Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Rose
"Thanks again for agreeing to this." Aria smiles at me gratefully, buttoning up her tan coat as we get ready to leave for our meeting with the set builder at Snug.
"It's fine, seriously. Maybe this is exactly what I need to get back into painting. Something completely different from my usual work where I'm not putting a ton of pressure on myself like you said. Well, some pressure because I don't want your set to suck, but you know what I mean." I wave a hand like I might somehow pull the right words to articulate my point out of thin air. Luckily I don't have to perform such a feat because my best friend just gets me.
"I understand and I hope trying something different helps. Either way I owe you so big for this."
I feel underprepared and don't really know what I'm doing but Aria assured me multiple times that the guy she hired will be able to handle all the actual building stuff on his own. At least the meeting is at my favourite coffee shop.
As soon as we walk through the door Violet greets us cheerily from where she's wiping down a table. "Girls! Lovely to see you again so soon. Is everything alright now?" When I'd paid on Sunday I explained to Violet why Aria left in such a hurry, since we always say goodbye or at least offer a quick wave when we leave. It's sweet of her to check in to see how it all turned out.
"We're all good," I answer. "Aria's roped me into designing the set for her new show. How's your day so far?"
"Better now the morning rush is over." She claps her hands together. "But tell me more about this set. This is for the show you told me about?"
"Yes, Rose is saving my skin and stepping in last-minute since the original designer dropped out. We're actually here to meet the guy who's going to build it."
"How exciting! Would you like me to whip up your usuals now or are you waiting for him to arrive?"
"We'll wait, thanks," Aria replies. "Excuse me for a minute, I need to use the ladies."
Violet nods then waits for her to be out of earshot before asking, "Are you sure you're ready for this?" Am I? Probably not, but it's been so long since I've created anything and I miss painting.
My art is the final missing piece I need to recover to finish putting myself back together after the break-up. Malcolm might be out of my life, but I still hear his criticism whenever I try to draft new concepts on my tablet, never mind when I think about actually painting. Over the year we spent together he did a lot to knock my confidence, starting small until I'd been broken down to almost nothing before realising the mess I'd got myself into. He had never taken my work seriously even though it was my main source of income, something not every artist was lucky enough to manage.
It took a long time for me to realise that his behaviour was never even really about me. Malcolm is the kind of person who needs to put others down to make himself feel better, which meant none of my achievements would have ever been enough in his eyes. The revelation that his opinion only mattered if I allowed it to had been freeing. Yet I'm still struggling to rekindle my creative spark. Doing this set design project for Aria could turn out to be exactly what I need to change that.
Violet clears her throat and I realise I've taken too long to respond.
"Yeah." I clear my throat. "Yes, I think it will be good for me to try something new."
"Alright then." She smiles, nodding approvingly. Another customer wanders up to the counter, sending Violet rushing back to work now she knows I'm not being pressured into something I'm not comfortable with. Bolstered by her approval, I move away from the door and take a seat in our usual spot.
Just as I'm about to start playing around on my phone while I wait for Aria to get back, the little bell over the coffee shop door rings capturing my attention.
Oh shit .
The world seems to slow down around me. Chatter from the other customers fades into the background, the rapid pounding of my heartbeat all I can hear, as my focus narrows down onto someone I didn't think I would see again stepping across the threshold of my cosy sanctuary.
Gripping my bag tighter to my chest, I close my eyes and force out a slow breath, praying someone else will be standing there when I reopen them. My nerves over this meeting must have my mind playing tricks on me because there is no way he can be here right now. Reopening my eyes I'm once again hit by the sight of the same handsome face, no mind-tricks at play. Why?
I've never seen this man before and now two run-ins so close together, seriously ? I slide lower in my chair, ducking my head and praying he doesn't notice me. Please be here for a take away drink . I cannot cope with the residual embarrassment of Saturday night encroaching on the sanctity of my favourite coffee shop. If I have to do this meeting knowing he's somewhere in the room and could spot me at any time the stress may kill me.
