Verdant Growth

After a month of living in Oasis Springs, I had a lot to be thankful for. Despite my terrible diet, I didn’t gain any weight, or at least I don’t think I did. My paintings have also gotten better, but my current pride and joy has to be my garden. It’s done wonders to help me pay the bills, not that they are unreasonably high, but what can I say, being an artist isn’t cheap.

I mostly kept to myself though I’d socialize a little with people who’d walk by as I was gardening. The older folks loved my flowers, I worked hard to take care of them and tried adding new strains to their genetic pool to make them evolve. It was really rewarding, like having a kid, but affordable.

The Boyd twins were two gentlemen that I ended up seeing a lot more often than expected, but what can I say, they are polite and are also artists… Just in the music way. Which is nice, I can’t exactly judge as neither of our jobs are very stable.

“Hey…” Jeremy’s voice sounded over the phone, “I got your text, that is fan-freaking-tastic, Hania! Your own agent, you’ve been busting your butt and totally deserve it.” I chuckled a bit at his enthusiasm, phone in one hand, paint brush in the other.

“Thank you, Jeremy. It means a lot to hear that from a friend.”

“And as a friend, I’m taking you out to go get some overpriced drinks and gerbil food, while we wear uncomfortable shoes!” His playful manner had me laughing and I decided to say yes, even though I had some commissions to work on.

“Well, well, looks like there’s a lady under all that paint.” Jeremy teased when I arrived, I rolled my eyes and blew a kiss in his direction. So he did what any good friend would do, put on a great show of having his breath stolen away. And soon we were arm and arm, rubbing elbows with a few of our industry peers.

The drinks flowed and so did the jokes, I met a few wealthy individuals who were interested in commissioning pieces from me, and I had to thank Jeremy repeatedly for bringing me out. He merely wrapped an arm around my shoulders and whispered in my ear, “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” A slight shiver went down my spine but I managed a small smile before pulling away and ordering an 80 simoleon drink for each of us.

“To success, Mister Boyd.” I said and clinked my glass with his.

“To success.” He replied a grin playing over his lips.

My schedule got busy again as I prepared to do my first art show, I had been requested after one of my pieces sold for over 1,000 simoleons to an up and rising politician in the area. So I was rather surprised when I heard knocking on my door, I kept my artist persona completely separated from the real me.

“Hey, Jeremy, what’s up?” I asked with a smile as he slipped in the door. His suit was rather impressive, he’d been doing well for himself, though I had heard a handful of rumors regarding his escapades. “You look nice…” I murmured when he didn’t answer, and simply grinned at me.

“I’ve been thinking about you.” Was all he said, and suddenly I found myself drowning in his warm brown eyes.

I think I lost a button. But I guess this is part of being artist… Being a sucker for the passion and unexpected?

It didn’t mean anything, we just happened to be looking for inspiration within one another. Or at least that’s what I’m going to keep telling myself.

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