Page 32 of Neptune

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LUKE

Seven years ago

T he day after, the weather was different. The air was still a bit cool, but the sky was bright and blue. The sun warmed the town as it cast its rays.

I didn't know what the hell I was doing, but I must have been crazy, because right at that very moment, I was arranging Victor's equipment to paint the lake and mountain view before me, joining real artists who were making their masterpieces in this public space.

I placed the wooden table easel in front of me, put the canvas in place and sat on the stool.

Wait. Since when could I paint? Was I not a terrible painter?

The hell with that. Taking a deep breath, I took the brush and dipped it in some color, but before I could touch the canvas, I stopped.

Victor had said that painting made him calm. He'd said that it didn't matter what my painting looked like—because no matter what I created, it was art that only I myself could understand.

I wanted to be calm today, so I'd decided to give this a shot. But now that I stared at the blank canvas before me, and even though I was surrounded by this breathtaking view, I didn't know what I wanted to paint.

I didn't know what could make me calm the restlessness in my heart. I didn't know what I should do to make all the problems in my life feel like they were vanishing .

And then I realized that I was doing all of this because I missed my brother. I just wanted to know what he was feeling when he did this.

I wanted to experience what he loved to do. I wanted to be in his favorite place in the world. I wanted to feel his happiness when he was swept away by his own imaginary world as he swiped his brush on the canvas.

While I was lost in my thoughts, someone put money on the wooden easel. Startled, I looked up.

It was the girl from last night. She was wearing a creme wool sweater, jeans and a pair of brown boots, letting her long wavy chestnut hair loose.

"I want myself painted with that background." She pointed at the hills and mountain, the same cheerful voice I heard last night echoing back in my ears—only now, it was the sober version.

What the fuck?

Without waiting for my response, she giggled and settled herself on the bench in front of me, pointing again at the view she wanted to have as the background.

My jaw dropped. I snapped my head toward the real artists next to me. Indeed, some of them were getting paid for drawing or painting their customers.

But I was no real artist. Hell, I couldn't even remember the last time I'd painted.

But the stupid girl in front of me looked damn excited as she sat on the bench.

Should I paint her? She might faint when she saw the result later.

My gaze darted to her as she turned her head, giving me the perfect angle for her side view. She closed her eyes, enjoying the wind as it caressed her long hair.

It was the same expression that I'd seen last night. The same contentment. It was as if she was breathing freely after being caged for a long time, like she was a bird who recently learned how to fly .

When she opened her eyes, a small smile tugged at her lips. And I didn't know how this happened, but I couldn't stop staring at her.

The brush in my hand was still frozen on the spot, unmoving.

I should have been drawn to the view behind her—the magnificent mountain, the beautiful hills and the unique village resting on them as well as the bright and never-ending blue sky. It was all like a paradise, just like Victor had told me.

But I was not. I was drawn to her. My breath caught in my throat. My gaze darted to her enchanting chocolate eyes. Her long and thick eyelashes. Her small and pink plump lips.

The steady rhythm of her chest heaving up and down as she breathed sucked the air out of my lungs—I didn't know how such a view could pain me. It was fulfilling, but it was so beautiful that it hurt too.

I still hadn't started painting.

Five minutes.

Ten minutes.

15 minutes passed. Still, I couldn't paint her.

Before I knew it, 30 minutes had passed, and I still hadn't painted anything. But strangely, I didn't feel the same restlessness that had haunted me half an hour ago.

The girl finally looked impatient. Irritation skated on her face, and she approached me. "Are you done?" she asked, unable to hide her annoyance—she must have been really tired from maintaining the same posture for that long.

When she noticed the blank canvas, she gasped. "Where's my painting?"

I scoffed, making her snap her head toward me. "Sorry. I'm not a professional artist. In fact, I don't even paint."

She stared at me in disbelief, still open-mouthed. It wasn't my fault, anyway. No one asked her to approach me.

"You just wasted my time." She gritted her teeth, snatching her money back. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? Do you think that it was okay to make fun of me like that? "

I smirked. "Come on, you were enjoying the beautiful view."

So was I.

She pursed her lips, still glaring at me.

"Come on. I'll make up for it," I said.

She looked at me with wonder, frowning.

