Iris (The Casanova Club Book 17) by Ali Parker

Author:Ali Parker [Parker, Ali]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BrixBaxter Publishing
Published: 2021-03-23T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 14

Iris

The fluorescent lights in the studio and the smells of everyone’s paint did not help my hangover.

I lifted my brush from the canvas and clutched one hand to my stomach as my insides rolled. The room tipped over, and for a paralyzing moment, I thought I might be sick right then and there. I looked wildly around for the nearest trashcan, spotted one beside my professor’s desk, and estimated it would take me approximately six strides to reach it in case of an emergency.

Please don’t puke, please don’t puke, please don’t puke.

I’d been here for all of one hour and the passing minutes only made me feel worse.

If I hadn’t slept in at Joshua’s and left at a reasonable time, I might have been able to avoid that. An earlier departure would have given me time to take a hot shower and get some food in my stomach. All I’d managed to get down were a couple sips of water. I knew I was dehydrated, which certainly wasn’t making me feel any better, but I worried if I tried to put anything in my stomach right now, it would just come shooting back up.

The wave of nausea passed.

I exhaled slowly, pressed my brush back to the canvas, and continued layering the grass to create more depth. In my mind’s eye, my goal for the painting was for the old house to look far away and just out of reach. I knew if I focused on the foreground I could achieve what I wanted, and if people took the time to look closely, they would see that the details of the house were just as sharp as the details of the closest blades of grass to the edge of the canvas.

“Iris, you don’t look so hot. Maybe you should sit down?”

I didn’t need to look over my shoulder to know who the voice belonged to. Brynn Dailey had been hovering around my project all morning. She’d all but finished her own and taken to strolling through the studio, inspecting other people’s work and offering to help them. Her help often came with the expectation of a return, of course. Somewhere down the line, she’d ask you for something, remind you how she’d been there when you needed her, and suck you into doing something you wouldn’t normally do.

Not me. Nuh uh. I wasn’t playing those games with her.

“I’m fine,” I said.

“You look pale. Can I get you a cup of tea or something?”

“No thank you.”

I hated how good a cup of warm tea sounded. I’d want an English breakfast tea to be sure, with one teaspoon of sugar and a splash of milk. Yes, that sounded lovely, and it didn’t make my stomach tighten to think about it.

Brynn dragged a stool over and plopped down on it beside me. “It’s coming along nicely. Your mural, I mean. I really didn’t think you’d stand a chance of getting it done on time. Those six hours you put in the other day sure took it from drab to fab pretty quick, hey?”

I shot her a side-eyed look.

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