sorry if I have made you feel that you are not important.
He shook his head. “It’s not that, Megan. I just… I see how you and Max connect, and it worries me.”
I then took his hand in mine. “Max is just a friend. He helps me with my art, but nothing else. You’re the one that I love, Chris. You’re whom I want to be with.”
His eyes softened at that and squeezed my hand. “I love you too, Megan. I just needed to hear you say it.”
“I’m telling you now,” I said then, going forward to kiss him very softly.
Sweet, the kiss sealed our bond once again. When we pulled back, Chris seemed more at ease.
“Thank you,” he said softly, “for being honest with me.”
“Always,” I replied, feeling a weight off my shoulders.
We just sat there for some time, enjoying each other’s company. The hum and the buzz of the city swirled around us, yet it seemed that we were in our very own world.
We went back into the studio eventually. Max was still there, working on his piece. His face was unreadable as he looked up to our entry.
“Everything okay?” he asked, casual in tone.
“Yeah,” I said, smiling. “Everything’s good.
Chris nodded in agreement. “We just needed to talk some things out.”
Max smiled, but something crossed his eyes. “Glad to hear it.”
We spent the rest of the day working in easy silence, lost in the various projects each of us was doing. The studio was filled with harmony-that sense that despite battles, all of us were moving forward.
The sun began to set, filling the room with a golden light, so I looked around at everything with feelings of peace. My painting was going great; things with Chris could not be better; even my friendship with Max started to make some sense.
“Hey, guys,” I said, breaking the complete and utter silence. “Thank you. For everything.”
Chris and Max both looked up in surprise.
“What for?” Chris asked, his lips curling into a little smile.
“For being here,” I said simply. “For supporting me and helping me find my way.”
Max nodded, his expression warm. “Anytime, Megan. We’re in this together.”
Chris reached out, taking my hand. “Always.”