Chapter 4 A Proposal

Mia's Pov:

I tried to sketch his features quickly, glancing up only occasionally to avoid staring. My curiosity about him was almost overwhelming. After a few rough lines, I finally gathered the courage to speak.

"Alright, let's see what I can do. Are you going for the 'mysterious artist' look or the 'I just woke up and I'm already fabulous look?" I asked, my enthusiasm barely contained.

He scanned me from head to toe before responding in a teasing tone, "Definitely the latter. It's all about authenticity. And you?"

I smiled as I met his gaze.

"I was aiming for subtlety. I want to capture that effortless chic you have."

"Subtlety, huh? I'll try not to take offense if my portrait turns out looking like a ghost," he chuckled.

"Well, if it does, it'll be a very stylish ghost," I shot back, defensively.

He laughed, and I noticed Will walking into the center of the room from the corner of my eye. Clapping his hands, he drew everyone's attention.

"Everyone, may I have your attention?" he said. The room fell silent as all eyes turned to him.

"As almost everyone's finished with their rough sketches, I think it's time for a break. Feel free to explore the terrace and the building. Let's reconvene here in 20 minutes," Will announced before heading toward us.

"So, wanna grab some lunch, Mia?" Will asked, a slight blush on his cheeks.

"Oh, I already packed lunch from home. Thanks for the offer, though," I replied, feeling a bit flustered.

"Ah, I see. Enjoy your meal, Mia. Henry, would you like to join me?" Will turned to Henry.

"No," Henry quickly replied.

"Damn, two rejections in one day. Does no one want to have lunch with me?" Will asked, his tone playful.

An elderly couple from the table beside us approached Will.

"Come on, Will. We'll join you," she said, taking his hand.

"Of course, Candice. I'd love to," Will replied, smiling warmly as he gently accepted her hand.

They left, leaving Henry and me alone.

I picked up my bag and turned to Henry.

"I'm heading to the terrace for lunch. I made enough for two. Would you like to join me? I wanted to thank you."

I waited, but he didn't respond. My cheeks grew hot with embarrassment. I started to walk toward the stairs, berating myself for being so foolish. What was I thinking? He just turned down his friend. I wished I could disappear.

Just as I reached the stairs, I felt a hand on my wrist. I turned to see Henry, who released my wrist as soon as he had grabbed it. His touch was firm yet gentle, lingering on my skin.

"Um, I'll join you," he said, walking past me to the stairs and waiting for me to follow.

I followed him closely to the terrace. My jaw dropped at the beauty of the space-tables and benches scattered among a plethora of potted plants, creating a cozy, inviting atmosphere.

"Let's sit over there," I suggested, pointing to a table in the corner.

He nodded and walked over to the table. Being taller, he reached it first and pulled out a chair for me.

"Thank you," I said, sitting down and setting my bag on the table. I began unpacking the lunch boxes.

"Was someone else supposed to join you, or do you usually pack lunch for two?" Henry asked, eyeing the boxes.

"Uh, my friend was supposed to join me, but she had an emergency," I explained.

"Oh, sorry to hear that. But I'm glad she couldn't make it. Maybe it's fate," he said with a smirk.

"You don't seem like the type to believe in fate," I said, surprised.

"Everyone has their surprises. You never know what someone's thinking," he replied.

"Fair enough," I said, opening the box.

"Impressive," he remarked, looking at the food.

"I'll take that as a compliment. Enjoy your meal," I said, waiting for him to take a bite.

"It's good. Thanks." He says.

We silently ate the food I had prepared. From his expression, it was tough to tell if he liked it or not.

After we were done eating, I packed up the boxes and we went down together.

We took our seats, and the older couple from before approached us.

"You two remind me of us when we were your age-so young and in love," she said with a warm smile.

"Thank you. You're too kind," Henry replied from his seat before I had a chance to clarify that we weren't actually in love. That we had just met that day.

I decided to let it go when I saw Henry engaging with her. He had her sit down, stood beside her, and spoke animatedly. His smile was the most genuine I'd seen all day. I couldn't help but admire him until Will instructed everyone to take their seats, and Henry returned to his own. We began painting.

I picked up my palette and started enthusiastically mixing colors, not exchanging any more small talk with him for over an hour.

I was almost finished when Henry coughed, drawing my attention.

"Are you almost done?" he asked.

"Almost. What about you?" I responded.

"Yeah, I'm done," he said, and I returned to my painting.

Fifteen minutes later, I finally completed my work. I stretched in my chair and glanced at Henry, who was already looking at me. His intense gaze made me blush slightly.

"I'm done with my painting," I said.

"Can I see it?" he asked.

"I'm not that great at this, so please don't judge too harshly!" I said, feeling a bit flustered.

"It's okay. I haven't painted in years, so I'm in the same boat," he reassured me, and we turned our paintings to face each other simultaneously.

I gasped when I saw his painting of me. It was stunning-vivid and full of color. He had avoided neutral tones entirely, while my painting of him was much more subdued in comparison.

"It's beautiful," I said, smiling. "I've never seen anyone use these colors for skin tones and shades before. It's so creative and pretty."

"Thanks. Yours is nice too," he replies, his tone friendly.

Suddenly, a thought hits me. I need a plus-one for the wedding and have no one else to ask. Might as well take a chance.

"Hey, are you free this weekend?" I ask, trying to sound casual but serious.

He raises an eyebrow. "I'll need to check my schedule. Are you asking me out on a date?"

"Um, sort of. Technically yes," I admit, feeling a bit flustered.

"I need a date for a wedding. We'd just have to pretend we're in love for the evening. I can pay you if that helps."

He chuckles, the sound warm and inviting. "How much are you willing to pay?"

I pause, taken aback. He doesn't look like he's in financial need, but appearances can be deceiving. After a moment's thought, I respond, "How does $15,000 sound?"

His eyes narrow with interest. "I don't want money. I'm looking for something else."

"What is it you want?" I ask, curiosity piqued.

He leans back, a playful glint in his eye.

"I'll tell you once my work is done. If you can't meet my request, then I'll take the money."

I weigh his words, trying to read his intentions.

"Alright, I guess we have a deal. Let's talk more about this once you're free."

He nods, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Sounds good. I'll let you know once I'm done with my work."

As I watch him walk away, a mixture of anticipation and anxiety churns in my stomach. What could he possibly want that's worth more than $15,000? And more importantly, am I prepared for what's to come?