The man I've dubbed mint-choc-chip-guy in my mind turns his head, looking around as if he's meeting someone, and I hide behind the curtain of my hair, pretending to focus intently on my phone. A bright smile lights up his face when he spots whoever he's looking for and dammit if he's not just as attractive as I remembered. Aria steps out of the short corridor leading back into the main seating area at the same time and I watch with mounting horror when, instead of walking back to our table, she heads right for him and offers her hand for him to shake. No .
"Fuck," I whisper involuntarily, staring as they approach our table. Biting back a hysterical bubble of laughter, I curse my past self. This can not be happening, and yet, it is. For a split-second, I debate making a run for it before realising how ridiculous that would be. Plus, I have a strong policy against running anywhere unless my life is in immediate danger. While this morning has turned into an absolute horror show, I doubt an axe-murderer is about to start chasing me down. Although, at this point, I'd rather take my chances with that than face mint-choc-chip-guy again, let alone work with him.
This is for Aria. Unable to put it off any longer, I take a deep breath, straighten up, and paste on a smile, ready to face my doom.
When they reach the table, I watch as his expression morphs from a polite smile, to surprise, to what can only be described as a fiendish grin. Here we go . Barely able to contain the groan that wants to escape me, I immediately regret the decision not to run away. I could learn to love cardio if it meant avoiding situations like this. I wipe my hands on my trousers as discreetly as possible, which is not very since they're both standing right there . That damn grin of his spells trouble and I just know he's not going to make this easy for me.
Frustratingly he looks just as good as he did Saturday night, better even. Dark blue jeans brush the tops of his smart, tan leather boots and hug his long legs. The peacock-blue jumper underneath his short, charcoal wool coat brings out the blue of his eyes perfectly. He is the embodiment of smart-casual.
A quick glance at Aria tells me she's unaware of the joke the universe is currently playing on me. Of all the handymen in the city, she had to hire the one I'd made a fool of myself in front of. So much for this project being low-pressure .
"Rose, this is Phillip," Aria begins, oblivious to the uncomfortable tension now simmering between us. "He'll be in charge of building the set. Phillip, this is my colleague and friend, Rose. She was kind enough to step in on short-notice to take care of designing and painting."
Bracing myself for the worst, I reach across the low coffee table between us, offering my hand in greeting. Before I can begin to formulate another apology, his large, calloused, palm envelops mine and my throat dries up.
"Good to meet you," mint-choc-chip-guy, Phillip , greets me, while my brain reboots from the short-circuit his touch caused.
Why is he acting like we've never met? Not that I'm ungrateful for the reprieve, but his devilish grin when he recognised me promised some merciless teasing. This seemingly good-natured approach is not to be trusted. He probably just wants to seem professional in front of Aria before getting payback later.
Realising I've been holding his hand too long, I quickly release my grip and mumble, "You too."
"Phillip, why don't you sit down and I'll go order us all a drink. What do you want?"
"Oh, er, cappuccino but I can get?—"
"My meeting, my treat." Aria waves him off with a manicured hand.
"Appreciate it," he responds with a bob of his head.
Phillip takes a seat in the sapphire-blue chair across from me and a weighty silence settles between us. A soft sigh escapes me. The man is so handsome that even the furniture complements his eyes, dammit.
Busy doing my best impersonation of someone fascinated by the grain of the walnut tabletop, I jump when he clears his throat.
Leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees he asks, "So, you're an artist?" Small talk, really? I break my staring contest with the table to meet his gaze, determined to figure out what his game is and deal with whatever he decides to throw at me. No way will I let what happened on Saturday ruin this project for Aria.
"That's why I'm here." I shrug.
"You've designed sets before then?"
"Um, no." I squirm uncomfortably. "Like Aria said, her original designer fell through. She knows I've been taking a break from my usual artwork so she asked me to step in last-minute."
