So Damn Beautiful (A New Adult Romance) (15 page)

Elsie perked up at that point. “In case
anyone’s interested, I know a whole crew of street artists right
here in Midtown—they were even invited to do murals at the White
House.” She looked pleased as punch, which made me want to punch
her.

Claudia, however, wasn’t taken with Elsie’s
suggestion. “I wouldn’t exactly call our government an arbiter of
good taste. Our street artist shouldn’t be someone who’s getting
accolades only from the higher-ups—he or she should be someone who
is destined to take the world by storm, to topple our ideas of what
art constitutes. We want someone who’s making waves out there but
who also remains true to the lexicon and imagery of the
streets—which won’t necessarily be immediately accepted by the more
conservative contingents or adhere to some kind of paint-by-numbers
schematic.”

Elsie didn’t have an immediate comeback,
which made me realize right then and there that she didn’t know the
first thing about the hazy lines between the world of the gallery
and the world of street art, which I’d absorbed from Chase. For
Elsie, a mural was just as good as street art—but now I knew that
simply wasn’t true. Street art was something that was almost viral,
that got under your skin.

That’s when I blurted out, “Well, I
do
have a plan B, of course. Chase Adams is totally on board—he’s the
artist who’ll be doing the piece I’m commissioning.”

At first, everyone was speechless (which made
me realize they knew
exactly
who Chase Adams was).

“Annie, that’s . . . incredible!” Claudia
exclaimed, typing furiously on her laptop. “Why the hell didn’t you
say so in the first place? Quentin is definitely going to be
ecstatic about this.”

“Well, uh, you know—I was thinking of other
alternatives, but yeah, for sure, he’s a definite yes,” I said.

“Way to go, Annie—that guy’s stuff is killer,
completely out of this world.” Shawn, who was usually pretty quiet,
was suddenly quite animated. “His color scheme, his incorporation
of unique characters, his sense of restraint paired with his
incredible technical detail and massive scale . . . this guy is an
innovator!”

I smiled, despite the fact that I had no idea
how I was going to back up my lie. “Thanks, Shawn. I love his work,
too,” I said, a tad too enthusiastically to mask the panic
descending on me.

Hayden became uncharacteristically antsy. “Is
he, um, going to come to any of our meetings? I’ve always sort of
wanted to meet him.”

“I don’t know, but I can definitely ask
him.”

Claudia interjected at that point. “So, did
you two come up with a specific plan regarding what he’s going to
do? Remember, it needs to tie into the overall theme of New
York—what it means to live, love, work, and play here.”

I almost slapped my palm to my forehead.
This is why my mother always warns me about telling lies—because
one always leads right into the next.
“Um, well, as you
probably know, Chase is a little . . . free-spirited when it comes
to his work. He wouldn’t tell me what he was making, but he assured
me it would be apropos of the, er, theme.”

Claudia just shrugged. “That’s fine by me, as
long as we know he’s the one. But we need to have a concrete plan
in the next couple weeks, okay?”

I nodded, my heart pounding. How the hell was
I going to get out of this?

At that point, Elsie, who’d been silent
during the round of excited congratulations, piped up. “Okay,
there’s just one thing I’m not understanding. My parents are on the
boards of galleries who’ve been courting Chase Adams since he was a
teenager. Why in the world would he say yes to your invitation and
not to theirs?”

I had to admit, I was gloating a bit over
Elsie’s disbelief. She had every reason to think I was lying, but
her reasons were completely off the mark, considering Chase’s
contempt for fancy SoHo galleries. I flashed her a dazzling smile
and replied, “I guess he just can’t say no to a blonde.”

“Well, ladies and gentleman, you have your
work cut out for you. If Chase Adams is with us, you can bet this
is going to be a gala event—he’s going to be just the thing we need
to widen our target audience and bring in the folks who couldn’t
give two shits about art,” Claudia said, snapping her laptop shut.
“By the way, Quentin approves—very, very highly.” She turned to me
and gave me a thumbs-up, which made Elsie cross her arms and
tighten her jaw.

