Page 124 of Rivals
“Light?” I repeat. A weird anxiousness fills my limbs. I turn around in the circle of his arms to face him.
“That feels…”
“Oddly fitting?” he suggests. I hum in agreement against his chest. “I know, I thought the same thing. I’m afraid to say it, but it kind of feels like it’s meant to be.”
“We need to make something first,” I mumble against his chest.
“I know, but…yeah.”
“I love you, Revna. You know that, right?” I nod against his chest. “So, that means you can tell me everything, even if I don’t like it. Ok?”
My throat feels thick, and the words I need to say are stuck. So, I say all I can manage. “I love you, too,” I say into his chest. He squeezes me once more, and I fall asleep to his steady heartbeat in my ear.
Chapter 74
Lachlan
Two Months Until the Final Round
Revnaisalreadygonethis morning. I heard her get up and couldn’t get myself out of bed. I look at the cool sun streaming through the window. The overcast day feels like a light filter and mutes everything around it.
I keep thinking about the other emails I’ve got. I know she doesn’t check hers. We’ve been getting commission requests since we got back from Italy. I was planning on telling her when she got home, but when she didn’t come home at her usual time. I forced myself not to text her or call her. I don’t want to smother her. We may live together right now, but she is her own person. It made me nervous, though. The sun was setting, and she hated walking in the dark. So what was she doing? Where did she go? Did she go to her dealer?
I sigh and turn over so my back is to the windows. I decided to ignore the text from my dad. I didn’t respond, and I’m not going to. I would love to see my mom and sisters, but there is always an expectation attached. Yes, they have phones. Yes, I can call them. I did in earlier years, though they never seemed to want to talk. They gave me short answers and always made me feel like they didn’t want to hear my voice. It crossed my mind that my father may have said something to make them hate me. It wouldn’t surprise me.
Even if I did respond, I’m sure there is some kind of string attached to whatever he wants to say. I don’t want it, and I don’t need him.
My only goal should be focusing on Revna and me, adjusting to this life together. I want to focus on what we have on top of the competition. My father doesn’t belong in that picture, and I’m not about to paint him in it.
***
I had some appointments today, but they only took me a few hours. I’m back home and decided to sketch, hoping it jogs some ideas for our next work. I think we should bring it full circle and do a painting because that was our first piece together, aside from the ones we ruined.
I let my hand take over, and my mind rests in my work. The shape of Revna’s eyes starts to come together, the haunted yet happy look in them. I saw that a lot in Italy. I knew she was happier, but she was fighting tooth and nail to ignore her need to numb it all away. It’s never been easy, but coming from being numbed most of my life, I don’t want it again. Even if it hurts, even if it kills me. I wish she saw it that way, but she doesn’t. I know I can’t force it, either. I can only be there with her while she does.
I hear her key in the lock, and she opens the door. She’s in her diner uniform, and I can see the exhaustion on her face. We probably both need more sleep.
“Hi,” I say to her. She shrugs off her jacket, kicks off her shoes, and throws herself onto the sofa. I lift my arms, and her head lands on my lap.
“Hi,” she sighs.
“How was your shift?” I ask her. She nibbles on her lip and gets comfortable.
“It was fine. Betty asked a lot of questions I have no interest in answering.”
“You know she cares about you, right?”
“Yeah,” she sighs. I go back to sketching, angling the sketch pad to the side so it doesn’t hit her in the face.
“What are you making?”
“Take a wild guess, love.” I glance down, and she rolls her eyes, trying to hide the smile growing on her face.
“You just really like drawing me.” I shrug and draw the line of her lips. I glance down and check the shape to fix it. Her Cupid’s bow is every bit perfect on her thinner upper lip. But her lower lip is plump, and I like to bite it whenever I can.
“Do you have any appointments tonight?”
“No,” I mumble and look at her lips again. She purses them, and I flip the end of my charcoal pencil and trace them. Her eyes sparkle back at me, and I wonder if I could draw that.
