Drawn To You (GirlxGirl)

Part 55

Jessie's P.O.V

I stood at the far end of the gallery, mingling with other artists while Nick, the gallery owner, addressed us all. He looked poised, confident, the kind of man who had spent years in this world and knew how to navigate it with ease.

"This is a moment I've been dreaming of for a long time," Nick said, his voice carrying over the small crowd of artists who had gathered for this special night. "And I'm thrilled to be sharing it with all of you. Thank you for trusting our gallery to showcase your work. Now, let's enjoy some food, drinks, and good company."

At his cue, a line of waiters emerged from the back, each carrying trays of champagne. The clinking of glasses and murmured voices filled the gallery as artists exchanged small smiles and polite nods.

It felt like I had stepped into a different world, a world Allie and I had mocked together not so long ago. I couldn't help but smile at the memory of her playful jabs at the pretentiousness of it all. That familiar ache in my chest returned, but I fought against it, pushing down the emotions that threatened to rise.

I grabbed a glass from a passing waiter and took a cautious sip, the taste sharp and dry on my tongue. Champagne had never really been my thing, but I was trying to fit in here, trying to pretend that this was where I belonged. That this was where I wanted to be.

Nick opened the gallery doors, and soon a wave of people swept in, dressed in expensive clothes, eyes wide with excitement as they took in the space. I found my spot beside my series of paintings—three portraits of Allie, arranged in perfect sequence. My name sat below them on a shiny gold plaque, and for the first time, I realised just how surreal this moment was. I had painted these with my heart on my sleeve, never thinking they would be admired by strangers in a fancy gallery in New York City.

Two couples, probably in their forties, stopped in front of the paintings, tilting their heads as they took them in.

"Oh wow, these are amazing, aren't they?" the wife said, her voice full of awe.

The husband nodded, glancing at me. "Are you the artist?"

I managed a small bow, nodding in acknowledgment. "Yes, I am."

"You're very talented," he said, smiling at me warmly.

I thanked him, but before I could say anything more, the other husband chimed in, adjusting his glasses as he studied the paintings closely.

"The juxtaposition of interior and exterior elements, especially the way the vibrancy of the outside world contrasts with the cold, detached figure inside—brilliant commentary on the human condition." He said confidently.

I stifled a laugh, biting my lip to keep from grinning.

'A commentary on the human condition?'

It wasn't exactly what I had been thinking when I painted them, but I appreciated the effort.

"Thank you," I said, trying to keep my tone serious.

"Wouldn't these look great on our living room wall, darling?" The first wife looked up at her husband with a pleading smile.

The husband smiled indulgently. "Yes, yes they would."

He gestured toward the cards on the small table next to me. "May I?"

For a second, I stood there, blinking, not fully processing what was happening. He wanted to buy them? I handed him a card, trying to act casual, though the excitement bubbled beneath my skin.

"Just hand that over at the desk by the end of the night, and they'll sort everything out." I told him with a smile.

They thanked me and walked off, and I stood there, still processing the fact that I had just sold my first copy of the series. The night passed by in a blur after that—more people came and went, admiring the paintings, asking me about my process, and by the time the evening was well underway, I had sold more than I ever thought possible.