Perspective (Love in LA Book 1) by Jenna Hartley

Author:Jenna Hartley [Hartley, Jenna]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2020-06-10T16:00:00+00:00

I woke up, feeling refreshed, rejuvenated. I rolled out of bed and stretched my arms overhead, staring out the window as I thought back on last night and the nights that had come before. Another night of drawing with Kate, of feeling her every movement, every sigh.

Drawing with Kate was so…freeing. I hadn’t associated that word with my art maybe ever. At least, not since I was a child. Not since before there’d been pressure to live up to my talent.

But for the first time in my career—the first time since my accident—I felt…hopeful, light. And it was all because of Kate.

I pulled on some sweat pants and gently stretched my wrist. Nothing had changed physically, but I felt different. I still couldn’t stretch it back as far as I wanted or needed, but it didn’t bother me as much as it had. It was like seeing things through Kate’s eyes had given me a whole new perspective.

I headed downstairs, intent on the kitchen. I smiled as I passed behind the easel, no longer dreading the prospect of drawing.

My phone rang, and Theo’s name flashed across the screen. I held the phone to my ear. “Good morning.”

“Xander?” I could imagine his expression—brow furrowed.

“Yeah?” I chuckled, still riding the high from last night. “What’s up?”

“Is this Alexander Kline?” he asked in all seriousness, which only made me laugh harder.

“Is this Theodore Kline?” I asked, affecting my best impression of him.

Silence.

Then, “Did you… Were you visited by aliens last night? Because you never sound this—I don’t know—cheerful.”

“No alien visitation.” I grabbed a coffee mug, sliding it beneath the machine before pressing the button to make an espresso.

Though, perhaps an angel, I thought, picturing Kate’s halo of golden hair and easy smiles. She was like a balm to my soul. Her lyrical voice, her graceful movements, everything about her was soothing.

He cleared his throat. “Hm. Okay.”

“But I do have the start of something.” I leaned my hip against the counter, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing.

“You do? That’s fantastic! That’s actually what I was calling to talk to you about.” I didn’t like the heavy sigh that followed. “The gallery is pressuring me for details about your upcoming exhibit. They need dimensions and information about your work so they can paint the walls and determine any equipment they might need.”

“Can you stall?”

“What do you think I’ve been doing all this time?” he asked. “How does the new stuff look?”

When the espresso maker hissed, I grabbed the mug and padded across the floor to the easel. I set down the mug, taking a moment to evaluate the piece. My knee-jerk reaction was that it was shit. But I tried to consider what Kate would say.

I shook my head. Nope—still looked like shit. In the cold light of the morning, I realized that it was clumsily done, the strokes crude and like those of an unpracticed amateur. The abstract nature of it was so out of my norm, it made my skin itch. And I couldn’t imagine ever displaying something so…hideous at a gallery.

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