"That's nice of you." Must he sound quite so surprised by that? I can be nice, downright sunny , even. I hmm non-committedly in response and his lips twitch. "This will be a new experience for both of us then." He smiles like this is a fun bonding moment or something. My eyes narrow.
"What do you mean for both of us?" I ask, doing my best to keep my voice even despite my rising panic. "Aria said you had experience, that I wouldn't need to worry about the building part." This is not good. Not good at all. How will this work if we're both total newbies?
"You don't need to worry," he rushes to reassure me. "I've got enough experience with custom carpentry projects to figure it out, I just haven't actually built a set before, that's all I meant."
In a nervous habit I recognise from Saturday, he runs a hand through his chestnut-brown hair. There's a slight wave to the longer section on top that suggests he'd have proper curls if he grew it out.
"Oh. OK then, if you're sure." The balloon of stress building in my chest deflates with his reassurance. Phillip smiles confidently in response and while it could be false bravado that will land us in trouble if he screws up, something about his relaxed demeanour puts me at ease. He has the kind of confidence that's hard-earned, not some showy fa?ade. It makes me feel guilty for judging him before when I really should be trying to smooth things over if we're stuck working together.
"About Saturday," I begin, needing to address the elephant in the room before Aria comes back. "I really am sorry for, you know, yelling at you." I grimace and tug the sleeves of my jumper further down my hands, fiddling with the seams.
"Don't mention it." He waves a hand, my outburst already forgotten. "We've all had crappy days, just happens we met on one of yours." He shrugs like there's nothing more to it. If he was any more laid back, he'd be horizontal. An image of him sprawled out in bed flits across my mind and I force the inappropriate thought out right away. No fantasising about my new colleague . Besides, nobody is really this chilled. I need to figure out what his angle is before it comes back to bite me in the butt.
"Well then, thanks, I guess." Shifting in my seat, I decide to ask the question that has been bugging me since he sat down. "Not that I don't appreciate it, but why didn't you say anything to Aria?" That damn grin is back. So are my heart palpitations. Totally unrelated, of course.
"I'll admit, I was surprised to see you. But since we're going to be working together, I want us to get off on the right foot. I figured you wouldn't want to explain to your boss how we met, even if the two of you are friends." He shrugs, relaxing back into his chair.
"Thanks, I appreciate that." Offering him a sheepish smile I continue, "I was actually going to tell her about the whole thing but then the original designer called to cancel and I haven't had the chance since. I'll get round to it eventually. It is my duty as best friend to provide her with laughs at my expense, but I appreciate the opportunity to do it in my own time. Maybe when we get home after this." I shrug, feigning nonchalance I do not feel.
"You live together?"
"Yeah," I answer with a more genuine, if small, smile. "We've been flatmates since uni."
"You've known each other a long time then."
"Not that long." I feign offence.
"Oh, no. I didn't mean?—"
"I'm just messing with you."
His shoulders sag with relief and he shakes his head at himself.
"Of course you are." What was that supposed to mean? Before I can put my foot in my mouth again, Aria reappears.
"You two already discussing the project?" She settles into the chair next to Phillip.
"Just getting to know each other," Phillip answers with a pleasant smile. It's not the smile I've already come to expect from him. This one is too polite, lacking any mischief. I don't like it.
"Alright, our order will be over in a minute. Why don't I start talking both of you through the details of the project and the timeframe while we wait?"
I'm not sure how much she and Phillip have already discussed, so this seems like a good way to make sure we're all on the same page. While I already know what the show is about, I have no idea what timeframe she gave the previous artist. Probably should have asked about that before agreeing to help. All I know is Aria has already set up a handful of bookings for the Spring term and wants time for the performers to rehearse with the sets before then.
As Aria breaks down the timeframe, I start to panic. Violet brought over our drinks and some muffins, and the few bites I've had now sit like rocks in my stomach. Despite living with me for years, she clearly hasn't considered how long paint takes to dry. While it's doable, the deadline is tighter than I'd like, especially since I can never predict when I may have a flare-up. I prefer blocking out a slightly bigger window for projects than I might actually need—customers don't get mad when things are finished early but they sure let you have it if you're behind schedule. Phillip smiles and nods along, asking a few questions here and there, shooting concerned glances my way when I remain suspiciously silent.
