The Roommate Situation: A Romantic Comedy (Only in Atlanta Book 1) by Katie Bailey

Author:Katie Bailey [Bailey, Katie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Eleventh Avenue Publishing
Published: 2021-06-15T04:00:00+00:00

After Courtney goes home to attend to the loves of her life—Butch and Cassidy—I decide that there’s no time like the present to get to work on doing some painting. I’ve been putting it off for days now, battling with nagging self-doubt and thoughts of failure. I’ve conveniently used my staging books to procrastinate, telling myself that I was too busy reading to make any of my own art.

But the job with Conor is a one-off, temporary. I’m going to need further employment down the line, so I’ve got to bite the bullet sometime. I’ve decided to ease myself into creativity by doing a painting for Aiden. Something to thank him for letting me stay at his place rent-free. There’s a spot above the couch where I’d love to hang it.

I hum to myself as I retrieve the supplies I bought at a local art store and set myself up in the backyard—I’m not going to risk getting paint on the pristine floors of Aiden’s renovated house. I spread the dust sheet on the lawn and prop my canvas on a makeshift easel assembled from old plastic garden chairs I found in the shed. Obviously banished to exile after the patio makeover.

I’m still in my bathing suit, but as said bathing suit is an ancient and saggy purple one-piece that does nothing for my figure, I’m not too worried about getting paint on it. Besides, Courtney would be delighted for an excuse to take me bikini shopping. When I appeared outside to sunbathe with her earlier, I got a ten minute lecture about embracing my inner sex kitten and flaunting what the Good Lord gave me.

Pfft. Inner sex kitten, my butt. Try old, overweight, fleabitten tabby cat with half an ear missing.

Anyway, despite the innate unattractiveness of my bathing suit, I feel pretty secure in the fact that no one’s going to see me prancing around in the yard with my paint brushes. Courtney’s safely ensconced at home, Aiden is tucked away in LA, and Conor’s working late again today. I made sure to confirm over text.

Which means that it’s just me, my canvas, and, hopefully, inspiration.

I set out my paint brushes, mixing palette, and tubes of paint, and then put my headphones in. May as well bring out the old “Heartbreak Playlist Part 2”—the Taylor Swift edit.

With the bitter breakup sounds of “I Knew You Were Trouble” blasting in my ears, I circle the blank canvas, studying it. I nod to myself, my adrenaline building as creativity starts to flow through my veins like a drug. It’s been too long since I painted, and now that I’ve worked myself up to this moment, excitement vibrates through me.

I’ve missed this.

I seize my paint brush, splash dollops of seafoam green, burnt ochre and navy onto my palette, and get to work.

Something funny happens when you get lost in creating. It’s like your mind and body become one, moving in tandem to chase a vision. You make something conceptual become tangible before your very eyes.

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