For the time being, the heat was off. But the
more I thought about it, the more I was terrified about the giant,
gaping hole I’d just dug for myself. Although nobody but Elsie had
really questioned me, Chase had way too much pride to say yes to
this kind of project—especially considering his flagging respect
for Quentin Pierce. Besides, he was probably just as tired of our
run-ins with each other as I was. And did I even want to talk to
him after what had happened with him and his loser friends?

He might be a world-class jerk, Annie,
but, once again, he’s all you have as far as this project goes
,
I reminded myself.

It was too late to turn back, anyhow. I’d
made my bed and I’d have to lie in it, even if it was going to be
alongside a dirty dog like Chase.

It was a beautiful Wednesday afternoon, and Kendra and I,
accompanied by a shy but friendly Yannis, were in summery garb as
we sat alongside the Passaic River in northern New Jersey. Today,
Harrison and the crew team were racing the rival team at Fordham
University, and it couldn’t have been a better day for a
competition. On my end, I was tired of obsessing over my
as-yet-nonexistent project for Quentin Pierce, so when Harrison had
texted to ask if I wanted to come see him race, I had been all for
it.

Correction: Kendra had been all for it.

“Girl, you know we have to drive to Jersey to
get there, right? He wouldn’t be asking you if it wasn’t important
to him, which means he’s totally into you,” Kendra insisted.

I smiled at her. “We? You driving?”

Neither of us had a car, but, given the fact
that she and Yannis had hit it off after their first date, he had
graciously volunteered to be our chauffeur. As Kendra prattled on
in the car about clothes and movies, I wondered how, exactly, she
and Yannis had become an item. They were inseparable these days,
but for the life of me, I couldn’t see what they had in common.
While Kendra could talk a mile a minute, Yannis seemed content to
listen. I wasn’t complaining, though—despite his faltering English,
I could tell he was a soulful guy. He was beautiful and exotic,
just like Kendra. With his dark curls and lanky frame, he reminded
me of the figures on Grecian busts and statues. I knew that his
family had some kind of jewelry business and that he was a year
ahead of Kendra and me, but that he also had a tendency to skip
class.

“He’s not really into school,” Kendra had
explained to me without a trace of judgment in her voice. “His
passion is horses.”

“Horses?” I’d asked, wondering where the
closest stable to NYU could be.

“Yup,” she’d said without blinking. “He likes
to ride horses, and I like to ride him—it’s a passion we can
share.”

I was happy my friend was finally getting
some action, with a guy who appeared to be as sweet and patient as
he was gorgeous.

The Passaic River was nice enough, sweeping
from the urbanized areas of Newark to wide swaths of forest and
meadows. We were close to the finish line, along with a cluster of
sixty or seventy others—mostly parents and other NYU students, from
the looks of it—waiting for our first glimpse of the rowers who
were already racing. From what Kendra had told me, a crew regatta
usually took less than ten minutes. As we stood with our binoculars
(which Kendra had insisted we purchase), drinking iced coffee, I
watched both teams dip their oars in the water—pushing their torsos
forward and pulling the oars back toward them. It looked both
mesmerizing and exhausting. I could see Harrison sitting at the
stern of the boat, directing all the other rowers. My chest swelled
with pride for him, especially given the fact that NYU appeared to
be kicking Fordham’s ass.

“Go, Bobcats!” Kendra screamed at the top of
her lungs.

“Babe, I think they call the sports teams
Violets,” Yannis said, draping an arm over her shoulder.

“Huh?” Kendra looked confused.

“He’s right, Ken,” I said. “Our mascot is the
bobcat, but we always refer to competitive sports teams as Violets
’cause of our school colors.”

Kendra rolled her eyes. “That’s so . . . not
competitive-sounding. What is this, a tea party or something?”

I held my breath as I looked through the
binoculars. I hadn’t seen any of the rowers, but I could tell they
were probably similar to Harrison: well muscled, tall, broad
shouldered, and superfit.

The boat glided easily toward us, leaving
Fordham in its wake. I’d never been all that excited about sports,
but I felt a flutter of joy as I jumped up and down and threw my
arms around both Kendra and Yannis.

A few minutes later, Harrison walked up to
us, looking as hot as ever in his long tank top and waterproof
shorts. I hugged him, while Kendra grabbed Yannis by the arm and
made for the food table, giving me a noticeable wink before jetting
off.

“You guys were amazing!” I exclaimed. “Your
control and precision were really impressive.”

