The wooden floor boards of her New York apartment creaked in vain, their protests unheeded by the pacing woman within. Nicole Papadopoulos was the picture of a struggling artist. Slender with charcoal bangs poking free from her knitted walnut beanie and on down to her shoulders, Nicole pulled her cap-matching cardigan around herself to protect her olive skin from the drafty breeze. Beneath, she wore a creamy, loose tank, littered with paint stains that would never come out. Her form-fitting off-white jeans were the color of clouds on a rainy day, hand-cut at the knees with her own knife for fashion. That same knife carved the ornate wooden symbol that hung around her neck and bounced lightly just above her modest but full breasts.
If only lack of inspiration was Nicole's problem. That, she could deal with. She'd done so countless times over the years. Buy a trinket at the dollar store here, play a vinyl record of the finest classical music you could buy for five dollars there. When things got really dire, she could even go watch lovebirds at Central Park, ice skaters at Rockefeller Plaza, or street musicians down in the subway. There was no shortage of inspiration in New York City for an up and coming, young artist.
None of that was going to help her now. No amount of still life apples could quell the skip in her step, nor any number of antique candlestick props for the thudding of her heart. Nicole was in love! Or at least as deeply in love as someone who doesn't know much about love can be. Who really cares when you feel all the warm and fuzzies? She knew it the moment she saw Zoey Long and felt Cupid's arrow pierce straight through her heart.
~ ~ ~
Nicole was sitting next to her most recent painting at the local art festival. In an ideal world, she was hoping to sell it. She loved her art, but she really needed the money. After enough people ignoring her, she would have taken even a little small talk or a compliment. Sure, a few people would give it a polite look, maybe pretend to care or chat about it with their friends, but no one really showed much interest. After a while, Nicole was lost in thought, resting her cheek on her palm and dreaming of other worlds.
"Oh my! This is wonderful. Did you paint it? ...Helloooo, anyone home in there?"
"Sorry, what?" Nicole asked, bewildered by the sudden attention. She stared in awe up at the woman who appeared by her side, the very same woman who was now waving her hand in front of the painter's face excitedly.
The woman was dainty, soft, and pretty like a fairy, and she may as well have been with the way she seemed to appear out of nowhere with such a playful aura about her. Golden locks of hair tumbled over her sun-touched shoulders in soft waves. Her hair, which was clearly cared for with meticulous affection, was the only thing covering those slender shoulders apart from the spaghetti straps of her lime green camisole. A milky white skirt hugged her heart-shaped hips and flowed down to her knees just like the hair that flowed midway down her back. Her heels matched her playful skirt perfectly.
"You painted this right?" the fairy tale blonde repeated, smiling brightly. "It's beautiful. I just love how the colors blend together on the ice... and how the street lights just bounce off it like it's a prism. You are so creative and talented!"
"Uh-m, thanks" Nicole stammered, blushing as she looked up into the woman's gleaming blue eyes. That smile of her's sent tingles rushing down her spine. "That is like... the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me..."
"Really?" the blonde looked surprised. "Well you should hear things like that more often, girl, because your painting is way better than most of the knock-off crap people have around here."
Nicole was so overwhelmed with emotion that she didn't know what to say. Who was this girl, and what fairy tale world did she drop out of? She paused and tried to compose herself. Remembering her plight as a struggling artist, who was indeed, here at this festival in a desperate attempt to try to sell one of her paintings, she wasn't going to let an onslaught of kindness and beauty deter her from a potential sale.
"Well um... it is the one and only of its kind. Maybe you could picture yourself hanging it on your living room wall? It's a really good deal..."
The woman looked at the painting for a long moment as if imagining Nicole's proposition.
"Hmm... no," she said slowly but immediately smiled reassuringly when she noticed Nicole slump her shoulders. "But I have a better idea!"
"Um?" Nicole sputtered, wondering to herself what could possibly be better than paying her bills.
"Nicole, is it?" the woman gestured to the dejected artist's name tag. She smiled and posed so seductively that Nicole wondered if she was a professional model. "My name is Zoey Long, and I would like to commission you, Nicole Papadopoulos, to paint my portrait in your studio! I'll pay you the same as this painting, and if I like it, I'll even double what you're asking for this one!"
"I would love to!" Nicole beamed up at Zoey, who gave her a look that sent a tidal wave of shivers rushing through her whole body.
"Great! I'll see you then!" was all Zoey said but her wink seemed to hold some unspoken meaning. Nicole could only hope.
They exchanged info, and Zoey turned to walk off. Her hips moved sultrily beneath her skirt so much that it swooshed across her legs. Nicole couldn't help but stare, but Zoey caught her almost immediately, tilting her head to look over her shoulder with that disarming smile. Nicole looked down, utterly mortified. Zoey really was the prettiest girl she'd ever seen.
~ ~ ~
Before Nicole could think back on it anymore, a light knock on the door pulled her out of her reverie. She blanched, heart going wild. Oh my God, she's here already? Nicole thought to herself in a mixture of glee and horror as she rushed to the door. Once she finished fumbling with the chain lock, the artist managed to open the door.
