Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Charlie

“ L et’s pop into town now,” I suggested to Bess as soon as we stepped outside of the studio. “We can get you that swimsuit and make it back before dinner.”

The afternoon class had just finished.

Bess smoothed her black jersey, which she’d somehow kept tidy where mine was covered in splatter after exploring acrylics. Her eyes widened with alarm, flicking to the left and right to make sure nobody could overhear us. “Maybe you can tell everyone I wasn’t feeling well so I decided to go to bed early or something. Tell them I really wanted to come but I didn’t want to get everyone else sick in case I was coming down with something.” Her earnest eyes blinked at me, pleading and hopeful.

I took a deep breath, gathering my thoughts. Everything she said made sense. It always did. But I didn’t want an excuse. I wanted to take her to that hot tub under the stars. I’d seen her eyes light up at the mention of it.

“Do you really want to add fake illness to the list of things you’re faking?” I asked.

She halted. “Um…”

“And do you actually want to skip the one thing in this place that doesn’t involve any exercises or confusing metaphors? Just your cold body surrounded by hot water and a sky full of stars winking at you?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You sell these tubs or something?”

“You know I could.” I grinned, but the thought of advertising made familiar frustrations bubble up. “I’ll sell anything. Anything other than that financial literacy program.”

I opened the front door for her, and we stepped into the crisp air.

“It’ll come to you,” she said in a soothing tone. “Just focus on the pinecones.”

She masked the sarcasm so well it took me a moment.

I laughed. “I’ve never paid any attention to pinecones. Are there like lots of different kinds? Is this a good season for them?”

Bess smiled. “You mean, are we having a good pinecone year? No idea. Let’s investigate your million-dollar material, shall we?” She led us towards the closest evergreens behind the main building.

We scanned the ground until Bess spotted the first pinecone, picking it up. “This one’s pretty. It’s open on one side. Great for inserting stick legs. I think they open quicker if you put them in the oven.”

“I should create a giant petting zoo full of pinecone animals, for everyone’s amusement.”

“Why not? I don’t think it really matters what we do with these exercises. As long as we focus on the task and let our minds wander or something. Tap into the divine.”

“Do you believe that?” I asked. “I always thought of you as… I don’t know… evidence-based?”

She crunched up her nose adorably. “Evidence-based? Can you even say that about a person? It makes me sound like a government program.”

“Or like a financial literacy program?” I crouched down to pick up another pinecone. A bigger one.

“You can’t get your mind off that job, can you?”

I winced, focusing my energy on the ground. “It’s hard to switch off.”

In all honesty, it had been easy in the past. But the stakes had never been this high.

Bess had already found a handful of cones and was using the hem of her jersey to store them. We hadn’t put on our jackets, intending only to cross the path from the main building to the cabin, and the cold was starting to penetrate my thermal Henley.

Bess rubbed her hands together to warm them up. “What if the campaign isn't flawed, but rather, we need to convey the message when people feel more hopeful, relaxed, and optimistic about their future? Like, on their payday? Or when they get tax returns?”

My hand froze mid-air, a pinecone dangling from my fingers. “You might be right. Why did I not think of that?”

“Because you don’t live from paycheck to paycheck?” she replied dryly, picking up another cone.

“You don’t have to pick up cones for me. Focus on your own assignment. Leaves?”

She looked up at me, a little startled. “Oh. Yeah.”

Was she so used to doing my bidding she didn’t even consider her own creative challenge?

“What are you going to use for storing them? I know she said bags, but leaves are fragile.”

She hugged herself, rubbing her arms. “I don’t even have a bag. I was going to take a look at their recycling bin. If I find a good box, I’ll grab that.”

I stopped myself just in time. She’d already caught me flying my privilege flag. I wasn’t going to do it again by throwing money at a problem. “That’s a good idea. But also… I brought a pair of shoes that are still in the box. You can have the box if you want? And speaking of shopping, shall we get that bikini for you?”

“Swimsuit,” she corrected.

“Worth a shot.” I grinned and she relaxed, giving me a reproaching glare as she flicked a pinecone at me. It hit my leg, delivering no pain.

“Trust me, this is awkward enough.”

“Why?” I threw out my arms. “We’re friends. Colleagues. Designers… with eyes.”

“So you’re coming to give me your artistic opinion? What happened to you driving me there and handing me a credit card?”

I shrugged, slowly and exaggeratedly. “I mean… if that’s what you want. But you can also think of me as a friend. A gay friend if that makes you more comfortable. I’m great at picking out clothes.”

“Great. Except… are you gay?”

I sighed. “I’ll stare at your boobs and ass the whole time. So… no.”

She rewarded my honesty with a huff and a smile. “Okay, I’m freezing now. To the point that I’ll go anywhere with you if your car has a heater.”

I gestured at the parking lot, excitement building in my chest like silent laughter. I was winning. “How about a seat warmer?”

Her eye roll was undermined by a brewing smile. “Well, that’s just excessive.”