Page 19 of Rivals
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I wake up and practically launch myself out of the bed that I never want to be in again. Lachlan doesn’t stir despite my movements. I look around for my sweatshirt that I must have pulled off sometime in the night. Luckily, I’m otherwise fully clothed.
Art and its creation have a funny way of bringing out deep desires. They may be things that you never want to tell anyone about, let alone explore, with the person you’re not sure you can trust but wonder if you can. Yep, locking that one away.
I grab my bag and gingerly try and go for my shoes so I don’t wake him up and can slip out. Then my feet halt, and I swear I’m still high. I have to be high because…the painting that caught on fire doesn’t look like it has a single piece of ash on it. It’s waterlogged and ruined, but the wax and the acrylic stayed attached for the most part.
I tilt my head, staring at it down on the floor. I knew taking more OBA was a bad idea, but now I’m regretting it. This is not possible. It’s just not. I’m afraid to take a step closer, but I do because curiosity wins.
I’m not sure if we finished the painting last night or this morning. It’s still drying on the easel. I take my eyes off the strangely unburnt painting and stare at the new one on the easel. It’s better than our first one, it’s captivating. I can’t stand that we made it together. We used a similar process but took it in a different direction, using wax first. As I stare at it longer, I see it. The wax lines look like two heads, lips press onto the outline of a forehead, no other details. Then, either side of the work is filled in with acrylics and watercolors. I hardly remember doing it, but I remember knowing those colors had to go there. It’s all cool tones in the center, where the lips meet the forehead, and it’s bright and white with a touch of yellow. Some purple seems to have bled into the white, but it’s still beautiful because it turns into a light lavender.
I look back at the first painting and nervously pick it up to inspect it. We must have been very high, like out-of-our-minds, obliterated high. I thought it was on fire, but obviously, Lachlan did, too.Weird.
Maybe it’s for the best, though. The second piece is unique, creative, and honestly better than the first. It stirs something in me that I don’t understand. It makes my heart hurt, and I simultaneously want to lash out. I made this with Lachlan, not on my own, and for some reason, that pisses me off. I almost want to destroy it so no one else can see it.
I stop myself because that would put us right in the same position. We present tomorrow, and we are out of time. This is still drying with the thick swatches of acrylics that we used to create additional texture and depth. There is no time for anything else, Revna.
“Revna?” I jump at his voice and grit my teeth at the same time. I would have been long gone if I didn’t see what I did. Maybe I am still high? Maybe it’s like that other time, and maybe OBA does sort of work like LSD. It can spring up in your mind at any point because it is stored in your fatty tissues or something.
I lift the first painting and turn to show it to Lachlan. “Do you see this?”
“What the—“ Lachlan launches out of bed, shirtless, might I add. I don’t remember that either.What else happened?
“How is this possible? This is a joke, right? You’re messing with me,” Lachlan says in an almost panicked tone. I don’t respond right away, because as he has said many mind-numbing times, he doesn’t trust me. He flips the large canvas back and forth, inspecting it. “Did you do all this last night? How did you get rid of the other one then?” He asks, confused.
“I…I didn’t do anything, Lachlan,” I say the words carefully. I’m a little afraid he will freak out. I’m freaking out myself.
“What do you mean you didn’t do anything? I mean, I know you’re good, but come on, you can’t be that good,” he says.
“You think I’m a good artist?” He rolls his eyes and waits for me to answer his question.
“I woke up and I saw that.” I point to the canvas in his hand. “I’m as confused as you are.”
“The only thing that makes sense is we were high off our rockers. I’ve never hallucinated that vividly before. That’s a little…” his voice trails off.
“Scary?” I offer. He nods and continues to stare at the piece.
I need to get out of here.“I’m going to go,” I mumble to Lachlan. He looks away from the first painting and stares at me. His gaze is so intense it almost burns. He looks at the second painting and tilts his head a little like I did. He sees it, too, and I don’t think either of us intended for that to happen. It just did. That’s the only explanation that I can come up with. Our high minds chose for us. The voice did, too. I grit my teeth and tell the voice and myself to shut the hell up.Maybe I’m schizophrenic?
“I’ll bring this to the presentation tomorrow. I want to make sure it cures.” I nod and turn to leave.
Before I grab the door handle, I wait. I don’t know why, but I want him to say goodbye. But nothing comes, so I throw the door open and leave him staring at our drug-induced artwork.
My body shakes, and the chills have set in. I may have slept for a while, but there will still be hell to pay for the extra dose as the drugs flush out of my system. I hug my arms closer to myself as I trudge down the street to my building. I really hope my roommate isn’t there because I have a feeling I will be hugging the bowl for the foreseeable future. I don’t remember the last time I ate, either. I don’t remember a lot of things from the last forty-ish past hours.
I am aware thatshouldmake me nervous. The only thing I am sure of is Lachlan, and I didn’t do anything except that one kiss. I would remember if we did. I shake my head to rid myself of the way his lips felt on mine. But then it feels like my brain is hitting the sides of my skull, making the pounding headache grow.
It feels like reality, or my concept of it is slipping. I don’t know how to describe it because I barely understand it myself. It feels like everything happening around me is falling through my fingers like sand.
My phone buzzes with a text from Lachlan. I don’t remember giving him my number. I still have a few hours to sleep this off and then get to the diner for work. Maybe I’ll go early and see if I can eat something. Though I’m not sure, I could stomach dry toast right now. I gag at the thought and focus on putting one foot in front of the other, ignoring the text.
Chapter 17
Lachlan
Thedoorslamsandechoes in the loft, making my head pound harder. I look back at the painting on the easel and then study the piece that should be burnt to a crisp. None of this makes sense. Goosebumps rise on my skin. I don’t like it in here, and it needs to go. I grab it and storm out of my apartment and down to the dumpster. I break it in half and leave it there to rot.
I’m not sure what happened. I didn’t think we were tripping that hard, but I can’t discount the possibility either. All I knew was I sensed something odd about it, and it needed to go because I didn’t want it around me.