"How about some lunch?"

She stared at me, dumbfounded. She might have thought I was crazy. I couldn't say that it was the best pick-up line.

No . I actually, genuinely, felt sorry for her, so I wanted to make it up to her.

"Lunch?" she asked me in disbelief. "No way. Why would I go eat with a mean stranger like you?"

I wanted to laugh. I stood up from the stool and extended my hand to introduce myself. "I'm Luke. I'm from New York. You're American too, aren't you?"

She looked at my hand but didn't shake it. She didn't bother to introduce herself in return.

I see . Being extra careful, wasn't she? It was ironic that she seemed to forget all about being careful last night.

"You know, there are some nice restaurants around here," I said. "Have you tried the nearby cafe that has salmon pasta, blackened trout and pork schnitzel?"

The way she swallowed made me wonder whether she was actually very hungry. She might be. Judging by the cheap place she was staying in, it didn't look like she could treat herself to some of the best meals in this town.

I got her .

"Come on," I said. "I'll treat you. You can choose any dishes you want."

Her lips were still pursed—she looked like she still hated me. But the options that I was offering her seemed like they were torturing her just as much.

"Still not interested?" I asked with a playful tone. "Very well." I turned away from her, and that was when she finally spoke again .

"Wait," she exclaimed, making me turn to look at her again, amused. "Are you really going to let me eat those foods for free?"

A deep chuckle left my lips. "Trust me. You can try all the dishes there until you're satisfied, without having to pay a single damn cent."

She swallowed again.

"What are we waiting for?" I smirked, pushing my hands into my jacket. "Miss...?" I asked for her name, looking into her eyes.

"Cassandra," she finally said, her voice small.

???

We ended up in a simply furnished cafe with a cozy atmosphere and a beautiful view of the lake. I'd never seen someone eat so eagerly, like she was eating her last meal on earth.

She literally devoured all the foods that I ordered for her.

Damn . She must have been really hungry.

"Are you always this hungry?"

"I am extremely hungry right now," she said, her eyes still not leaving her plate.

"Besides, just like you said, the food is delicious.

And," she paused as she took a gulp of her orange juice, "it's been ages since I could eat whatever I wanted without having to be punished afterward. " She blurted that out.

I didn't think that she even realized how strange her sentence was. I frowned. What was she talking about?

Can't anyone just eat whatever and whenever they're hungry?

" So, Cassandra..." I began.

" Cassie ." She looked up at me, still munching her food.

"Right, Cassie ," I said.

Wow . That was a change. I guess the food had indeed made her happy, enough to warm up to me.

"Where are you from?" I asked. "I know that we're from the same country. But, which part?"

"I just moved to LA with my stepmom," she said nonchalantly .

"Why are you here?" I asked, still curious as to why a naive girl like her suddenly decided to wander alone in a random city far away from her home.

"It was my ultimatum," she said, the dining utensils dropping onto her plate as she finally finished her food.

"A what?"

She gulped her orange juice again and huffed.

"My ul-ti-ma-tum ," she emphasized the word.

"My stepmom wants me to make a really big decision, and so I told her that I wanted a vacation alone to clear and refresh my mind first. Unfortunately, my budget isn't good enough for me to experience everything around here—although she did help me top up some money to buy the plane tickets.

But gosh, isn't this place amazing? The view is breathtaking.

Absolutely phenomenal," she exclaimed, excitement in her voice.

My eyes drank her happiness. Her energy made me feel like I was experiencing the same joy. "Why Hallstatt of all places in the world?"

"Because this is one of the most beautiful places to spend winter." She grinned. "And I love, love winter. I love the snow."

Again, I stared at her with amusement. She was talking like a kid.

"What's this big thing your stepmom wants you to do that made your wish of coming to Hallstatt come true? I bet that it has something to do with college," I guessed.

Surprisingly, she shook her head, signaling that the answer was wrong. "Nah, it's not about that. I don't think that I'll go to college even though it's the time for me," she said, her voice low as she looked down, and I suddenly had the urge to find out what was bothering her mind.

But of course, she wasn't ready to open up to a stranger, so I left it at that. However, I was right about her age. She might have just graduated high school.

"What about you?" She smiled, resting her chin on her hands. " Are you in college or something?"