Page 87 of Rivals
“Come with me. I have an idea.” He grabs my hand, pulling me back into the open loft. He drops his towel and pulls on some boxers. Then he throws a t-shirt at me. “Put it on, baby. You might—well, no. Maybe you should leave it off.” He throws me a devilish smile.
I roll my eyes and pull the shirt over my head. He saunters to the art space and flicks through the stack of old canvases. He pulls out a giant one that has some paint splattered on it. He lays it on the floor since it’s too big for the easel, then grabs a palette and a few tubes of paint.
“Resist the urge and let it out,” he says. I cross my arms and glance at the canvas.
“I don’t want to paint.”
“Because the block isn’t truly gone yet. It could be a while before then, and we don’t have that time, Revna.Try.”
I run my tongue over my teeth and go to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. I stare at the pot as it slowly fills. I glance over my shoulder and see Lachlan still standing where I left him.
“Revna, you have to do something. You’re clean now. Use it, and find a way to let it out. I know you can.”
I turn back to the coffee. It would be so easy right now to text my dealer. Screw Lachlan and this wholeexperiment. Everything about it would be more accessible. I can’t force whatever he thinks I need to force. It’s infuriating, and he has to know that.
“If you have something to say, then say it.” He’s stoking my fire, and he knows it. I don’t care because I’m about to burn him.
“You haveno ideawhat it feels like to refuse this urge to fade into nothing, Lachlan. You have no idea what it feels like to walk around in constant pain and not crawl into a ball, hoping you don’t wake up the next day. I don’t want to feel this way! I don’t want to live this way! It’s too hard!“ I yell.
“Thentell me, Revna! I can’t be there for you if you don’t let me. I know when you’re sad or angry. But, baby, I can’t do anything if you don’t tell me how to help you or what you need to make it better. And despite what you may think, I know exactly how it feels. It doesn’t matter if my reasons are different,“ he spits.
“What do you not understand?Nothingcan make this better! I am alone. I have nothing. I have no one! You’re here by default. My own mother didn’t want me! So much so she wrote me a letter on her deathbed to make sure I knew that! That kind of pain doesn’t just fade away, Lachlan. It stays there. It burrows deep down into your soul and starts eating at you from the inside out. It makes you crazy. It makes you feel utterly and completely worthless. And the sad thing is, I believe those words.”
“Show me, then. If it hurts that much, you should be able to put it out there so I can see what you’re talking about. If words don’t work, then this will,” he says resolutely despite his rapidly blinking eyes.
“You’re not going to let up, are you? You won’t just admit you’re wrong.”
His jaw hardens as he stares at me. “I’m not wrong. I’m here, and we will get through this. But you won’t if you don’t try.”
Fury, hot, and molten floods through me because it feels like he’s not listening to me. “You know what? Screw you, fine!” I stomp over to him, grab some paint, and squeeze it over the canvas. “Happy?”
“No, because that was a cop-out. You like to paint, so paint, Revna!” I angrily dip my hand in the jar of water and slap it over the paint, dragging my hand through it on the canvas. I make a zig-zag shape with the runny paint. He comes around to the other side and does the same thing. Only he does it with a little more finesse. For some reason, that makes me even more furious.
I grab another paint tube and do the same thing, only blending the colors. I feel like a child who’s finger painting. I grab a brush, mix it in the glob of paint, and then spatter it against the canvas. It justhappensto hit Lachlan, and he jerks back with his hand to his face. “Hey!”
“Whoops,” I say sarcastically. He grits his teeth, and I glare back.
“Stop,” he grits out. I lift the brush, and he glances between me and the brush. I slap it onto the paint, swirl it around to catch more, and then flick it at him. He growls and slaps his hand on the paint he was working with, flinging it at me. I grit my teeth and scream as the splatter hits me square in the face. I drop the brush, reach for another tube, and squirt way too much on the palm of my hand.
“Do it again, little bird. See what happens,” Lachlan says with a cold, challenging voice.
I stand, and he relaxes a little. Then I walk around the canvas and drop to my knees beside him. He looks at my hand with the paint.
“Is that a threat, Lachlan? Do you actually own up to your threats, or do you ignore the promises you made? Because last time I checked, you said you would buy me what I want if I didn’t like this.” I sweep my hands out.
“That’s not what I said, and you know it. Stop twisting my words,” he grits out.
“Or what?!” I yell.
“Or I’ll make you choke on them.” I huff a laugh and slap my hand to his cheek. It covers half his handsome, irritating face and drips onto his chest. I take the liberty of smearing it past his collarbone just because I can. He grunts and launches himself onto me, pinning me to the floor with a tight and slippery grip on my wrists.
My wrath is fading into lust, and I hate it. Although I’m pretty sure there is a saying about the line between love and hate. Right now, it’s transparent. Lachlan angrily looks at me while he squeezes my wrists. I try to wiggle out of his hold, but he has my thighs between his, and I can’t budge.
“Let it out for me, baby.”
“What?”
“I said, let. It. Out!” I glance at the door, knowing our neighbors likely don’t take well to all our…antics. I shake my head. “Why?” he asks, truly confused.
