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Ex-Friends
Last Updated:
2025-04-15 22:30:30
Latest chapter
A Sketch Away From Perfect She Has to Chose
*Harper*The studio is packed, with dozens of people filtering in and out, drinking champagne, admiring the work, and talking in hushed tones. McKenzy stands beside me, her eyes wide as she watches a well-dressed couple argue over who gets to buy one of her handmade pieces. Across the room, a small cluster of critics and collectors linger in front of one of my paintings, nodding thoughtfully. I feel like I might burst into a thousand bright, brilliant colors all over one of my canvases. After weeks of planning and stressing, we’re watching our dreams come true in real time.Damien, true to his word, has invited half the city… the important half, at that, the art world elite, the socialites, the people with bottomless bank accounts and a thirst for status are walking around our space, bidding for our work. I exhale, trying to ground myself, but McKenzy grabs my arm, squeezing hard.“Harper,” she whispers, “Michael Fucking Vernon is here.”I blink at her, confused for half a second bef
A Sketch Away From Perfect A Swift Kick to the Nuts
*Harper*I tell myself I’m being dramatic, but even as I try to talk myself down, my hands tremble where they rest on my lap. The air in the private box feels too still, like the whole stadium is holding its breath right along with me.I hate that my brain goes right to Jeff McNaught. I know he’s not supposed to be here. He’s suspended, kicked off the premises, and if he so much as buys a hot dog from a vendor outside the stadium, someone will recognize him.But logic doesn’t help. Maybe it’s just PTSD, but I’d clocked Jeff as a sleaze the second I met him, and he’s done nothing to help that. Our last encounter really left me shaken, and I’m genuinely terrified of facing him again.As long as the door stays closed, I tell myself I’m safe, even though the game has just ended. Thankfully, the 49ers won. I should go down to greet Rafe, but I decide to stay here and wait for Damien so I’m not navigating the stadium on my own.More than anything, I’m pissed at Damien for leaving me when he
A Sketch Away From Perfect Old Anxiety
*Damien*Harper sits across from me on the jet, barefoot, her legs tucked up under her like we’re on her beat-up couch instead of a leather seat that probably cost more than her apartment. She fits in my world about as well as a paint-splattered easel in a corporate boardroom, yet I still find her absolutely irresistible. I love the way she cracks me open, lets in sunlight where there used to be nothing but polished surface and empty space.She catches me staring and grins, her hair a messy halo around her face. “What? Did I spill soy sauce on my shirt again?”“No.” I sip my scotch, savoring the burn, the way it sharpens my focus. “I’m just admiring the view.”She rolls her eyes, but there’s a blush rising to her cheeks, and it kills me how easily I can get under her skin. No one else blushes for me. Not the models, not the debutantes, not the socialites who’d sell their souls to spend a night in my bed. Only her.San Francisco glows under a soft sunset by the time we land, and inste
A Sketch Away From Perfect Future Expectations
*Scott*Harper’s been acting different all afternoon. It’s subtle enough that most people would miss it, but I know her too well. She’s smiling too tightly, laughing with a little too much energy, fidgeting in the way she only does when she’s trying to hide something. I could probably write a field guide to Harper Ward’s anxious ticks, and they’re all fully on display today.We’re hanging the last of her paintings in the studio, lining up each piece she’s created for her gallery showing. Harper’s perched on the step stool, holding a canvas while I measure and mark the wall. She’s so focused now, she’s barely breathing.“All right,” I say, stepping back. “That’s level.”“Great,” she says, but the smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes.I hand her the hammer, and she drives the nail into place with more force than necessary, her knuckles tight around the handle.“Okay, what’s going on?” I ask, leaning my shoulder against the wall. “Because if you hit that nail any harder, we’re gonna end up
A Sketch Away From Perfect Ex-Friends
*Harper*I stare at the dining table, wondering if I’ve overdone it. I’ve definitely overdone it. McKenzy, Melody, and I are the only three having dinner, but I’ve cooked enough for a small army. Roast chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, a side salad, and fresh bread with this fancy herb butter that McKenzy made sit on the table ready to be consumed. I even baked a peach cobbler because I remember Melody liking peaches when we were kids.I know it’s ridiculous since this is just a dinner to discuss baby shower plans, but my anxiety has forced me to create something that feels warm and welcoming, even if this entire situation is about as awkward as it gets. McKenzy peeks over my shoulder as I straighten a fork for the fourth time.“You want to tell me why you’re acting like you’re hosting the damn royal family?” she asks sarcastically.I snort. “Because I have no idea how this is going to go, and if it’s a disaster, at least I can feed her into a food coma,” I tell her honestly, laying
A Sketch Away From Perfect Pampered
*Tomas*I know Harper well enough by now to see when stress is eating her alive, even when she tries to hide it behind that bright, brave smile. Her art show has been consuming every spare second of her time, and on top of that, she still acts like Carmen is going to jump out at her every time we’re out together.That’s why today is all about her.She has no idea what I have planned, and the look of surprise when I show up at her door with a coffee in one hand and a bag of pastries in the other makes me feel like I already won the day.“Buenos días, preciosa.” I kiss her cheek as she opens the door, stepping inside before she can protest. “I’m stealing you for the day.”She blinks at me, still in her robe, hair a messy knot on top of her head. “Stealing me? What do you mean?”“I made an itinerary.” I wave a folded piece of paper in front of her face, then set it on the counter. “You deserve a ‘you day,’ Harper. No painting, no stress. Just you being pampered like the queen you are.”H
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