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Sugar Baby
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2024-11-22 02:18:34
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A Sketch Away From Perfect Difficult News
*Tomas*Harper’s on edge today, and I can’t figure out why. It’s just there, in the subtle shift in her energy and the way her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She seems distracted, and even a little distant. There’s definitely something on her mind, and she isn’t letting me in. That isn’t like her, and it has me worried.“You look beautiful,” I murmur as I finish clasping the necklace she chose for the baby shower. It’s a delicate gold thing with a tiny opal pendant that rests just below her collarbone. My clumsy fingers could hardly work the clasp, but she asked me to help anyway. She was too jittery to do it herself.“Thank you,” she says, her voice light but somehow off.I watch her in the mirror, unsure whether to press it or to leave it alone. She smooths her dress over her hips, then adjusts the sleeves. She’s fidgety, picking and pulling like she can’t make it fit just right.The shower is all set up, and our dinner reservation isn’t for another hour, but she’s been ready f
A Sketch Away From Perfect Homecoming
*Rafe*I immediately spot Harper through the wall of bodies at the baggage claim. Her hair is pulled back in that messy knot she always does when she’s not trying too hard, and her smile is radiant. My chest goes warm immediately. I’m home.Harper begins frantically waving the moment our eyes meet. She’s wearing jeans and a navy hoodie that says “Minneapolis Art Girls” across the front in cracked white letters. I already know there are probably specks of paint all over it. I grab the strap of my carry-on tighter and weave through the crowd to get to my little artist.“Hey, superstar,” she teases as I get close, grinning up at me. “Catch any touchdowns lately?”I lean in and kiss her before I say a word. Her mouth is soft and warm and familiar. She tastes like cinnamon gum and vanilla lip balm, a specific combination of hers that always makes me a little weak. I linger on her lips, giving her all the passion I’ve been saving up since she last visited.“Hi,” I say simply when we break a
A Sketch Away From Perfect Three to Go
*Harper*I reread the email on my screen three times, trying to make sense of the offer from École des Beaux-Arts in Paris. As much as I want to immediately text all the guys and get their input, I force myself to wait, trying to take it all in and process it before I talk to any of them.It should be an easy yes. It’s what I’ve always wanted–the chance to live abroad, to teach, to immerse myself in a city that practically breathes art. But there’s no such thing as easy when my heart belongs to four different men, and all of them are here.When I’ve fully taken it in, the first person I want to talk about it with is Rafe. I already know he’ll be supportive. He always is. But after all the years I’ve known him, I’ve come to truly value what he thinks and feels. I hit call and press the phone to my ear, my nerves fluttering in my chest.“Hey, baby,” he answers, his voice lazy and warm. “Miss me already?”I smile. “Always.”“What’s up?”I pull a blanket over my legs and curl deeper into
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
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