Page 119 of Destined Dawn
“It’s probably his porn,” Renzo calls out from the bed where he’s made himself comfortable beside Spencer, Pip splayed out across his lap as he gives him belly tickles.
“It’s not porn,” Tristan mumbles.
“Then what is it?” I ask, with a frown, attempting to dodge around him, now convinced it’s some elaborate plan he was working on to take me out back in the days when he wasn’t exactly being nice to me.
“I told you, nothing.”
“That’s really convincing,” Spencer chuckles.
“Tristan,” I say, “you can move or I can blast you with my magic.”
“You’re meant to be conserving your magic, remember what Azlan said.”
I place my hands on my hips and glare at him.
“Fuck it,” he mutters, rolling his spliff between his fingers and going to drop down on the floor next to the bed.
I’m a little shocked he caved in so easily and open the drawer with caution, half expecting it to be booby-trapped and explode in my hands. It doesn’t. It slides open easily and I stare down at the pad. Now I feel guilty. It’s his private property. I have no business rummaging through it. That guilt lasts two seconds, then I’m cradling it in my hand and flipping over the cover. I start at the front. The first page is a detailed pencil sketch of Tristan’s face. A self portrait. I snigger. I knew the boy was vain, but seriously?
“It’s notthatbad,” he mutters, puffing on the joint to get it to light.
“The drawing skills or the face?” I giggle.
“Both.”
“They are both very … striking.”
Tristan peers up at his friend. “Is that good?”
“Dude,” Spencer says, “I have no idea what either of you are talking about.”
I flip over that page and look at the next. Several light sketches of a flower, one I’ve seen growing by the side of the paths across the campus. The next one is a sketch of one of the suits of armor that stood in the Great Hall and another two of his face, then one of Spencer, followed by the academy mansion from the front.
He’s talented, very talented, capturing not only the dimensions and detail of buildings, but the personality and humanity of people too. I settle myself down on the desk chair, resting the book in my lap, completely absorbed as the aroma of weed, coffee and finally dinner fill the penthouse.
I’m waiting for all the pictures of half-nude girls, or most probably completely nude girls. Tristan’s slept with enoughof them. I’m sure they’ve been more than willing to pose for him. And if they haven’t, I bet he gets sent nudes daily.
I bet they’re kept at the back of this book. I shouldn’t look. It’ll only make me mad or jealous. But once again my self-control is pitiful. I flip to the back. I don’t find naked girls. I find myself. My face staring right back up at me.
I let out an involuntary gasp.
“What?” Azlan asks, placing a bowl of noodles down on the desk next to me.
“Look,” I say, holding the book up to him.
“That’s … beautiful,” Azlan says, “who drew that?”
“Tristan,” I say, jerking my chin towards his cousin.
“Let’s see,” Spencer calls.
I twist the book around and hold it up to him.
“Shit, man,” Spencer mumbles, “is there anything you can’t do?”
“Travel through space and time,” Renzo says, scrubbing Pip’s belly.
“Bet I could learn, though?” Tristan says with a lazy smile. Renzo snorts, Pip echoing him.
