special. And the more I looked at him, the more I realized he was probably out of my league and I couldn't help feeling flattered. He was giving me his full attention, which was nice.
I told him how I loved painting and he asked if he could see some of my work sometime. I often felt shy showing people my work. Not that I wasn't happy with what I had created, but it felt so personal. I guess I was scared that if people didn't like my paintings then how could they like me? Scared of rejection I suppose, so I answered: “Maybe someday.”
“Someday soon I hope,” he replied and then continued: “I’m terrible at painting. I play a bit of guitar though, but I'm better at managing than being a rock star, so I leave that to the guys in the band.”
“Being famous is probably not all it's cracked up to be.
Finding a passion is what counts surely.”
He looked me in the eyes with a half smile and said: “You’re a very interesting woman.”
I giggled a little.
“OK, is that a good thing?”
“It’s a very good thing,” he said with a big smile.
We sat there talking for another hour about all kinds of things. We talked about Edinburgh and the band, about festivals, we even got to talking about life on other planets. It was easy to talk to Dave. Whether that was because he was good socially or because we just got on well, I couldn't tell, but I was guessing it was a mix of the two. I was really enjoying myself. The conversation died down a little and I decided it was time to go.
“I’d better head home, gotta organise myself for tomorrow,” I said and started putting on my jacket.