He waved a hand modestly. “It’s all just
basic mechanics. Rotate the oar, release the blade, extend the
arms. It’s all about the basic rhythm.”

“Well, whatever it was, it’s definitely not
something I’d be capable of,” I said. “You were captivating out
there.”

He smiled. “Admit it—you just like the
outfit, huh?”

“Okay, you got me. I can’t resist a guy in
hot pants!”

He pretended to be offended. “Hot pants? I’ll
have you know these are athletic shorts.”

“Whatever you say.”

Harrison’s expression suddenly became
serious. “It means a lot to me that you’re here, Annie,” he said,
placing a hand gently on my shoulder.

“Was your victory entirely dependent on my
presence?” I quipped. “Because I think you would’ve done just fine
without me.”

He smiled. “No, it’s just that . . . I want
you to be around more often,” he said.

I raised an eyebrow. “Let me check my
schedule, and I’ll get back to you.”

“I mean it, Annie. As my girlfriend.”

My heart just about stopped right then and
there. I did a double take, expecting Harrison to crack up laughing
at any moment. But nothing of the sort happened. He looked almost
as eager as someone who’d gotten up the courage to propose
marriage. I had to admit that while I was a little confused (after
all, I was accustomed to the idea that guys kind of “grow into” a
relationship, rather than formalize it with a declaration of their
intent), I was strangely moved by the gesture.

All the same, I couldn’t stop myself from
blurting out, “Seriously?” and then covering my mouth in apology.
“I’m so flattered . . . but . . . are you sure?”

He took both my hands in his, which felt cool
and solid and certain. “Listen, Annie, I don’t know what’s going
through your mind right now, but I’ve loved spending time with you.
And, contrary to the way a lot of guys around here operate, I know
a good thing when I see it—and while I’m totally cool with taking
it slow, easing our way into this, not doing anything too hasty, I
don’t like to hedge my bets. This may sound silly, but I’ve been
looking for something special for a long time, and I’m pretty damn
certain that’s exactly what you are. I just don’t see any point
wasting my time on petty shit, when we’re both standing right
here.”

I felt tears rise to my eyes. I was somewhat
torn, not because I didn’t like Harrison, but because I wondered
how ready I was to get into a relationship at all. My mom’s words
about taking these years to focus on my life and what I wanted rang
like an alarm bell in my head. At the same time, Harrison didn’t
seem like the type of guy to derail my ambitions—clearly, that was
a big reason he was into me to begin with. When he could’ve chosen
any other girl on campus, picking a nobody like me seemed bold,
stupid . . . and undeniably sweet.

He looked at me expectantly. “So . . . what
do you say?”

I squeezed his hand. I was still a little in
shock, but when was another opportunity like this going to come my
way? Harrison was most people’s idea of the perfect guy: handsome,
smart, sweet, gentlemanly, and from the kind of family that would
probably be able to connect me to some very important people. I
winced at the idea that the last factor was even a consideration at
all, but if I were perfectly honest with myself, it wasn’t
something I could just pass up without taking a chance.

Besides, I could always change my mind . . .
right?

“Yes, Harrison, I would be honored to be your
girlfriend,” I said, attempting to keep a straight face when I said
it, since it seemed so formal.

He swept me up in a bear hug. I could feel
the eyes of his teammates and other onlookers on us both, and I
felt . . . lucky. I couldn’t wait to call my mom and tell her what
had happened. You’d think I had a ring on my finger, given the
palpitations of joy in my belly.

He held me for a long time, before an
impatient “ahem” interrupted us. Harrison put me down, and when I
turned around, there was Elsie, looking as bored and beautiful as
ever. Her hair was swept up away from her neck, long tendrils
hanging around her mannequin-pale face. She was dressed simply yet
stylishly in an oversize T-shirt, black skinny jeans, and a pair of
Miu Miu stiletto heels.

“Hey, Cuz,” Harrison said, stooping toward
her for an obligatory hug, kiss, and hair ruffle—which made her
squeal.

“You jerk. I just came by to tell you that
you guys kicked ass today. I couldn’t see for shit, as usual, but
those last two minutes were certainly suspense-filled,” she said
with a dose more pleasantness than usual . . . while conveniently
ignoring me.