Marking Territory
1158 Words
Evelyn woke to soft sunlight spilling through her windows and the fading scent of soy sauce clinging to her hair. Her studio was quiet, still carrying the warmth of last night—the laughter, the almost-kiss, the shared dumplings. She sat up on the couch, the blanket slipping off her shoulder, and reached for her phone. One new message.
Ryan: Last night was something else. Thanks for not kicking me out. Also, I owe you shrimp.*
She smiled, heart light. She typed back quickly.
Evelyn: Only because you’re cute when you’re unapologetically stealing dumplings.*
She hit send and let the silence return for a moment. Then came a reply:
Ryan: Dangerous words. I might show up with dumplings more often.*
---
Later that afternoon, Evelyn found herself back at the gallery. The high from last night’s event hadn’t fully worn off, and she needed to sort through a dozen emails, invoices, and a chaotic group of interns still riding their own adrenaline. Sofia handed her a coffee and a sly smile.
“You’re glowing.”
“Am not.”
“You are.” Sofia leaned on the desk. “Did our favorite tall, brooding legal advisor visit you last night?”
Evelyn hesitated, then shrugged. “He brought Chinese food.”
Sofia’s eyes sparkled. “You let a man bring you dumplings at midnight and didn’t throw him out? That’s serious.”
Before Evelyn could respond, the front bell jingled. She looked up, and her breath caught just a little.
Adrian.
He walked in with a confidence that always bordered on cocky, eyes scanning the space until they landed on her. “Hey, Evelyn.”
“Adrian. I didn’t expect you today.”
“I figured I’d come by and say thanks for the invite yesterday. The gallery’s incredible.”
Sofia gave Evelyn a questioning look and then excused herself. Evelyn smiled politely. “I’m glad you liked it.”
He leaned against the counter, eyeing one of the pieces still propped on a temporary easel. “I’ve been thinking about that abstract one. The one with the red and gold lines. It had... movement.”
Evelyn softened slightly. “That one’s called *Veins of the Earth.* It’s not for sale yet.”
“Still,” he said. “It moved me. You have a gift.”
“Thanks.” She offered a small smile. “Was there something else you needed?”
He hesitated. “Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to grab coffee later? Just as friends. I thought we clicked last night.”
Before she could answer, the bell jingled again.
Ryan.
He walked in with an energy that shifted the entire space. Conversation hushed around the gallery. A few heads turned. With his dark blue blazer, sharp jawline, and effortless charisma, he looked like a storm contained in a tailored suit. Even Sofia peeked from behind the desk, mouthing a silent wow to Evelyn.
Ryan’s sharp eyes quickly found her, but they flickered to Adrian. Evelyn noticed the recognition in both of their gazes. She had introduced them briefly before, and the tension now was unmistakable.
Ryan offered a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Adrian.”
“Ryan.” Adrian’s reply was cordial but tight.
Without preamble, Ryan walked over to Evelyn and casually slipped a hand around her waist, anchoring himself beside her like he belonged there. His fingers splayed gently across the fabric of her dress, a silent declaration.
Adrian’s expression tightened. “Well... I was just leaving. Let me know about the coffee.”
She nodded slowly. “Sure.”
As the door clicked shut behind him, Ryan turned toward her, his hand still lingering.
“You remembered him,” she said, searching his face.
“Of course. You told me he showed up at your place yesterday morning.”
Evelyn crossed her arms, her body unconsciously leaning into the counter. “Yeah. He said Sofia gave him my address. I wasn’t exactly thrilled.”
Ryan’s jaw tensed. “That’s crossing a line.”
“I know. I handled it. But still—it made me uncomfortable.”
He removed his hand slowly, but not before brushing his thumb lightly against her side. “You should’ve told me sooner.”
“I didn’t want to make it a thing.”
“It already is.” He exhaled, the edge in his voice softening. “I don’t like how he looks at you.”
“There you go again... why do I feel like you're jealous?”
“I am,” he said plainly.
She blinked, not expecting the honesty. “You know I can take care of myself.”
“I know,” he said gently. “But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to be the one who’s there for you.”
There was a pause between them. A hum of electricity. Then Evelyn cleared her throat.
“You didn’t tell me why you stopped by.”
He smiled slightly. “I had a meeting nearby and figured I’d drop in to see your beautiful face.”
She gave him a knowing look, trying to suppress a smile. “Charmer.”
He grinned. “Just stating facts.”
Evelyn shook her head but motioned for him to follow. “Come on. I’ll show you some new pieces I’ve been working on.”
He followed her past the main hall, down the back hallway lined with canvas frames and unfinished work. As she walked, he couldn’t help but admire the way she moved—fluid, focused, and unaware of how magnetic she was.
Inside the smaller studio space, she pulled back a white sheet to reveal a series of mixed-media works—emotional, layered, raw.
Ryan stepped closer. “These are incredible, Evelyn.”
“They’re a little messy still.”
“Messy is real.” He reached out, almost touching the edge of one canvas, but stopped short. “This one—it’s like... it’s bleeding and healing at the same time.”
She looked at him, surprised. “That’s exactly what I was going for.”
He turned to her, blue eyes intense. “You feel everything so deeply. It’s in every stroke.”
She met his gaze, heat rising to her cheeks. “It’s exhausting sometimes.”
“I bet,” he said, his voice softer now. “But it’s also what makes you incredible.”
The room fell quiet again, thick with something unsaid.
“So,” he said finally, his voice breaking the spell. “Can I take you to dinner tonight?”
She blinked. “Dinner?”
“Nothing fancy,” he added quickly. “Just... you and me. Somewhere quiet.”
She paused for a second, then nodded slowly. “Okay. What time?”
“I’ll pick you up at eight.”
And as he turned to leave, Evelyn found herself watching his retreating figure with a small, irrepressible smile.
- Writer
