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 My Dirty Hot Angel

Episode 19

“That is some love story, Rosaline Reed.”

I chuckled a bit, not replying but inwardly agreeing with her assessment.

“I think so. I’ve never really been in love before.” I admitted.

She laughed, her pretty face lighting up in the early afternoon sun. “Lucky you. You didn’t have to go through a bunch of awful assholes before you found your Mr. Right.”

“Enough about me, what’s going on in your world? Is that gross guy still bothering you at work?”

Nora groaned, her hand running through her dark brown shoulder length hair. “No, thank God! He grabbed my ass the other night and Terry banned him from the bar.” She took a sip of her mimosa. “The fucking prick.”

She kept going, prattling on about her classes at college and the rebellious stage her younger sister was going through. And I let her. I loved hearing about her life. So full of love and color. Nora always seemed to be working on four projects on top of her schooling and work. I didn’t know how she did it. She was completely tireless, relentlessly ambitious, and totally amazing.

She was probably the most effortlessly cool person I had ever met in my entire life. Besides, Dex, of course. I silently prayed a little bit of her rubbed off on me during our time together.

After Brunch, Nora dropped me off at Dex’s studio, making me promise to check in with her every once in awhile so she could make sure “that fucking Casanova boyfriend of yours hasn’t killed you with the power of good dick.”

“Dex.” My voice held a sing-songy tone as I announced my presence in the warehouse.

“I’m back here, baby.” His voice came from a secluded corner of the studio, one he normally used to house unfinished paintings and other projects.

He was stationed in front of a large canvas, looking over the painting towards me. “Come here.” He beckoned me closer. “I want you to see this.”

The painting was beautiful, just as every piece of work created by his hands was, but it was the subject of the art that made me choke up. It was me. Kind of. The slate grey background of the painting held my face in the center. Both abstract and not, half of the portrait of me was covered in colorful brushstrokes; choppy, messy, and endlessly beautiful.

Dex had somehow gotten every detail of my face down perfectly while also transforming my likeness into something more extraordinary than I could have ever hoped to be.

I wondered if this was how he always saw me. If this was how he saw everyone.

The flood of emotions that filled me was unbelievable. I never saw myself depicted so wonderfully before. I never had anyone devote the time and effort into knowing me the way Dex had.

In that moment, filled with love and overflowing with wonderment at the man beside me, I could do nothing but tear up.



Watching Rosie try to hide her little sniffles had me cursing myself. Maybe the painting had been too much too soon. I put my heart, soul, and the entire extent of my feelings for her inside of the piece. I hadn’t expected her to see it so soon, definitely not while it was still unfinished, but I didn’t think viewing it for the first time would reduce her to tears either.

“Fuck!” I took her into my arms, bringing her head into the crook of my neck. “Don’t cry, baby.”

Rosie sobbed harder, her body shivering in my arms and her tears sliding against my warm skin. I tightened my arms around her and said nothing, waiting for her to calm down.

A couple minutes of vehement crying quietly turned into soft sniffles as she calmed herself down, prompting me to apologize.

“Shit, Rosie. I didn’t mean to make you upset. You weren’t even supposed to see the damn thing.”

It felt weird, apologizing for my art. It wasn’t something I ever did before and sure as hell didn’t plan on doing it again, but as it stood, I probably would have done anything to ensure the happiness of my Rosie.

She shook her head, her dirty blonde curls falling around her face. “No, no. I’m not crying because I’m sad, Dex.”

I was confused. What the hell else would she be crying for?

“I’m just…” she trailed off, looking up into my eyes, her pretty mouth curled into a small smile. “I’m really honored. No one has ever done anything like this for me before.”

I didn’t know what to say; it seemed almost impossible. Rosie was the most awe-inspiring person I had ever met, so full of mystery and goodness. It was hard to believe she had never been used as inspiration fodder by some poor asshole who had been knocked off of his feet by her presence.

I captured her again, wrapping myself around her, thankful that I hadn’t actually upset her. “What can I say, sweetheart. You inspire the hell out of me.”


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