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“That’s because they’re all incredible.”

A flicker of happiness gleamed in her eyes. She smiled at me with gratitude. I cradled her hands in mine, drawing her closer to me. I brushed a stray lock from her face, smirking at the goosebumps on her skin that formed from my simple touch.

“You always know how to make me feel better.”

As the weight of her insecurities lifted, I reached for the shirt I tucked into my back pocket. My old hockey jersey - emblazoned with my name and my lucky number twenty-one.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” I said, revealing the jersey to her. “The first game is coming up, and I’d love it if you could wear my jersey. It’s kind of tradition in the team.”

A smile spread across her face as she nodded eagerly.

“Of course.” She said, her voice filled with joy. “It would be an honour.”

With a burst of adrenaline, I pulled her into my arms, holding her close as our lips met in a tender kiss. Game nerves haunted my thoughts, yet I brushed them away and concentrated on the present. No matter the outcome, I could get through it all with her beside me.

??

31

“Nothing ever mattered to me more than this.”

Somebody To You, The Vamps

Sawyer

I stood before the easel, my gaze fixed on the blank canvas. My heart pounded with inspiration and determination as a million ideas ran through my head, but none stood out. This wouldn’t be a regular painting, something that I would make for the fun of it. It was my ticket to the most prestigious internship at an art gallery in New York. Getting the internship was a guaranteed acceptance into any art school of my choice. Landing the opportunity would mean smooth sailing during my senior year.

With the hands of a surgeon, I dipped the brush into a palette of colors. I executed each stroke with precision. My mind raced with inspiration and creativity, but self-doubt overshadowed it. Was this up to par? Could it be better? It needed to be the best.

I poured my heart and soul into the painting as I channeled my thoughts and emotions into it. Each stroke of paint added depth and purpose to transform it into a masterpiece.

I spent hours on it, but I felt as if I’d barely scratched the surface. My head tilted to the side as I took it in. As if my hands had a mind of their own and took the lead. Two figures stood at opposite ends of a bridge, with vibrant and unique landscapes surrounding each of them, creating the impression of a painting cut in half. In the background, behind the figures, were two sunsets, each casting its hue over the bridge. One moon symbolized a golden warmth, the other a serene darkness. Despite the distance, there was a magnetic pull in the middle of the bridge, bringing this unlikely pair to a crossroads.

“I’ve always loved watching you paint.”

I jumped at the sound of my mother’s voice.

“How long have you been there?”

“A minute.”

She stood in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the light from the hallway. Her movements were gentle and deliberate as she took a seat on the edge of my bed.

“I’m trying to make this as perfect as possible for the contest.”

I placed my brush on the table and turned to her. It was clear she wanted to talk. She only did this when she wanted to discuss something.

“I just wanted to catch up.” She said. “You’ve been busy.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” she said, placing her hand on mine. “I’m glad you have things going on.”

My corner lip twitched. She was referring to how much of a loner I was before we’d moved here. My paintings and books were the only companions I knew. Yet, as soon as I moved here, others drew me into their orbits.

“It is nice to have something of my own going on.” I admitted. “And not having to rely on Noah to go anywhere.”

She smiled before her eyes darted to my painting, and gazed at it as if she were a critic at a gallery.