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A Swift Kick to the Nuts
Last Updated:
2025-04-18 22:05:58
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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
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Harper“You should totally do it. My sister made loads of money. I think she paid off all her student loans!” McKenzy says, tapping the ‘Apply’ button on the screen insistently.I look at https://atalooseend.com like it’s a snake that’s going to bite me. How did it come to this?!“You’re a poor, starving artist who doesn’t sell enough pieces to cover the rent,” she answers my unspoken question, her tone flat. “You have student loans so far up your ass you can taste the red ink! Trust me, this is your best option.”“But… what if they want sex?” I question, wondering if I have it in me to become an escort. I’ve never done anything like that before, though I’m certainly not a virgin.McKenzy stabs her finger at the bold, red, 64-font words on the ‘About’ page. “‘Dates are NOT required to or encouraged to provide sex or engage in sexual acts’. It’s even in the legalese we read in the sample contract. Big and bold. In fact, if we go to the home page…” She reaches over my shoulder and maneu
Last Updated : 2024-11-04A Sketch Away From Perfect Farmer Scott
HarperI try not to pull a Marilyn Monroe as the wind whips the flared skirt of the sleeveless aquamarine dress I am wearing. McKenzy loaned me a pair of high-heeled, strappy sandals to match, and they aren’t helping the situation much as I teeter along the sidewalk, expecting to be swept away like Mary Poppins.As I turn the corner onto Raymond Avenue, I pause to adjust one of the straps on the right sandal. “I should have worn tennis shoes,” I grumble, even though I know that wouldn’t be appropriate. It’s my own fault for losing one of my own silver slippers. Not in a Cinderella way, but in a this-closet-is-an-unholy-vortex way. I’m sure, when I finally get around to cleaning it, the missing slipper will reappear. .“Yeah, when I’m being moved to a nursing home,” I mutter. I catch my reflection in one of the storefront windows and pat back a strand of my hair. At least that’s clipped up in a twist so the wind can only do so much damage.In the reflection, I also see a police car. I
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HarperOkay. You can do this. I throw my shoulders back and walk on Scott’s arm, exuding confidence. At least, I think I’m exuding confidence. I’ve never been anybody’s fake date before.“You don’t have to smile like that. Your face will break in half,” he whispers to me, his arm shaking with repressed laughter.Okay, so, not so confident then. I’m a little embarrassed, but I think my smile’s genuine now. “I don’t want to screw this up for you,” I confess.“If you do, you can make it up to me by letting me buy you dinner sometime,” he murmurs back.My spirits perk up at that possibility. I mean, the chemistry between us is undeniable. “How about, if I screw up, I buy you dinner, and if I knock it out of the park, you can buy me dinner?”Scott engulfs my hand with his warm, rough palm. “Works for me.”When we enter the church, a gray-haired woman in a floral dress spots us and rushes over. “Scott! Thank heavens. I was almost afraid you’d miss the wedding!”“Mom, I’m still fifteen minut
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HarperOh, my God! I can’t believe I just said that! I stare into the mirror in the bathroom, shocked by my own boldness.Harper Ward would never have agreed to that proposition. And with such a dirty remark!But then, maybe ArtIsMyLife33 would?Somebody agreed to go home with Scott and suck his dick. Or I at least implied I was going to.The chicken in me thinks of backing out. Scott would be polite about it, I know. The part of me who hasn’t been with a man in the six months since I broke up with that controlling asshole Jack? That part wants to ride that big cock I saw in the truck, right into the sunset.I lock eyes with myself. “Who are you?” I murmur.The door slams open, and two drunk, giggling guests come into the restroom. “Oh, my God, did you see Scott? He is still so dreamy.”“Too bad he’s taken,” the other says.Neither of them notice me, and I decide to keep it that way by slipping into a bathroom stall.“Jessie says he is so good in bed. She says she’s never had anything
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Harper“You slept with him?!” McKenzy’s jaw goes slack. It’s the next morning, and we’ve finally gotten a chance to talk. When I got home the night before, I took a shower and crashed. Hard.“Announce it to the whole apartment complex, why don’t you?” I hiss. “And yes. I slept with him. It was amazing.”“Amazing? It says on the website you don’t have to do the whole escort thing!” she says. “Did we forget the website?”I snort. “I didn’t do it because I thought I had to. I wanted to. We really hit it off.”“I’ll say. You slept with him on the first date. And it wasn’t even a proper date!” She all but wails.“Dramatic much? You’ve done it before,” I remind her.“Yeah, but you’re not me.” McKenzy paces around me, looking me up and down. She pinches my arm.“Hey!” I gripe.She nods. “Okay, so I’m not dreaming.”“You’re supposed to pinch yourself!” I pinch her back.“Ouch! Fine, fine, okay. We can be super sluts together then. But honestly, Harper, you need to stop copying me. I’m sure yo
