Page 31 of Monarch
We stand in silence until the lift arrives, and then I gesture for Roos to step inside before me.
As soon as the lift’s door closes, we turn to each other. There’s a single charged second of eye contact before her mouth comes crashing down on mine, and I push her body up against the mirrored wall behind her.
We kiss with nothing but pure greed and hunger. I grab handfuls of her and come up disappointed each time when they’re full of fabric and not her body. She cups my face and holds me in place while her tongue dives into my mouth again and again and again.
The ding of the lift arriving at my floor breaks us apart, and we share another look, this time a very sheepish one, our chests rising and falling together in a quick rhythm.
And then I move, dragging her by the hand out of the lift and down the short corridor to my room. I unlock the door, open it, and practically throw Roos inside. She doesn’t go far because as soon as the door is closed behind me, her hands come out and reach for me. And then there are more hungry kisses and greedy gropes as I take her jacket off and she kicks off her boots. Her hands come up to the sweater I have tucked into my high-waisted jeans, and she stops.
“Can I… Is it okay to touch you on your chest?”
“Today, you can touch me anywhere,” I tell her before tucking my mouth into the crook of her neck. “Please.”
“And can you…” She sighs as my teeth graze her smooth, warm skin. “Can you take control?”
I freeze, my mouth still and my breath held. I pull back so I can look in her eyes. “You want me to top you?”
She nods feverishly. Her eyes are fully dilated, and there’s a cute pink blush in her cheeks. “Is that okay?”
I suck in a slow, measured breath. It’s not what I want. I was hoping she could turn me inside out again like she did last night. After a day of small talk and networking and forcing smiles and often half-hearted compliments, I need somebody else to take the lead, to make the decisions, to make mefeel.
“I’m not sure…” I begin, but then I see the shadow of disappointment in her eyes, and I stop.
“Why don’t we take a breather?” I suggest instead. “Let’s sit down and just talk a bit. It’s probably what we should do first anyway, after what happened this morning.”
Roos’ shoulders sink with relief, and she smiles. “Yes, that’s probably a good idea. I don’t really know what came over me. I just saw you, and I…”
She doesn’t finish that sentence, but she doesn’t need to. “Same,” I tell her. “I just wanted you so much.”
The blush on her cheeks spreads, and she really does look like the name she chose for herself. A beautiful pink rose blossoming right under my gaze.
Leading her to the bed, we both climb on and rest our backs against the headboard, our legs extended and in less than two seconds, entangled.
“Before we talk, or do anything,” Roos reaches for my hand, “could we maybe agree not to talk about Lex. I just… I don’t want to. It’s too confusing right now.”
Xir name is like a thorn in my side, puncturing the floaty feeling I’ve been riding high on since I saw Roos downstairs.
“Fine with me,” I say and bring Roos’ fingers up to my lips. Maybe this is how Roos and I survive this – by just pretending xe doesn’t exist. “If it were up to me, I’d never want to talk about xem ever again.”
Roos blinks at me, her face momentarily void of any decipherable emotion, and then she smiles again. “Okay,” she says in a soft voice. “Now, tell me about your day.”
Chapter Thirteen
Lex
Ihold my breath as I unlock the two padlocks that keep my studio doors closed. Not that your average thief would even consider trying to break into this dilapidated space, one of many old factory warehouses in the NDSM Werf of Amsterdam North, an area that is only slowly being touched by the magic capitalist wand of gentrification. However, a criminal with an eye for modern art would have a field day behind these doors, which I now slide open with most of my muscle power. Because Lex Williams’ originals go for tens of thousands these days, and this high-ceilinged space is full of them.
It's been a long time since I was here last. Months. That in itself is not unusual. When I’m travelling or working on a group collaboration or simply busy with another project I started spontaneously in another space, I can go for months without stepping inside this studio I used to share with other artists but now can afford to keep just for myself. But these last few months have been different. Because while I have been travelling, I haven’t exactly been busy with other projects. Five months and three days. That’s how long it’s been since I made any kind of art, and that’s never happened before. Literally. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always been making something.
As a kid, it was the endless paintings and drawings my mum put up on our fridge. As a teen, it was filling sketchbooks with half-finished illustrations of monsters and ghosts and ghouls, and endless, endless doodles – anything that would keep my hand and brain busy. And in my adult years, I’ve been creating with moreintent and purpose. I’ve been creating with different materials – fibre and fabric often being my favourite – and I’ve always had more ideas than I’ve had time to execute them.
But five months and three days ago, that stopped. It was like my mind went blank, which in itself is not abnormal – I often have days after a busy period of work where I can’t even think fully formed thoughts, let alone summon creativity – but it didn’t resolve itself like it normally does. The ideas didn’t return. If anything, they drifted further and further away, like a bunch of helium balloons I let go of and couldn’t reach to snatch back. They were still there in my peripheral vision, but too far away to do anything with.
My artist friends tell me it’s normal. They say it’s “part of the process” and “don’t force it,” but it’s not that simple. Art is the one thing that has never let me down. Art gives me as much as it takes from me, often more. Art is how I make sense of the world. I don’t know who I am without my art.
Art feeds me, and right now, I’m starving.
And that’s the real reason I came back to Amsterdam. And back to Roos.
