Page 1 of Rivals
Part 1
We kiss the way we fight.
Chapter 1
Lachlan
Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, but I’ll do it as many times as I need to get to you.
Thehumanbodyhasthe capacity for unimaginable agony. Physical pain is our body’s way of saying something is wrong, that something needs to change. Our nervous system works so that when it’s overwhelmed, it shuts the receptors off to our brain so we don’t feel it anymore. Emotional pain works similarly you numb out. But the difference with emotional and mental pain is the thoughts don’t cut off unless you kill them yourself.
My alarm goes off, and I stare at my phone, singing its tune as it echoes through my loft. It’s an open concept, and the bathroom is off to the side, being the only enclosed space. I flip on my back after shutting the annoying sound off and stare at the ceiling. I think I got about two hours of sleep. I couldn’t sleep, so I painted. Only then was I able to close my eyes.
Exhaustion has weighed heavy on me for a long time. It’s incredible what the body can do with so little sleep. Logically, I know it’s not healthy, and I know that I will crash. And it will probably result in another depressive episode or something of that nature. I figure it’s only a matter of time. Then, hopefully, the episode will be an all I want to do is sleep, instead of, I can’t sleep at all. One can only dream—ha. A car horn blares outside on the street below, pulling me from my thoughts. I need to be in class in thirty minutes.
It’s my senior year. I’m not proud of myself for many things, but I am proud of myself for this. I was able to pay my way through school after Dad disowned me. The only thing he gave me was this loft, purchased outright and then paid for my first year of school. The reason he did was purely because he thought I was going into a useful major, like business or engineering. I was the first son it’s what was expected.
That was many years ago. It’s taken me a while to get this far. I had to take semesters off to save and then go back. Luckily, this small school likes to work with its students, and I’m finally going to have a degree in fine arts. I’m twenty-nine years old, but I did it all on my own. Silver spoon be damned.
I come from one of the few New York elite families in this city, but wealth comes with certain expectations—your soul. I grab my coffee and protein shake from the kitchen, slamming the door closed behind me as I trudge down the stairs to walk the eight blocks to school.
The hot coffee slides down my throat, and the thick air of the city fills my nose like cotton. I’ve worked hard for everything I have, and it was worth it because it was the only thing that has kept me sane. I had a goal, and I committed myself to it.
I take a swig of my protein shake and swallow the cold anger with it. I try not to think about my father, Angus McKay, the great business tycoon head of the great McKay family. I haven’t seen them in years. I don’t know how my sisters are doing. I don’t know if my mom is still a shell of a woman whose life revolves around my siblings and her charities. My father doesn’t pay any attention to her. I was the first McKay kid. A nanny raised me. My parents were still young and having fun. My sisters weren’t so lucky.
I cross the street, and a horn blows right in front of me as the yellow taxi cab screeches to a stop at the crosswalk. I glare at the man in the cab and continue crossing. A part of me wants to punch the hood of the cab, but I need my hands. My hands are my most valuable asset.
I have a few appointments later this evening for tattoos, and I don’t need to be doing it with bloody knuckles. It’s unprofessional and not really a good look. But it would feel nice, even for a second.
Shaking my head, I move past the thought and continue my trek down the street past the other busy people who won’t stop to look up. This city is a blessing and a curse. I am starting to hate it and usually want to leave every other day. But the life I have built for myself is here. Maybe after I graduate, I’ll travel the world with the ten dollars in my savings account. I could sell my loft. That would set me up for a bit. The world is full of inspiration, and I just need to go and see it. Maybe everything will change for me then.
As I stroll into my first class of the day, I spot her. I can’t stand her, but damn she is beautiful. Her thick black hair is thrown up in a top knot on her head, accompanying the scowl that typically sits on her face. It doesn’t matter where she is in the room. My eyes are immediately drawn to her. My body, too, but I ignore that. At the very least, I look at her and then force my eyes away. This time, I linger a bit. She’s wearing old sneakers, a hoodie that drowns her petite body, and baggy jeans with holes in the knees.
She sits at the side of the room, and her eyes lock with mine for a moment. My lungs seize before I break our connection. She has been my competition since day one, and we are the best in this class. I’m not saying I’m Van Gogh, but I have worked very hard to refine my craft. So has Revna. When we have gallery shows for our various classes or competitions with other schools. We always place first and second.
I can’t stand Revna Burke, but I can appreciate beauty for what it is.
And she is the most beautifully infuriating woman I have ever laid eyes on.
Chapter 2
Revna
Todayistheseniorproject announcement. It’s the only reason I’m here and not working a shift at the diner. I’m past the point where they would ding me for attendance. It’s a matter of turning in my finals and finally getting that incredibly expensive piece of paper.
I glance at the clock, and just when I thought it was going to be a good day, the bane of my existence walks through the door. I shouldn’t be surprised he is in this class, but a girl can dream. Our eyes lock, and I feel like I’m suspended in space and time. The light chatter of the room dies down, and all that is left is me and Lachlan McKay. He breaks eye contact, and then, like the subway rushing through the tunnel, everything floods back around me. He has had that effect on me since the first day of freshman year, and we have been competitors ever since. I can’t stand the man. He’s always so grumpy and surly. But so are you.
I have my reasons. I am older than a typical senior because I had to take semesters off here and there to pay for my degree. I guess Lachlan did, too, because we’re the same age.
Keep it together, Revna. Breathe.
I hate the term; keep it together. It implies that you had it all together at one point. Whateveritis. I don’t know. I don’t really think anyone does. It also implies that you’re able to juggle every facet of your life like you’re in the circus. I’ve never had it together. I’ve been surviving on the ramen noodles-because-that’s-all-I-could-afford type of surviving in this godforsaken city.
Professor Tate’s voice draws my attention from my spiraling, and I almost do a double take. The senior project is an artist’s dream. It’s a chance to be in the Modern Museum of Art.
The MoMA.
She goes on to explain that they will feature one student or team in all of New York City to be a part of this exhibit. All art students across the city will be vying for the spot. There are a series of five rounds that will weed people out, leaving only one winner.
