I glanced at Howard as I scurried past him on my way into the art studio. He winked at me as he climbed back into his limo.
"Enjoy your stay," he said, his brown eyes twinkling as he drove away. I blushed.
"Wow," I said, as I stepped into the art studio. It was amazing.
The spacious floor was wide open, no separate rooms. The walls were a bright and cheerful sky blue with white polka dots and stripes. The wall furthest away from me, leading to the back alley had a beautiful mural of random and brightly colored shapes. But when I really looked at it, the shapes all came together to look like a person sitting at an easel painting.
The entire floor was wooden, but a few feet away from the door, it was covered in a paint-splattered plastic sheet that went all the way to the back of the studio.
The section to the right of me was covered in finished (and probably drying) paintings, propped up against the wall and white shelves. To my left, paintings were in glass cases with wooden pedestals. This was the only other part of the studio that did not have a plastic sheet on the floor. The back of the studio held all different sized easels, with a bucket of paintbrushes next to each. The wall closest to the easels was covered from top to bottom with shelves, all full with various sponges, paint bottles and tubes, and palettes.
In the very center of the room was a spiral staircase, not grand like in the Cinderella movies, but a metal staircase, with flimsy looking stairs. The best part, though, was the blue, plastic, curly slide spiraling around the outside of the staircase.
"This is amazing!" I commented, gingerly stepping onto the plastic covering. Casey was standing a few feet away from me with my bags at his feet, looking at me nervously, as if unsure how I would take his studio.
His features relaxed. "Really? You like it?" He grinned.
I nodded. "Of course! Why wouldn't I? This is so cool. I never had anything like this in L.A. or Wisconsin!"
"Really? You're from Wisconsin?"
I nodded again, both pleased and nervous with his reaction. "Yeah. I lived there my whole life, until I turned seventeen and moved to L.A. to be on So Random."
"That's cool. Here, lemme take you upstairs and show you around." He led me up the winding staircase, which turned out to be a lot more stable than it looked.
The upstairs was much more modern than the studio. It had a main area with a flat screen that had several gaming systems connected to it, as well as a bright red modern couch and clear glass coffee table. The corner of the main area had a red plastic bowl-like thing that hung sideways from the ceiling, with a white cushion in it.
"It's a chair," Casey said, noticing my confusion. "And a comfortable one at that. Oh, and take your shoes off, please."
I looked down and promptly slipped off my sneakers. The carpet covering the entire room was a fluffy white and looked very expensive. I did not want to ruin it the first day I was staying here, having to look at a shoe stain on the fluffy carpet the rest of my stay.
"Okay, so the first door to your left-" he indicated the first door, a bright silver color at that. "That is the kitchen, which in turn leads to the dining room. I have no idea when your classes are, but I usually get up around ten to eat breakfast before opening the studio for morning art classes at eleven. Anyway, the door next to that is the bathroom, the one after that is my room, which has it's own bathroom, so be careful not to run me out of hot water when I come up after closing down the studio. The one next to that-" he pointed again, we were not at the door straight across the room from us- the room was slightly circular, but boxy at the same time, it was very odd, "is your room. It also has it's own bathroom. The room next to yours is the gaming room, which ahs a door to the fire escape slash balcony, which has a grill and a patio set. The room next to that is my office for money purposes, I rarely use it, and the one directly to your right, leads to the quote, grand foyer. There is a door leading from the foyer that leads to another guest bedroom, the one either Tawni uses when she comes down to visit, or my old roommate from the private high school I used to go to visits. Which reminds me, he is coming in three days, so just don't get freaked out if you wake up on Monday to see a stranger drinking coffee and bowling on the Wii. And that is about it. I'm going to stop talking now so you can go get settled. I need to get back down for my toddler art classes." He looked at his watch. "Shoot. They're gonna be here in ten minutes, and I haven't set up!" He nodded to me, then ran up to the base of the slide and pushed himself down, laughing as he slid.
Wow, he was adorable. I really should call Tawni and thank her. I picked up my bags from where Casey left them, and proceeded to step across the very, very soft carpet to the silver door that Casey indicated as mine.
Was everything in this loft amazing, or what? My room was a soft pink with green stripes. The bed was a giant black canopy bed and there was a green and pink door to the far left, which I presumed led to the bathroom. I had a pink nightstand with a black phone on it and a green lava lamp. The ceiling fan was green and black polka dotted, and the black armchair with a small TV in front of it matched the room perfectly. Overall, it appeared I was to be sleeping in a giant watermelon for the next six or seven months.
I started to unpack and I pulled out my cell and put Tawni on speaker while I put away my stuff.
"The Tawni Hart who looks practically stunning today, how can I help you? Oh, who am I kidding? I look amazing every day! So what do you want?"
"Tawni? Hey, it's Sonny. First of all, I want to scream at you for not telling Casey was indeed a guy, not a girl like I thought. And second, I want to see you and give you a big hug for having such a hot cousin!"
Tawni giggled on the other line. She smacked her lips before replying, obviously putting on her Coco Moco Coco lipstick. "Looks run in the family," she said mildly. "So you have your eyes on my cousin?" she asked, hoping for some juicy dirt that she could spill.
"Well, I sure hope so," I commented. I paused, straining my ears. Was that child laughter I heard? Oh, yeah, he was supposed to be teaching a class to little kids. I thought he was kidding, though.
