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‘What themes are you two focusing on for your project again?’ Juniper asked.

‘Fashion and textiles for me,’ Tilly said. ‘Trains for Owen.’

‘Oh. That will be an interesting mix.’ She turned to Aiden, jabbing him in the side. His skin smarted as though she held a hot poker. ‘In fact, I wishyouhad an interest in trains. Those would be fun to sculpt!’

‘Well, I’m sorry to burden you with my boring art.’ He couldn’t help but squeeze her hip, where he’d learned she was ticklish. She yelped out, slapping him away, but the corner of her mouth rose in a half-concealed smile, and he knew he was doing something right. Helping her relax again after what had probably been a shitty day.

‘Seriously, guys. I’ll vom if you carry on,’ Tilly said. ‘Remind me why you’re not actually dating again?’

‘Because we don’t like each other,’ Juniper was quick to reply.

‘Shedoesn’t likeme,’ Aiden corrected. ‘I’m indifferent.’ He was surprised at how smoothly the lie fell from his mouth, though it didn’t seem to convince anyone.

‘Yeah, right.’ Tilly ushered them towards the steps. ‘Let’s just head to the exhibition before you start ripping off each other’s clothes, yeah?’

Owen scratched his head as though he couldn’t understand any of it, which seemed fair. They followed the tall staircase up to the second floor, joining the lines of visitors that meandered into the several open exhibition rooms. Tilly and Juniper began chatting about something Aiden couldn’t keep up with,leaving him and Owen to trail behind like lost puppies.

Owen took off his glasses, cleaning them with the corner of his sleeve. ‘So, Aiden. Who is your favourite artist?’

He hated that question, mostly because his answer changed depending on where he was with his studies. His father had trained him to approach art critically, which meant that, for a while, it wasn’t always something to enjoy or admire; rather, something to make money out of. If he was painting, it had to be perfect, too aware of all the mistakes that could cheapen a work. Then, at A-level, the theory side had become a requirement, packed full of essays and research that, at least back then, only felt like a way to restrict and dilute his practice.

Now, it wasn’t either of those things. Sometimes, it wasn’t anything at all to him. Sometimes, it was the reason for every terrible thing he’d ever felt.

‘Well, I’ve always found William Blake’s work fascinating,’ seemed like a safe enough answer.

‘Ah, yes. I’m a fan of his poetry, too.’ Owen nodded, then eagerly bounced on the balls of his feet. ‘I have to ask: what is the most famous painting your father has ever sold?’

Aiden’s molars scraped together as they reached the final few steps. Another reason why he was so unsettled here: he couldn’t enter a space like this without being reminded of his father, one way or another. ‘I’m not sure. You’d have to ask him.’

‘Have you ever gotten to work with him? I’m sure he’s shown you the ropes,’ Owen continued obliviously. ‘What about the artists he works with? Have you met anyone famous?’

‘A few times,’ Aiden muttered vaguely. His lungs grew tight and he couldn’t keep from feeling like he would always be trapped this way, no matter how far he tried to run.

His surroundings became a blur, heart pounding too quickly for his body to register anything else. Jesus, he hadn’t had an anxiety attack in a while. Not like this. He stopped at the top of the steps, leaning against the railing for support and willing himself to calm down.Breathe. Count to five. You’re not in danger, for Christ’s sake. You’re fine.

‘Never mind artists.’ Juniper stepped between them, suddenly much closer to Aiden. He tried to hold onto the threads of her voice, tangled around the loud, reverberating din of the museum. ‘What’s your favourite mythological monster?’

‘Mermaids. I’m a simple woman,’ Tilly said. ‘Had a crush on Ariel from day dot.’

‘Erm, I like dragons, I suppose,’ Owen added, then cleared his throat.

‘Very cliché, both of you.’ Juniper gave them a disapproving tut. ‘C’mon. let’s educate you on the beauty of deadly serpent women.’

Tilly and Owen let her push them into the exhibition room. Once they’d headed inside, Juniper hung back, her focus sharp enough to whittle away at least some of his racing thoughts. ‘Are you okay?’

He forced a smile, wiping his clammy palms over the back of his neck. He was fine. He was here. He could breathe again. ‘Why? Worried about me, Hodge?’

‘God, no,’ she said, but the wrinkle in her facade didn’t ease. Still, she let it drop, that usual stubbornness forgotten somewhere,and he’d never been more grateful for its absence. Whether she knew it or not, she was doing him a favour, letting him pretend everything was normal. Like his gut wasn’t churning. Like he wasn’t seconds away from sinking into panic.

Like he wasn’t a complete and utter mess inside.

18

Aiden’s interest in art could never measure up to Juniper’s love of mythology. She led them around the space as confidently as a tour guide, pointing out the figures in every painting, tapestry, and ceramic piece. Most of it went over Aiden’s head, not because he wasn’t interested, but because it was difficult to focus on anything but the brightness in her eyes, the movement of her lips, and that snaking anxiety just beneath his surface.

For a moment, he wondered if he would fall short for this project. If the burden of his complex relationship with art would mean letting her down.

Stop. He mentally batted the thought away. He wasn’t doing himself any favours, but it was difficult not to get trapped in the cycle of terrible thoughts once it had begun.