i was pacing back and forth in my house, trying to figure out why i was so fucking nervous about this. it was just an art showcase. i've been to events way bigger than this. and yeah, it wasn't like imogen was expecting me to do anything other than show up, but still, there was this weird pressure in my chest. like i had something to prove.

i wasn't even sure why. maybe it was because she was so... different. different from the people i usually found myself around. she wasn't in it for the attention or the glitz. she didn't care about all that stuff. her art was something she put her whole heart into. you could see it in her work, in how she talked about it, and how her eyes would light up when she explained her process.

that's what drew me in. that warmth she had. that effortless positivity. she was sweet, almost too sweet, like she didn't have a clue how the world could eat you alive if you let it. but maybe that was why i kept finding myself drawn to her. i'd been through the wringer enough times to know that someone like her... well, someone like her didn't belong in the same circles as someone like me.

i sighed, grabbing my keys and coat, ready to head out. "just go, louis. it's fine. it's just a fucking art showcase."

still, as i got into the car, i couldn't shake that odd feeling. something about this girl was different, and it was messing with my head.

when i arrived at the gallery, i spotted her immediately. she was standing near the entrance, greeting guests with that bright smile of hers. she was in a sleek black dress, classy but not overdone, and i couldn't stop my eyes from lingering. she looked stunning. i had to remind myself to stop staring like an idiot.

as i moved through the crowd, trying to keep a low profile, she caught sight of me. her face lit up like she'd just seen a mate she hadn't seen in years, and she started making her way toward me.

"you actually came!" she said, beaming.

"told ya i would, didn't i?" i said, shoving my hands in my pockets, trying to seem casual.

"i didn't think you were serious!" she laughed, her voice full of surprise.

"i'm a man of my word," i said, leaning in slightly. "plus, i wanted to see what all the fuss was about. this place is packed."

"i'm just hoping someone actually buys something," she admitted with a nervous smile, her hand brushing back a stray piece of hair.

before i could reassure her, phoebe and daisys voices carried across the room.

"louis is here!" phoebe called out, loud enough for half the gallery to hear. "he cares about someone other than his family!"

"unbelievable, innit?" i shot back, rolling my eyes. imogen just giggled, and it was hard not to feel lighter around her.

"ignore them," i muttered, shaking my head. "they've got nothin' better to do."

"i think it's sweet," she said, still grinning.

"that's 'cause you're too sweet for your own good," i teased, nudging her playfully.

her cheeks turned a little pink, and i couldn't help but smile at that. something about her innocence, her genuine kindness—it made me feel like a better version of myself. or at least, like i wasn't such a jaded bastard all the time.

the night went on, and we stuck close, chatting between the guests that filtered through. i noticed the two paintings still left on the wall near the back. she kept glancing at them, biting her lip like she was worried no one would buy them.

"those last two are brilliant," i told her, nodding toward them.

"you think so?" she asked, hopeful but still doubtful.

"yeah, they're personal. you can tell. that's why they're worth it." i was sure of it. but when she looked away, unsure, i knew i had to do something. so, while she wasn't paying attention, i pulled out my phone and quickly texted my assistant.

buy the last two pieces under the name henry watson. don't let her know it's me.

i wasn't doing it for any other reason than to support her. hell, she'd probably be pissed if she found out i was behind it. but the truth was, i wanted her to feel like she'd made it. like her work meant something. because it did.

"thank you for being here," she said, pulling me out of my thoughts. her voice was softer now, and she looked at me like i'd done something important just by showing up.

"told you i would," i said again, but this time, it felt different. like maybe i was saying more than just that i kept my promises.

we stood there for a while longer, just talking. and it was easy. too easy. she was so bloody sweet, always smiling, always positive. i found myself leaning into her warmth, even though i knew i shouldn't.

the night wrapped up with a small after-party. nothing huge, just a few people lingering around, drinks in hand, and the buzz of the gallery still hanging in the air. phoebe and daisy were already planning something ridiculous, as usual.

as people started to leave, i caught imogen giving the gallery one last look. she seemed tired but happy. i had to hand it to her—she'd pulled it off.

"we're doing an after-party, addy, come on!" imogen shouted from across the room.

imogen shot adelaide a look, and she just smiled. "you go ahead. it's been a long night for me."

"you sure?" imogen asked, not really wanting to leave her behind.

"yeah, i'll be fine. thank you again, for coming."

"wouldn't miss it," she said, meaning every word.

as we left the gallery and got into the car, i checked my phone. the paintings were marked as sold under henry watson. she wouldn't know it was me.

"fuck," i muttered to myself, realizing what i'd just done. i wasn't supposed to feel like this. not about her. but here i was, completely caught up in her world.

shit. i was down bad.