Page 19 of Crystal Iris #1

Sixteen

“For me, painting is a way to forget life. It is a cry in the night, a strangled laugh.” – Georges Rouault

“ H ere,” he says, handing me the blanket he’s carrying.

“Thanks, it’s still pretty cold for spring,” I say, wrapping myself in it.

“Are we talking about the weather now?” he jokes, using my words from before.

“I could sense... something between you and Maeve. Did you guys... date before?”

“Something like that.”

I swallow.

Hoyt looks back at the house, and we see Akira and Broc laughing.

“They seem to get along,” he says, studying our friends.

“They really do. Is Broc single?”

“As far as I know.”

“Are you?” It was the whiskey asking.

“Yes, I thought it was obvious.”

“Well, with the things I heard... I wasn’t sure.”

“There is no one.”

“What about all the… women at the parties Lara mentioned? ”

“It’s expected for me to show up with somebody at those things.”

“So they are not dates?”

“A couple were, but mostly just models—they want to be in that kind of environment.”

I look up at the sky.

“You know, you never told me why you wanted to see me at the awards, upstairs.” He takes another sip of his glass.

I sigh. “I didn’t have something specific to tell you, I only wanted to… meet you.”

“Why?”

I take a sip from my liquid courage. He deserves to know.

“The first time I met you… it wasn’t at the balcony.”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw you… before.”

“Where? Another gala?”

“No, here.”

“What do you mean, here?”

“Here, this house.”

He’s looking at me, light reflecting in his eyes. “How?”

“The prism. Does yours do that?”

“Do what?”

“Transport you?”

“I don’t understand.”

I explain how it all happened.

“I thought I was losing my mind when I saw… the light. Like my… brother.”

I can see how he would think that.

“It was me, or… it…” I’m turning my pendant around.

“If I didn’t have a cursed prism of my own, I wouldn’t believe a word you’re saying.”

“You think… they are… cursed?”

“What else?”

“So yours doesn’t do that? ”

“No, I mean, I never tried on purpose... still, I’ve been around fire enough.”

“You have?”

“Well, lighters, fireplaces, occasional bonfires.”

“Hmm… does yours do anything else?”

“No, only the light and…”

“What?”

“My senses… are a little… different because of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s hard to explain… I’m still learning, getting used to it, even after all these years. I… feel more than everyone else.”

“Like you can hear, see better?”

“No, more like I can feel things others can’t.”

“Like a sixth sense?”

“Something like that.”

“Do you think that’s why when we touch…”

“Maybe.”

My body wants nothing more than to get closer to him.

“I should probably go to bed… The drinks…” I need to get ahold of my feelings.

“I want to show you something first,” he tells me.

We walk upstairs, passing by Akira and Broc comfortably on the couch watching a movie.

Hoyt’s bedroom is bigger than mine, with an entire glass wall overlooking the water. The slanted ceiling with its wooden beams makes the room look very tall. A thick rug frames the floor underneath a giant and comfortable-looking bed.

“Here,” Hoyt gestures for me to sit next to him. He hands me a small wooden box.

“Your brother’s prism,” I say as I look inside. “Should I... Can I?”

“I think so, I never feel anything when I touch it. It’s like it... died with my brother. Never saw a light in it again, even after I put it on, wetted it... nothing. ”

“You tried wetting it?”

“I was angry that it did that to my brother, I wanted to understand.”

The rectangular prism is held by a silver chain. I slide the bracelet on my arm, and like Hoyt, I feel nothing.

“I’m sorry about your brother, it’s horrible... what happened to him.”

“I wish I had reached for his prism instead of this one,” he says, holding his necklace.

I want to hold him, kiss him, take away his pain. However, all I can say is, “Maybe one day we will get answers.”

I close the box and go to sleep, in my own room .

I wake up to see a text from Hoyt: Coffee is fresh, I’m at the gym, come say hi.

I text him after pouring myself a cup. There’s a gym here?

Back door, left after the downstairs bathroom.

I open the door to find Hoyt and Broc lifting weights, shirtless.

“Good morning.” I startle as Akira’s voice comes from the other side; she’s on the treadmill.

“Hey! What are you doing here?”

“Mostly drooling. How did you sleep?” she asks me, slowing down her pace.

“Good, you?” I take another sip of my coffee, trying not to stare at the strong, half-naked men in front of me. I understand now why they look the way they do.

“Great.” She takes a sip of her water bottle.

I watch her. She’s in a great mood.

“Did something…?” I ask.

“Nope,” she says, speeding up again.

Broc is in his own world, doing push-ups in a corner, sweat dripping off his face.

“Good morning,” says Hoyt, taking off his headphones.

I smile at him. “Nice gym.”

“It’s handy to have a place to let out some… steam.”

I know what he means. It was hard to walk away from each other last night—from his bedroom, his bed .

Akira asks, huffing and puffing, “What’s on the agenda for today?”

“I have some business crap to deal with this afternoon. Do you guys want me to drop you off downtown? I’m going that way anyway.”

We say yes.

Whitefish is a picturesque town. The main street is lined with artisan shops, cozy restaurants, bars, and coffee shops. On one end of the street, I can see the mountains and a sign for the main resort. I’m sure it’s a great place to go skiing. The equipment stores are calling my name.

“So… what happened last night?” Akira asks, eyeing a couple of vases from Wildflower Ceramics , a local pottery shop.

“Nothing happened,” I tell her.

“I saw you guys going upstairs together.” She’s checking the price tags.

“Can I help you?” asks a middle-aged woman wearing an apron.

“Did you make all these?” Akira asks.

“Yes, all except those.” She points to a row of glass vases. “My daughter works with glass.”

