Ansley’s art exhibition had brought endless inspiration to me. I cooped myself up in the house to study the various techniques of painting, as well as to study some related information.
Right then, I earnestly hoped for a master’s guidance. Even though I could learn it all on my own, I knew that my learning process would be much accelerated if there was a master guiding me. It seemed like my Eastsummer trip was wasted though, and Crystal did not seem to appreciate it enough.
I stayed at home for three days, and my draft drawings were strewn across the floor. I drove myself to exhaustion and snuggled myself into the blanket to sleep. Christopher dragged me out of my blanket and dressed me up as he said, “Follow me.”
“Where are we going? I have new inspiration popping into my head today, and I’m not going to let it go to waste.” I rejected the man outright, knowing full well that my bloodshot eyes were quite scary.
“Fine. I’m going to go myself if you don’t feel like going then.” Christopher wiped my face and went to open the wardrobe. Just when I thought he was really going to leave me alone, he made his way over and draped a coat over me. Oblivious to what he was about to do, I yawned and was about to add a few strokes to my artwork yesterday. However, Christopher came over and slung me over his shoulder.
Stumped, I shouted, “What are you doing?”
“I’m heading out. It’s none of your business,” Christopher said impassively.
“Da*n it. I couldn’t care less if you’re going out. Why did you carry me on your shoulders though?”
Christopher did not pay heed to my protests and carried me to the car. He secured my seatbelts and stepped on the pedal. I was taken aback by the speed, and could not help but notice that his impetuous manner kind of resembled Sabrina sometimes.
“Where are you taking me?”
“To see someone very important,” he said.
I guessed that he was going to bring me to see his best friends but only realized that he was taking me to see two quite old friends instead. One was the famous painter, Spencer Lynch while the other one was the incredibly skilled painter, Remington Fowler.
“What are you getting at?” I pointed at the two and asked Christopher.
“You’re participating in an art exhibition soon, and is always yapping on about finding some seniors to guide you. I just think that these two are qualified to do so. Feel free to ask them any questions. Should they fail to answer you, then you just scold them.” Christopher wrapped his arms around himself in a domineering manner.
“Ha-ha.” I let out a dry chuckle, not at all amused by his suggestion. Did he just say that these two were just qualified? Was he oblivious to the fact that most people would be over the moon to be able to get the guidance of these two at the same time? I would not even dream of scolding them both.
“Greetings, Mr. Lynch and Mr. Fowler. It’s been a long time since we last met. Thank you for helping me out at the art exhibition last time. I haven’t been able to thank you guys enough as I’ve been occupied.” I walked over and greeted the two reputable painters.
However, I noticed that Spencer was not quite comfortable looking at me, and he did not even seem like he wanted to talk to me. Was Christopher certain that he had helped me?
“You’re most welcome, Ms. Tanner. I’ve always admired your artwork. Even though your sexual orientation is quite a mystery, and you seem to swing both ways, but I’m quite liberal in that aspect. Hence, I could understand and respect your ways. I just hope that you’re not the type to engage in messy romantic affairs,” Remington said as he shook my hand.
I almost choked on his words. What did he mean by my sexual orientation was a mystery? And what was up with him thinking that I was inclined to engage in messy romantic affairs? I’d only messed with Christopher, okay?
“Thank you, Mr. Fowler,” I said dryly. I did not know what else to say, to be honest.
Christopher chuckled out loud upon hearing what they had to say. He did not seem like he had any intention of clearing the air as he piled on deliberately and said, “Remington, don’t worry. She won’t dump me.”
When the two were not paying close attention, I took the liberty to step on Christopher’s toes, making him jump in pain.
Meanwhile, the two of them were discussing some golf techniques, and turned around to ask, “What’s the matter?”
“A mosquito bit me on my toes,” Christopher hugged his legs and joked.
