From the Inside Out: The Compilation (Scorned, Jealousy, Dylan, Austin) by S. L. Scott Page A

tell each other what they think.”
    “Oh trust me, I thought those and more, but I shouldn’t have said them.”
    “I thought you were coming over here to apologize. That’s what the message said. So why am I here trying to make you feel better about something that not only do you not need to apologize for, but you also don’t need to feel bad about?” I look up.
    Brandon’s looking out my office window, mulling my words. “That was a mouthful.”
    “You’re a handful. Let’s call it even and move on, okay?”
    He smiles. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
    “Sit down. You’re making me all anxious and stuff pacing around like that.”
    He does. “It’s like being in a fishbowl, this window is so big.”
    I sigh, following his gaze onto the street. “I know. I hate it.”
    “Move to the back office.”
    “Can’t. This space was designed to give that feeling even at the expense of the Art Director.”
    “You’re snarky today.”
    “I’m snarky every day.”
    “Especially today though. What’s up?” he asks. “You’re hiding something.”
    I keep my head bent toward the papers on my desk, but lift my eyes only to be met by his eager ones. “I went for a drink with a client yesterday.”
    “That Austin guy, right?”
    “Yes, how’d you know?”
    “It was inevitable. He’s been chasing you for too long. You’ve been holding off for too long… See? Inevitable.”
    “I had a good time. We had a couple of drinks and it was fun.”
    Brandon leans forward, resting his forearms on my desk. “You deserve happy.” I look back down, pretending to be busier than I am. “Jules? You should allow yourself this happiness. I can see it in your eyes, there’s something different, a lightness. Your mouth wants to smile, but you work so hard to hide it, fighting it. Just give in.”
    As we stretch into a zone I’m not quite comfortable in, I detract. “I saw Dylan.”
    “What? When?” Brandon’s tone changes, the harshness felt in a small vibration across the glass of my desktop as his hand starts tapping.
    I stand up. Walking over to the filing cabinet in the corner, I duck my head to avoid his judgment. I shouldn’t have told him, but there’s no point in lying about it now. “Yesterday, I went to see Dylan. When I was leaving I ran into Austin in the elevator.”
    “You what? Why’d you go see him? What happened? What’d you say? What’d he say?”
    I turn around, leaning my shoulder on the tall cabinet. “Not much. I doubt we even exchanged twenty words the whole conversation. He was surprised to say the least.”
    “I bet.” Brandon looks away. “I’m glad something good came out of it. The drinks with Austin.” He’s letting me off the hook, so I nod. When he stands, he adds, “I should get back.”
    I walk him out. We hug goodbye, not saying the word, not needing to.
     

     
    THE SUN SETS and the sidewalk outside my window is empty. People are already home or have arrived to their after work destination while I remain at my desk. The day was long, but it will be longer. I never mind putting in extra hours since I don’t have anything to return to at home.
    Just a few days have passed since the exhibit, enough time to allow the worry, the stress to set in. I look over at the painting that’s cushioned in bubble wrap and covered in a protective outer layer of brown paper. It’s leaning against my wall and has Barker written on the outside.
    I call my two interns in to load it onto the truck. When they don’t answer the back phone, I decide to hunt them down, but find Dylan instead. He’s standing in the middle of the gallery eyeing a Chihuly vase. I can tell he wants to touch it, maybe hold it, but he restrains himself. I understand the desire. I wanted to do the same when I first saw it.
    It’s stunning.
    He’s stunning.
    Annoyingly so, and more than he was back then. My hate isn’t as strong as it once was, not even matching the emotions I felt a few weeks ago. Does this