"How does that sound?" Aria asks, done with the project breakdown. While I don't love the tight deadline, it's not impossible. With Phillip and me working together we should be able to manage as long as he's capable of being a team player. When my options are either telling Aria the deadline's too short and spoiling her business plans or buckling down and working as hard as I can for the next few weeks, there's really no choice at all. Aria's worked incredibly hard to make Dreamer Entertainment a success and she's always been there for me. Now it's my turn to be there for her.
"Sounds like we'd better get started," I announce with confidence I absolutely do not feel.
"Can't wait." Phillip grins broadly. Aria cocks her head, trying to figure out what's going on between us but I keep my expression innocent. I'll tell her everything later, she doesn't need to worry about it right now.
"I guess we're done here." Aria smiles brightly. "Phillip, it was nice meeting you." They both stand and she reaches over to shake his hand again before heading towards the door. I offer Phillip an awkward parting bob of my head which he returns, then I catch up with Aria.
"Oh, hang on a sec," I tell her, walking back to our table where Phillip is putting on his coat. "We should exchange numbers so we can plan next steps."
Phillip
Thrown off-balance by running into Rose again, never mind the revelation that she's the artist I'll be working with, I watch in stunned silence as she leaves. Pretending I'm not staring after her becomes impossible when she suddenly turns back towards me. Leaving Aria by the door, Rose marches over and announces we should swap numbers.
Usually a gorgeous woman asking for my phone number would be cause for celebration, but Rose looks like she'd rather take a bath with eels than spend another minute in my presence. For a moment I simply stand there, staring like an idiot, the symphony of milk frothing, coffee beans grinding, and the gentle hum of conversation from the other customers the only sounds infiltrating the silence between us. She looks at me expectantly, and instead of answering like a normal person, I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.
"You don't really want to be here, do you?" Rose's already stiff posture tenses even further and I panic, thinking I've made matters ten times worse. Mind racing to come up with something, anything , else to say before we reach new heights of awkwardness, I'm saved from my own idiocy when she releases a long sigh, shoulders drooping in defeat. Something tightens in my chest over seeing her this way. The realisation I'd rather have her yell at me again than fold in on herself like this rocks me. I shouldn't be having these kinds of thoughts about a woman I just met. Before my eyes, she reinforces her shield, straightening up and locking her gaze with mine.
At a glance, Rose may seem soft and approachable with her gently cascading curls and jade-green eyes, but behind the plump bow of her pink lips there's one heck of a bite. There is a lot more to Rose than first meets the eye, that's for sure. I only hope she doesn't bring out her thorns when she realises I'm not looking away.
"It's not that." She takes a seat and I follow suit. "I just… the deadline makes me a little nervous. It is a pretty big job and neither of us really knows what we're doing." A wry laugh escapes her and, even though it's self-deprecating, her small smile steals my breath. Momentarily stunned, I watch her fiddle with the sleeves of her jumper, a nervous habit of hers I noticed during the meeting.
"I'm not entirely clueless you know," I reply with a teasing grin. "Like I said before, I've built plenty of custom furniture alongside my other building work. Aria explained to me what she needs for the set before today and I promise it's nothing I can't handle. You focus on the design and I'll make sure to keep it practical so we're not biting off more than we can chew, alright?" Eric tells me I excel at giving pep-talks. I've always laughed him off, assuming he's poking fun at me, such is his right as older brother. Watching the lines between Rose's brows smooth away, it seems like there may be some truth to his words after all.
"Are you for real?" She shakes her head. "Sorry, that was rude. I didn't mean—" She takes a breath and tries again. "I'm just not used to people being so… nice ." She says nice like it's an unfamiliar concept. Who the hell isn't being nice to her?
