Strings and Schemes

Chapter 20

I watch as he starts debating toppings with himself, a small smile tugging at my lips.

Maybe I don't have everything figured out. Maybe this project is a disaster waiting to happen.

But at least I'm not doing it alone.

He calls in reinforcements - Liam, Niall, Harry, and even Gemma show up to help me put the finishing touches on my pieces. It's almost opening time, and I am exhausted. I feel like I haven't properly slept in weeks, and like I'm certifiable.

By the time the cavalry arrives, I'm two seconds away from a full breakdown.

"Alright, what disaster are we dealing with today?" Niall calls as he strides in, carrying a six-pack of Red Bull like a first responder to an emergency.

Liam follows behind him, eyeing the absolute state of my studio with a deep sigh. "Raina, what happened in here?"

I wave a hand at the chaos—half-assembled sculptures, abandoned sketches, a welding mask hanging precariously off a chair. "Art, Liam. It's called art."

Harry saunters in next, sunglasses indoors because he believes he's that level of famous. "Well, babe, your art looks an awful lot like a crime scene."

I groan, rubbing my temples. "You're all useless."

"Oh, darling," Gemma claps her hands, stepping forward in a structured blazer that makes her look far too responsible for the rest of us. "If you called this crew for help, you knew exactly what you were getting into."

Louis flings an arm around my shoulders, dramatically placing his hand on his heart. "Fear not, love, for I have gathered a team of questionable but enthusiastic helpers."

"Emphasis on questionable," Liam mutters.

I exhale, stepping back to assess the unfinished pieces scattered around the room. "Alright. Since you're all so eager to help—"

"I never said that," Niall interjects, already cracking open a Red Bull.

I ignore him. "—I'm assigning you jobs."

Harry groans. "You mean we don't just get to stand around and look pretty?"

"Harry, you're literally holding a hammer," Gemma points out.

He looks down, surprised, as if he has no idea how it got there. "Well. That's new."

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Okay. Louis, you're helping me move the heavier sculptures into place."

"Finally, a job worthy of my immense strength."

"You're five-foot-nine on a good day."

"And yet, I carry this entire friend group on my back."

I roll my eyes. "Liam, you're helping me level out the lighting."

He nods, already assessing the overhead fixtures. "I can work with that."

"Niall—"

"Not touching the power tools."

"Fine," I sigh. "You're on music duty."

Niall salutes, pulling out his phone. "Ah, the most important role."

"Harry, you—"

"Babe, I'm best utilized as moral support."

"Harry, you literally own a business. You can hang things on a wall."

He huffs, as if I'm personally victimizing him. "Fine. But I demand creative freedom."