Chapter 29 - Artist

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After that, I lay down in my bed, feeling a mixture of discomfort and resignation. "How long do you plan on being here?" I asked, my voice tinged with irritation.

"I just like watching you sleep," he replied casually, his tone unsettlingly calm.

"And you plan on standing over me?" I questioned, a shiver running down my spine.

"Kinda. I usually watch you sleep from your computer. You look so cute," he remarked, his words sending a chill through me.

"That's definitely not creepy at all," I muttered under my breath, unable to hide my unease.

He chuckled softly. "Fine, I'll sleep beside you."

"Okay, not like I have a choice," I conceded, feeling a sense of resignation wash over me.

He laid beside me, and although I had forgotten how imposing his presence could be, he was surprisingly comfortable to lean against. I drifted off to sleep almost immediately.

I awoke to the sound of my alarm and stretched, reaching to turn it off on my phone. As I did so, he stirred beside me, pulling me into a warm embrace.

"I thought this was a dream," I mumbled, feeling disoriented and drowsy.

"Well, it isn't," he replied softly, his arms still wrapped around me.

"Let me go," I muttered, feeling a sense of claustrophobia creeping in.

"Just a little longer," he pleaded, holding me tight against him.

After a few moments, he reluctantly released me. I got dressed quickly, feeling his gaze follow my every move as I prepared for the day ahead.

"Are you meeting up with that artist today?" he inquired as I prepared to leave.

"Yes, we're just going to go over the draft for a bit," I replied, trying to mask my nerves.

I called an Uber and arrived at the meeting place. "Oh, Y/N, you're here early," the woman greeted me as I entered.

"Yeah, I am. You are too," I remarked, noting her punctuality.

"Well, the artist is just fascinated with your work. She should be in there," she explained, gesturing towards the small closed-off office.

I entered and greeted the woman who seemed completely immersed in her work. "Hello," I said tentatively.

"Oh, hello. My name is Muse. You must be Y/N," she said warmly, looking up from her task.

"Yes, sorry I'm a bit early," I apologized, feeling a bit awkward.

"No problem at all. Here, now sit, sit. I have just a few questions about your 'Confessions of a Sinner.' It seemed so real, so personal. Mind telling me where you got this from?" she inquired, her curiosity evident.

"Uh, well," I stuttered, caught off guard by her directness. I hadn't anticipated being put under the spotlight like this. "It came from just observing life through the lens of media and contemplating how it might translate into reality," I explained, hoping my answer would suffice.

"Ah, so more about how the romanticization of things can distort our perceptions," she mused, nodding in understanding.

"Yes, exactly," I confirmed, relieved that she seemed to grasp the concept.

"Well, I've been thinking about this project for a while. I think a more realistic art style would best suit it," she proposed.

"That sounds amazing," I responded, feeling a surge of excitement at the prospect of collaborating on such a meaningful project.

We spent hours discussing the layout, even printing out my project and laying it on the floor, tearing pieces out, and trying to figure out what went where. It was mentally draining, but also exhilarating. As Muse's phone went off, signaling the end of our meeting, she remarked, "Ah well, that's time."

"Thank you so much," I expressed my gratitude.

"No problem, but keep trying to add to this. We might make a sequel from it," she suggested, leaving me feeling elated at the thought of my work garnering such attention and potential for expansion.

As I left the building, lost in thoughts of possibilities, Christian's voice broke through my reverie. "Didn't eat for five hours straight," he remarked, reminding me of my neglected hunger.

"Wait, I've been there for that long?" I asked in disbelief.

"Yup. Come on, let's get you something to eat," he said, taking charge and pulling me into his car, his concern evident in his actions.

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