Chapter 17 — Sketchbook Hangover, Public Kisses, and the Accidental Fan Meetup
Narrator: After the emotionally intense art show, Noa tries to take a break from Reno by disappearing for a weekend art retreat.
Reno, being Reno, shows up anyway—dressed like a poet and pretending to be someone named "Lorenzo Sketchel." Meanwhile, fans from "HeartThrob+" mistakenly think they're filming a new series live, and the retreat turns into a chaotic fan convention.
Noa tries to resist Reno's charm and fails spectacularly—especially when forced into a public kiss demonstration on intimacy in art. The kiss? Real. The panic afterward? Also real. And when they finally escape, Reno asks her a question that changes everything: "What if I'm your real?"
---
The morning after the art show, Noa woke up with a hangover made of bubble wrap, regret, and too many mini-cupcakes.
Her phone was dead.
Her heart felt worse.
Reno was nowhere to be seen.
She stood in the bathroom, stared at herself in the mirror, and muttered, "I need a break before I start sketching emotional spirals again."
So she did what any emotionally repressed artist would do—she signed up for a three-day "Silent Art & Reflection" retreat in the woods.
No Wi-Fi.
No cameras.
No Reno.
Or so she thought.
---
The retreat center looked like a Pinterest board exploded in the forest.
Fairy lights. Yoga mats. Herbal tea dispensers.
Noa checked in using a fake last name ("N.A."), then turned off her phone and tried to breathe deeply.
She spent the first night drawing clouds, journaling, and successfully not thinking about Reno for six straight hours.
A personal best.
Then came Day Two.
And *he* arrived.
---
She was painting on the deck when she heard the familiar voice.
"Excuse me, where should I put my emotional baggage?"
She turned slowly.
Reno.
Wearing all black, a wide-brimmed hat, and round sunglasses.
Holding a canvas under one arm and a mug labeled *TEARS*.
"No," she said.
"Yes," he replied.
"Why are you here?"
"I signed up under a pseudonym. Lorenzo Sketchel. Professional muse. Hobbyist poet. Recovering sketch."
Noa blinked. "That's not even a real name."
"Exactly."
---
The retreat facilitator, a woman named Sunbeam, was enchanted.
"You two have incredible energy," she said, watching them squabble over seating cushions. "Would you mind leading our art & intimacy session tomorrow?"
"We're not—" Noa started.
"Perfect," Sunbeam interrupted.
---
Turns out, "art & intimacy" involved:
- An audience of 23 people on beanbags
- A demo easel
- And a prompt: *"Draw your partner's soul, then kiss them like you mean it."*
Noa tried to protest.
Reno whispered, "You can slap me after."
She gritted her teeth, grabbed a marker, and drew Reno's soul.
It looked like a mess of arrows, fire, stars, and... a loofah.
He drew her back.
His version was chaotic and gentle, filled with eyes and blooming flowers and a coffee cup with the words *"Too Soft, Too Sharp."*
The audience clapped.
Then came the kiss.
---
It started awkward.
Then it didn't.
It was messy.
Tender.
Too long.
Too *real*.
When they finally pulled apart, the audience had vanished in her awareness.
Only he remained.
---
Later that night, she sat by the campfire, shivering.
Reno found her.
"You okay?"
"I kissed you in front of strangers."
"And I drew your coffee soul."
Silence.
Then:
"You feel real," she whispered.
"I am."
"But you're not supposed to be."
He knelt beside her. "Maybe I'm not the distraction anymore. Maybe I'm the point."
She looked at him.
And didn't say no.
---
The next day, things got worse.
And by worse, she meant viral.
Apparently, someone at the retreat *had filmed the kiss* and posted it with the caption:
> "Lorenzo Sketchel and his mystery muse go feral at art camp."
It trended on HeartThrob+ within hours.
Fan edits poured in.
The retreat turned into an accidental fan meetup.
Someone brought custom t-shirts.
Someone else asked for a couple's autograph.
Sunbeam cried.
Noa nearly ran into the woods.
Reno just smiled like he was on the cover of a fictional adult romance manga.
---
By the final night, they were back in the cabin.
Packing.
Avoiding eye contact.
Then Reno asked quietly, "Are you still trying to run from me?"
She froze.
"I don't know," she admitted. "You're not supposed to be… *this much.*"
He took a step closer. "But I am."
A beat.
Then he asked, "What if I'm your real?"
The words hung there.
Heavy.
Hopeful.
Impossible.
Noa didn't answer.
She just grabbed his hand.
And didn't let go.
---
That night, they slept tangled together on the floor.
Fully clothed.
Fully confused.
Fully real.
---
Somewhere in the woods, a bird chirped.
A fan tweeted, *"They kissed for real. We all saw it. This isn't a ship. It's a damn iceberg."*
And in Noa's sketchbook, next to all the chaos and unfinished lines—
She added one tiny drawing.
A heart.
Split in half.
Held together by tape.
Labeled:
*"Lorenzo Sketchel was here."*