Page 11 of Rivals

“Anything in your sketchbook?” I ask.

He looks up, and his eyes trail me up and down. This is going to be a long day.

“Now that I look at it, no, none of this will work,” he says shortly.

“Ok, well, how are we going to come up with something?”

He doesn’t respond and studies me as he leans forward. His eyes pierce me as if he can see right through to my soul. A shiver of awareness runs through me as if he knows something about me that I don’t know about myself. I almost want to shy away from it. I don’t, though it definitely makes me want to.

“I don’t know, Revna, but we have to come up with something in about a week to get it done on time.”

My mind goes to popping ecstasy, LSD, or maybe OBA again. Even though it made me feel strung out for days, it worked. At least the pretty colors might trigger something. I almost open my mouth to suggest it and stop myself. I don’t know Lachlan well enough to know if he wouldn’t use it against me. So I stay silent, swallowing the idea.

“I can see your thoughts on your face, Revna. What were you going to say?”

Weird. I bite my lower lip like I always do when I’m nervous and don’t know what to say. It’s part of the reason they are always so chapped.

I hate that I am even a little nervous around him. I stare at my feet so I don’t have to see his response. “Well…um…we could maybe get that new drug floating around, Aurora Borialis, or ecstasy, or I don’t know, LSD?” I say quietly.

Yes, these are all illegal substances, but it’s just like last time. I feel like the gate to my inspiration has been locked tight, and I don’t have the key to open it. At least with something inducing it, a little bit of inspiration might slip through the holes of the creative jail I find myself in. My eyes are still on my old sneakers, and I force myself to look at him. Movement behind me grabs my attention. People are starting to arrive for class. We’re not alone anymore. A student pushes through the doors and walks past us to his space, barely sparing us a glance.

Peering back at Lachlan, I find him already staring at me. Yeah, ok, that was a bad idea. Now I’ve made myself even more vulnerable to this prick. Good job, Revna. Add it to the list of occupations never to have. Don’t be a criminal, check. Don’t deal drugs, check. Though, I guess those go hand in hand.

“Were you high when you messed with my submission?” he asks quietly.

My eyes bug out of my head because my immediate response is no, but I bite it back. If I say no, that admits fault, and under no circumstances will I admit I did anything.

He smirks at me, reading the answer on my face. I stay silent and glare at him, his smirk falters. Yeah, asshole, you think you can read me? Read this.

“Is it a ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ Lachlan?” I ask, refusing to acknowledge his question.

My mind goes to the voice I kept hearing. If he says yes, I will make sure it’s not the same OBA from my hookup. I thought it was the stuff I had before, but clearly it was laced with something. That’s the only thing that makes sense. The voice kept telling me to add specific colors and to trust it. I mean, I guess I’ll trust the voice in my own head, it is my voice after all.

“Friday,” Lachlan says, bringing me out of my thoughts.

“What?” I ask, not sure what he is getting at.

“Fri-day. Do you not understand English?” he asks with a sneer. “Friday. My place, bring some clothes or whatever. Let’s get this done this weekend, no breaks. I’ll supply the drugs,” he says the last bit quietly.

How in the world does he think that I would trust him enough to supply illegal drugs to me and not think he would do something to them? Maybe nothing deadly, at least. I don’t think he would, but he is hard to pin down. Though I suppose it is possible. He hates me that much because I think I could hate him that much. The alternative is that he laces them with laxatives or something. I mean, if I thought about doing that to him, I’m sure he has considered it for me already.

He sighs. “Seriously? No, I’m not going to lace the drugs both of us will be taking. In fact, you can go with me, and you’ll see that nothing will be done to them.”

His compromise makes me very wary of all of this. Sure, I have plenty to lose, but I guess he does, too.

“Are we calling a truce or something?” I ask before ok’ing the lock-in at his place, which is equally as unnerving.

He chuckles darkly. “You can call it whatever you want, little bird. The fact of the matter is, I won’t be pushed out by some other mediocre artist. I will get into the MoMA. If you happen to be there, then good for you.”

My eyes narrow at him, it can’t be that easy. There has got to be a catch. There always is, with anyone and everyone, it doesn’t matter who or for what. When people give you something, they always expect something in return. I learned that lesson long ago. I just don’t know what Lachlan wants.

His back turns to me as he slides his sketchbook and pencil into his bag. I’m afraid to say yes. If I’m at his place, that means he has the upper hand. At least here, it’s relatively neutral ground. There is no way in hell I’m letting him come to my place. I guess there is no other option. He walks back towards me while his eyes bore holes into my body.

“I need an answer, Revna. Or things are about to get a lot more difficult, and I am positive you will not like it.” His posture is rigid, yet he leans towards me.

“Fine. Friday,” I say, promptly leaving him where he stands as I go straight to my contemporary art history class.

I think this has been the longest day of my life. And it just got longer because I didn’t have a bra on or a cup of coffee in my hand.