Page 17

I see now that all of the paintings are painted in shades of grey, even though they are all very pretty. It’s amazing how all the paintings are painted in different shades of the same colour and are still so interesting.
I walk up to the wall and look at a painting of a girl. The girl is smiling and looks happy, but the painting makes me want to cry. I go to the next one. The painting shows a man whose features are similar to the girl’s, but his expression is different; he looks sad. There is a trail of tears on his cheek.
Some paintings are just plain sad. I see Austin looking at me with a curious look on his face.
I say, “They’re beautiful.”
He smiles proudly, and I do too.
“Why only shades of grey, Austin?” I ask.
Austin looks at a painting.
“All you see when you see darkness is grey.”
His words make me shiver. Then I remember something. This helped me forget my sadness. No, his sadness made me forget mine. It’s strange.
“Can I… Do you want to tell me what happened, bunny?”
“I-,” I take a deep breath. He tells me to keep going, and his eyes are so soft that I feel like I’m going to melt.
“I was three. I had this dance competition thing at school,” I say, taking a breath. “My parents were on their way. Then—”
He puts his arms around my waist and pulls me a little closer to him. I look into his brown eyes and feel better. The best shade of brown.
“On this same date, they got into a car accident,” I say. He pulls me close and I quietly put my head on his chest. His heartbeat makes me feel better, and I can feel mine beating in time with his.
He whispers, “I understand, bunny,” and then kisses my hair. A thing that makes me feel warm inside. No, he doesn’t get it. Not even one person can… unless he’s been through the same thing.
I dare to ask, “What happened to you? What made you like this?” as I pull away from him a little.
He clenches his jaw, and I immediately regret asking because I can see the pain in his eyes. It only lasted a moment, but it was clear.
“Oh no, he used my name.” That’s a story for another day, Lyra. That’s not good.
But that’s not fair.
He takes deep breaths, probably to fight his memories, and I feel terrible that I am the cause of all this. I hug him to try to calm him down, just like he always does. He puts his face in my neck and breathes deeply. My heart skips a beat.
We stay like that for a long time before the air gets charged. A hug that used to make you feel better suddenly becomes something else.
His eyes drop to my lips. When he leans in and closes the distance, I part my lips and close my eyes. I had wanted this to happen so badly in the last week. But his lips don’t touch mine.
He kisses the edge of my mouth instead.
“I really wanted to do this,” he says softly as he slowly moves down my neck. Just the sound of his voice makes me shiver. When he sucks on my neck, I hold on to him and a moan comes out of my mouth. He groans when he hears it and sucks even harder.
When he moves to a different spot, I moan again. When he bites my skin, my nails dig into his arms, and then he licks it to make it feel better. When he moves lower, my toes curl and I moan out loud.
The shirt I’m wearing is too big for me, and the first button is very low, which makes my cleavage very clear. That just gives him more room to lick, bite, and s**k.
He pulls away after a while, looking happy. My lips are still open and I’m breathing hard. He is shocked when I pull him by the neck for another kiss.
This kiss is hard and hurts, unlike our first kiss. At first, I try to take charge, but he bites my bottom lip. I like how he takes charge of the kiss; his tongue gets tangled up with mine, and I moan again. When I kiss him, I try to match his intensity.
We pull back to catch our breath, and I swear I’m red because of how intensely he looks at me.
He says in a deep voice, “I want to give you something.” He still has his arms around me, and I still have mine around him. People would think we were lovers hugging each other.
Yes, that’s right.
“Yeah?” My voice sounds breathy.
“I want to help you paint,” he says. I pay attention.
“Really,” I almost scream.
With a knowing look and a small smile, he says, “Yeah, I can see the passion in you.”
I’m so happy. I kiss his cheek again and squeal. I see that his eyes are getting bigger and his cheeks are turning a little pink, which is almost not noticeable. I take my hand out of the wrapping with a big smile, and he does the same.
“When do we start?” I ask, feeling great.
“Tomorrow, after school.” I smile at his answer because I can’t help but be happy.
“Do you have colours other than grey?” I turn to him. He nods and then goes to the cupboard to get all kinds of paint colours. A lot of different colours. As I walk to see them, my eyes sparkle and I stare at him in awe.
“Why keep these when you only use grey?”
“Because bunny, maybe one day I’ll start painting with other colours too.” He looks at me with a lot of intensity, as if it had something to do with me. That makes me turn away.
“So… after school tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“So, what you’re saying is that he kissed you and then didn’t talk to you for a week,” Skye says, and I nod my head. In school, he just ignored me.
“And then, after a whole week, he gave you hickeys. There were a lot of them, girl, I saw them. Anyway, he gave you hickeys and then he ignored you again. Right?” Skye goes on.
“What?! You saw them?” I turn red.
Skye says with a smirk, “Of course you didn’t cover them well, Lyra. The whole school saw them.”
“Yeah, it’s been two weeks, and well, he’s gone back to ignoring,” I say to get back on track. Jude and Kira are arguing about something, and the crowded cafeteria makes it hard for us to talk.
“He’s a jerk,” Skye says after a while. I look at her sharply before grabbing some fries and eating them.
“Wait, what? He thinks he can do whatever he wants to you and doesn’t care how you feel. You, Lyra, deserve better,” she says.
“I never wanted him, Skye. I don’t need a guy.”
I told her everything that had happened, but I didn’t tell her about Zeke or that I was going to Austin’s house every day after that to learn how to paint. I can’t help but feel hurt by what Austin did.
“How’s it going with Eric?” Skye asks me right when I see Eric next to our table looking at me. He waves to me, and I wave back. Then his friend says something to him, and he looks away.
“That’s great. He’s a good friend,” I say.
“Whoa, Austin is glaring at your ‘good friend,'” Skye says, her eyes wide and her voice very excited.
I turn around and see Austin throwing knives at Eric. Eric nervously looks at his table, knowing that Austin is staring at him.