"People aren't nice to you? I find that hard to believe."
She snorts and her blush over the undignified sound is too fucking cute. "That seems a little silly, I did yell at you when we first met," she teases, offering me my first glimpse of the real Rose behind the prickly curtain.
"True. But that's not who you really are, is it?" I hold her gaze until she looks away, shifting awkwardly in her seat.
"I don't know. Aren't we all the sum of our actions?"
"I guess that's true. Even then, I'd say you've got a lot going for you. Stepping up to help your friend even though you're nervous is no small thing."
"I'm not nervous."
I incline my head. "Cautious, then," I concede.
"That's fair." She shrugs. "Since Aria wants more than one set piece for the show, it's going to be a lot of work to get everything painted within the window she's given us."
"You don't seem like the type to shy away from hard work."
"I'm not," she snaps. Clearly I've struck a nerve, although I'm not sure why. There's obviously something about the words that set her off but no matter how curious I am, now is not the time to pry. The most important thing for the moment is getting this project off the ground.
"Alright." I clap my hands together, dispelling the tension. "Like you said, we're on a tight deadline so it's best we get started right away. Is a week enough time for you to come up with a couple of design options?" Rose swallows hard but nods.
"That's fine."
"Great," I reply with a tight smile, reaching into my rucksack for my diary. I brought it and a portfolio of my custom furniture work along just in case, but Aria said she had seen enough of my work at our first meeting. Still, better over prepared than caught unaware—something my parents had drilled into my older brother and me from a young age. Flipping to this week's spread I ask, "If you can email me your designs by the end of this week, I'll make a list of materials we'll need and we can go shopping for them on Monday if that works for you?" Rose pulls up the calendar app on her phone before confirming.
"That's fine." I'm starting to realise Rose is a woman of few words unless you've pissed her off. "Do you bake?" Confusion furrows my brow at her seemingly out of the blue question until I follow her gaze down to my diary.
"Oh, yeah, with my nephew. He added the cupcake stickers. Said a plain black diary was too boring."
"Cute." She rewards me with a small smile. Hopefully she'll go back to full sentences once we start work or it will be a long few weeks stuck together.
"Here." I offer her my phone. "Put your number and email in and I'll text you so you have mine too."
Our fingertips brush as the phone exchanges hands, and just like the other night, sparks shoot up my arm. Rose's breath hitches and I'm pleased to know I'm not the only one affected. The whir of the coffee grinder breaks whatever lusty spell we've fallen under and she snatches her hand away, quickly typing in her contact information before opting to place the phone on the table in front of me instead of risking further physical contact by handing it back. Disappointed, I pick up the phone and make sure her information is saved correctly before firing off a quick text so she has my contact details too.
While I am definitely intrigued by Rose, she doesn't seem to return that interest. There might be some attraction there but I don't think she's willing to do anything about it. It's important she feels safe with me so I need to stay professional. That doesn't mean I'm not hoping to grow on her over the course of the project.
"It was nice meeting you?—"
"This time?" she interrupts drily.
"Well, there wasn't any yelling so I'd call this meeting a success." I smirk. Usually I'd shake hands at the end of a meeting, but, after the tension ignited by a simple brush of our fingertips, minimal contact seems best. The last thing I want to do is make her uncomfortable. "See you soon," I tell her, hoisting my bag onto my shoulder.
"Yeah," she replies with a sharp bob of her head, picking up her bag.
I don't wait to walk her out, something my mother would scold me for. Instead, I leave, removing the risk of saying anything else that might derail our working relationship before it's truly begun.
With a jolt of surprise, I notice Aria sitting at the table closest to the door, watching me with a knowing smirk. I'd forgotten she was still here. I offer her a polite nod then head out into the early autumn chill. I'm looking forward to starting this project, perhaps more than I should be considering my new colleague is much more apprehensive. I'm just happy to be trying my hand at something new. My excitement only has a little to do with my beautiful, grumpy partner. Professional, I tell myself. I'm staying professional.