"Well, good luck to you," Tawni said. "He just broke up with his girlfriend Liza a few weeks ago, so he is wide open," she said.
"Okay, then," I said. "I have to go unpack, Tawni. Stay pretty," I said, finishing our conversation with our usual farewell.
"Stay fashion sense-less," she said, saying her part. I hung up, hurriedly putting my clothes and stuff where they belonged. Then, I freshened up. I was still wearing my sweats from the airport.
I came out of my room after a nice, hot shower. My hair was still wet, so I put it up in a high ponytail. It was surprisingly cool in New York, compared to California in the summer, so I had a not too long, not too short jean skirt Tawni bought for me and a baby blue tank top that revealed a little too much, if you know what I mean. But I was not in the mood to go looking for anything else.
Besides, I had a boy to catch!
I slid down the curly slide with easy grace, landing steadily on my feet at the bottom. I walked over to where Casey was towering above ten or so little kids, all under the age of five. He had put down individual sheets of white paper, and the kids had their pants rolled up as to avoid their paint-covered piggies, which were busy stomping around their paper.
"Hey, Sonny," he said, his eyes twinkling as he saw me. But he was interrupted by a wail. A little girl with her blonde and curly hair pulled into two adorable pigtails fell onto her rear end, right onto her painting. The twinkling in his eyes disappeared, replaced by stress.
"Looks like you could use some help," I said, reaching down to pick up the little girl.
"Definitely. Can you cope with little kids, though? I had hired a teen girl a year ago, and she got frustrated with them very easily."
"Please," I scoffed. "Little kids are my thing. If I hadn't gone into acting, then I would have been a kindergarten teacher." I looked up, avoiding his bright eyes before I stopped breathing forever. "Now you wouldn't happen to have a spare pare of shorts for her, would you? I asked, soothing the little girl while trying successfully to not get blue and orange paint on my skirt.
"As a matter of fact, all these kids come with a change of clothes," he said, proudly walking over to a rack of bins. "Let's see…Sydney, Sydney, Sydney," he mumbled to himself. "Ah, here we are," he said, pulling out a pair of hot pink shorts.
"Thanks," I said, trying hard not to blush as his hand grazed mine. Needless to say, I failed.
I took the still crying Sydney upstairs to change her shorts.
I slid down the slide with her in her new shorts a few minutes later. She was still crying.
"How old is she?" I asked, walking back up to Casey who was helping a boy sign his name to his painting.
"Who, Sydney? She just had her third birthday last month. She's a bit of a crier," he commented.
"No kidding, " I said, bouncing her on my hip. "Can I have a fresh piece of paper?" I asked him.
"Sure. But aren't you a little old for this class?" I whacked him on his back on my way to the corner of the studio with Sydney, a bottle of blue paint, and the piece of paper.
I put down the paper on the plastic and sat Sydney down. She was still crying, her eyes puffy and her shirt wet. I went back to the shelves and grabbed a box of wipes and wiped off her feet.
"Here, sweetie," I said, dipping Sydney's fingers in the blue paint. "Now paint on your paper," I said. She looked at me warily. I nodded my encouragement and she focused all her attention on drawing squares and squiggles on the paper. Sure enough, she stopped crying and only painted quietly. I stood up carefully, hoping not to trigger the tears again.
"How did you do that?" Casey asked as I triumphantly grinned and walked over to him.
"I have superior skills!" I said and walked over to a kid who had just fallen face-first into the plate of pink paint.
"Here, let's get that wiped up," I said, carefully kneeling besides the boy and wiping off his face.
Ten minutes later, the parents came for pick up. Another ten minutes later, Casey and I were lounging on his couch, both worn out.
"So. How did you like your first toddler art class?" he asked, turning just enough to look at me lazily. I laughed.
"It was a fascinating experience. You work really well with the kids," I told him.
"Thanks. You weren't so bad yourself, Sonny. So…you wanna grab some lunch and I can show you around?" he asked.
"Sounds like fun," I replied, standing up. "Lemme get my shoes."
I came back a few minutes later, flip-flops in hand. I decided to let my hair dry out and it was now flowing down my back in damp waves.
Casey was coming out of his door next to mine. He had changed out of his paint covered clothes and was now in a pair of ripped khaki shorts and a striped polo. He had pushed his hair out of his eyes, and it did not want to cooperate, it just flopped back in his eyes adorably.
He looked at me, caught me looking at him looking at me, and looked away, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks.
I broke the awkward moment. "So, come on, let's go. It's almost one and I am starving," I said, walking towards the stairs.
"Beat you down," Casey said, whipping down the slide. I took off down the stairs, trying to get to the ground before him. I lost.
We walked out of the café in high spirits, me just having the best lunch ever, and Casey, because he found a five-dollar bill under our table.
"So. We are now off to Rockefeller Center to eat some ice cream. They have the best ice cream during the summer. And in the wintertime, it is turned into an ice rink. It's so cool."
"Wow," I commented, looking around me at the busy streets and high skyscrapers.
"Yeah, wow is right. New York city is awes-" he was interrupted by my mooing phone.
"Oh, hold on, I gotta take this," I said, glancing at the caller ID.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Sonny, it's Chad.
A/N- review, tell me what you thought and what you want to see in upcoming chapters!