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DamienWhat an unexpected pleasure. I watch Harper’s cheeks flush as our shoulders touch in the limo. Honestly, I should be sitting further away from her. There’s plenty of seating in the limo’s expansive back section after all. But since I first laid eyes on her, I’ve been utterly captivated.Today, I just wanted someone who checked all the right boxes for the dress. Tonight, I’m realizing I might have found someone who checks all the right boxes for me.“Have you been to an art gallery opening before?” I ask conversationally, my hand still boldly laid over hers. I’m not a man who lets what he wants get away.She swallows, and it draws my attention to the elegant lines of her neck. “No, Damien. I haven’t.”“I think you’ll find it rather entertaining,” I continue. “Especially given your art background. Or am I making too many assumptions about your username? Are you an art history major?”Harper pauses, then admits, “I’m an artist. Mostly a painter.”Intriguing. “Really? Then again, I
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HarperThe rest of the evening is a blur. Michael has to circulate, of course, but he comes back to Damien and me frequently to check in. He asks where I’m showing my work. I blush and say, “The Witch’s Brew coffee shop on Lake Street in Minneapolis.”Michael grins at me. “A perfect place to start.”“You’ll have to give some pieces to a proper gallery now, though. People will be wondering where to find your work,” Damien whispers in my ear.“Because you announced it in front of the press!” I reply.Damien gives me an innocent look. “Did I do that?”I squeeze his arm in gratitude, and he laughs.It’s late by the time we leave Michael, Julian and the rest of Damien’s acquaintances at the gallery. I can’t help but note that Damien didn’t call any of them his friends.“Do your friends not attend gallery openings?” I ask.Damien winces at me. “Caught that, did you? I don’t have a lot of friends, Harper. A man like me makes a lot of enemies. I do have one good friend, Laurence Killian, but
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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
A Sketch Away From Perfect Chaos and Beauty Collide
*Harper*I’m practically vibrating with excitement when I burst into the apartment, nearly knocking poor McKenzy off the couch. She’s got paint in her hair, a bowl of popcorn balanced on her lap, and her laptop open to some DIY tutorial. The moment she sees my face, her eyes go wide.“Okay, what’s got you bouncing off the walls like a caffeinated squirrel?” she asks, grinning as she sets her popcorn aside.“We’re doing it!” I practically sing, spinning in a circle. “We’re having our art show. And it’s going to be huge.”McKenzy gasps and leaps off the couch to grab my hands. “Shut up. Are you serious? How did this happen?”“Damien,” I answer, breathless from my impromptu happy dance. “I mentioned it to him, and before I could even finish the sentence, he had this whole plan. He said he’s going to blast it all over social media and call in favors from every art critic, influencer, and high-society snob he knows.”McKenzy’s jaw drops. “Holy shit. You know what this means, right?”“That
A Sketch Away From Perfect Big Ideas
*Harper*McKenzy’s perched on top of a step stool, paintbrush clenched between her teeth, holding two wildly different knobs up to a half-finished dresser. One is sleek brass, the other shaped like a ceramic lemon.“I’m thinking weird fruit motif,” she says around the brush. “Or is that too quirky farm wife?”“Knowing you,” I say, smearing cobalt blue across my latest canvas, “it’s exactly the right amount of quirky farm wife.”She grins and tosses the lemon knob into her tool bag. “Perfect. If Scott hates it, I’ll tell him to take it up with my creative genius.”The studio feels especially bright today, sunlight spilling through the windows, illuminating the organized chaos we’ve turned it into. My corner smells like oil paint and turpentine. McKenzy’s side smells like sawdust and wood stain.McKenzy spins on her stool, eyeing my painting. “That’s new.”“Just started it last night,” I say. “It’s about Melody. Sort of.”She leans closer, frowning slightly. “It’s angry.”“It’s complica
A Sketch Away From Perfect A Sour Melody
*Harper*My third cup of coffee sits half-finished on the table, paint still clinging to the edges of my nails from a morning spent lost in my latest piece. McKenzy’s out running errands, the apartment is quiet, and I’m riding the kind of creative high that only comes when everything just clicks.I’m about to dip my brush into a streak of deep teal when my phone buzzes. I grab it without thinking, expecting McKenzy or Scott or maybe one of the guys.It’s the gallery in Chicago.My stomach flips.“Hello?” I answer, trying not to sound like someone who just inhaled a cinnamon roll while juggling a paintbrush between her teeth.“Harper! It’s Stephanie at the Whitney.” Her voice is bright, almost bubbly. That’s already a good sign.“Hi!” I tuck the phone between my ear and shoulder, scrambling for a notepad in case I need to write anything down.“I hope I’m not interrupting, but I wanted to call personally,” Stephanie says. “We’ve had some really wonderful interest in your work after that