“They’re beautiful,” I say.

“Thank you. Feel free to look around, and let me know if I can help with anything.”

“Nothing happened, and nothing could have happened, even if I wasn’t engaged,” I say, continuing our conversation .

“And why not?”

“We can’t even touch each other.”

Akira stops walking.

“Because of the burning thing?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

“Can’t you guys just take the necklaces off? For a little bit?”

“No, it doesn’t work like that. They feel… part of our bodies. It’s unbearable to take them off.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that before?”

“Because I didn’t want you to freak out. Anyway, did something happen between you and Broc? I saw you two having a good time when I went to bed.”

“No. He wanted to, but no.”

“You didn’t want to?” I ask as we walk out the door, bags in hand.

“We live too far apart. It would be… stupid.”

I pull out my phone to look for a place for us to eat lunch. There’s a text from Aaron.

I know why you’re there. With whom.

What? How does he know? He can’t know.

I quickly reply: I’m here with Akira, Aaron.

I show Akira my phone.

“He can’t know. He’s trying to bait you.”

“I’m not hungry anymore,” I say as we sit down at Fisherman’s Cove .

“Get an appetizer,” she suggests.

“Do you think Aaron is just being… jealous?” I ask her.

“For sure. How could he know?”

I sip my iced tea and nibble on the artichoke dip when my phone lights up.

Tell me Iris, do you think about me when you lick Locklear’s dick?

“Thanks, but you didn’t have to come back. We could’ve taken a cab,” Akira tells Hoyt when he arrives to pick us up.

“Of course not,” he says, opening the door for me.

We drive in silence.

I’m almost done packing when Hoyt knocks on my door. I quickly wipe away my tears.

“Iris, please tell me what happened.”

I sit down on the bed. “Aaron knows.”

“Knows what?”

“About us.”

“About us?”

“That I’m here, with you.”

“How?”

“I don’t know.” I’m trying to control my emotions, but I’m failing.

“Nothing happened, Iris, between us.”

“I don’t think he’s going to believe that.”

“That’s his problem.”

“No, it’s mine. Ours. I shouldn’t have come.”

“I thought you were breaking up with him anyway.”

“I was, I am... still, this is wrong. It’s all wrong.” My tears fall freely now. I’m angry, sad, but mostly ashamed.

“I can’t bear to see you cry because of him,” he says, taking a step back after taking two forward.

“And I can’t bear hurting him.”

Hoyt drops us off at the airport, and I barely glance at him when I say goodbye. The flight home is as painful as Aaron’s last words.

I drop my bags at my place and head straight to Aaron’s apartment. Akira calms me down on the flight, but everything rushes back when I open his door with my keys. I’m not even sure if he’s home. The door feels heavy as I push against something to open it all the way.

“Aaron?” I call as I lift a fallen chair.

The apartment is completely trashed.

I’m being careful as I step over broken glass when he walks into the living room. There are bags under his eyes. My heart sinks even deeper.

“What happened here?” I ask, taking in the wreckage; everything is broken or disheveled.

“You came back early,” he says, his voice slow and tired.

“We need to talk,” I tell him.

“There’s nothing you can say.”

“Aaron, nothing happened.”

“Really? You expect me to believe that?”

“It’s the truth.”

“So you’re telling me you went all the way to fucking Montana, and nothing happened?”

“Yes.”

“You lied to me.”

“I’m sorry, I?—”

“We’re engaged, Iris.”

“Aaron, I’m sorry, I should have?—”

“The worst part is that my mother was right all along.” He’s holding a picture.

I notice other photos on the coffee table. I walk closer and see that they’re of… me and Hoyt.

“What is this?” I pick one up.

“Proof.”

“You had me followed?” There are pictures of the airport in Montana, of Hoyt and me at the gala together, pictures of us at the museum…

“My mother did.”

I don’t have words.

“I thought I knew you. I defended you to her... for years. And she was right this entire time.”

“Aaron, no. She wasn’t.”

“How long?”

I don’t answer. I’m still staring at the photos of myself.

“How long have you been cheating on me?” he asks.

“I wasn’t, Aaron. I’m not.”

“You’re going to keep lying? You owe me the truth, at least.”

“Aaron, we just talked. That’s it.”

“You just talked? You just came back from his fucking house.”

“I know, I shouldn’t have gone.”

“You think?” He picks up a glass from the table.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve talked to you. I’ve been meaning to.”

“Talk to me about what?”

“The wedding, us… I can’t do this.”

I see tears streaming down his face.

“What are you saying?”

“I can’t do this anymore.”

“You’re breaking up with me? Because of what? That douchebag you just met?”

“It’s not about him.”

“Of course it is. We’ve been together since we were kids, Iris. Then you meet a guy, and what? We’re done?”

“Aaron, you know you’ve always been my best friend.”

We’re both crying now.

“I can… we can… work things out,” he says, stepping closer.

I back away. “Please don’t.”

“Iris, it’s me.”

“I can’t do this.”

“I’m not letting you ruin this. Us.”

“It’s over, Aaron. I’m really sorry.”

His face changes. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”

“Aaron, please, you need to… calm down. Hoyt has nothing to do with this. ”

He lets out a dark laugh. “Out of all the men in the world, you had to pick a client?”

“A client?”

“He didn’t even tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“Your lover’s money. I can make it… all go away… with just a few phone calls.”

“He invested with you?”

“Why else do you think he was at the parties, Iris?”

“Aaron, please don’t do anything stupid.”

“I want you to leave.”

“Aaron, we need to talk.”

“Get the fuck out of my house,” he yells, throwing his glass at the wall.