Page 74 of Rivals

I haven’t saved the money I needed based on our deal because it’s been going to the pills. It’s the only way I can seem to get on with my day anymore. The weight doesn’t feel as heavy. The sadness doesn’t feel as foreboding, and the loneliness doesn’t feel as heart-ripping.

“Ok. Red, blue, or purple?” Lachlan asks.

“Blue.” He nods and mixes a few other things.

“What color glaze?”

“Does black work?” He purses his lips for a minute.

“Let’s try it. But it might not turn out.”

I shrug and braid my hair. “Isn’t that the point of art?”

He shrugs. “I guess you’re right.”

The vase finishes quick drying, and we paint it together by dipping it in various shades of blue. After we finished painting, we worked on cleaning up after ourselves. Though some mud was slung at each other, so it took us longer.

“It won’t be done until tomorrow, and I’ll come back to get it. Do you want to go back to my place?” he asks.

I don’t want this night to end. It’s the best I’ve felt in a while. “Yeah, that sounds good.” He locks up, and we step out onto the dark street. I stay closer to Lachlan, and he grabs my hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I have a question,” I state. He glances at me, and his hand twitches a little in mine.

“I can’t usually anticipate what’s about to come out of your mouth, so you might as well ask it.”

I smile like I’ve won something. “Is this a date, Lachlan?” My palms feel like they’re getting clammy, but he doesn’t release my hand. I’ve been on dates, but everything is different with Lachlan. He’s been clear that he wants me. But if I move in with him, even temporarily, I have to know that he’s committed to me. However brief it may be.

He stops us and pulls me to the side, out of the way of other walkers. “Wasn’t that obvious?”

“Not really,” I mumble.

His cheeks puff out, and he runs his hand through his hair again. “Well then, yes, it is. I guess I should have been clearer. Did you want it to be something else?”

I shake my head. He releases my hand and clasps my face between his hands. “Revna, I thought I’d made myself very clear that I like you, I want you.”

“Ok,” I rasp. His expression goes serious, and he kisses me again before walking us down the dark street. He stops at a hole-in-the-wall pizza joint. We got two slices and kept walking to his apartment.

“That’s gross,” he says, looking at the pineapple on my pizza.

“Have you tried it?” I ask him.

He grimaces. “I don’t need to try it to know it’s gross. Fruit doesn’t belong on pizza.”

“I can tell you a list of other things that don’t go together, but here we are.”

He shoots me a look as we come up to his building and ride the elevator together. He starts to open the door and then stops to look over his shoulder. “Do you really mean that?”

“That pineapple definitely should go on pizza? Yes, I do.”

“Revna,” he growls.

“No,” I say quickly. But I don’t know if it’s the truth. His lips thin, and he opens his mouth to say something, then snaps it closed.

I’ve thought a lot about him and me over the past couple of weeks we spent apart.

I stood behind the counter, hoping time would pass faster. Even when I was high most of the time, my mind still went to Lachlan or my mom. It went to the possibility of opening up entirely to him. Only the fear held me back because he could so easily rip my heart out and walk away. My mom did, and I didn’t even have a chance to defend myself.

Lachlan has this deep-seated anger at the world that feels like an extension of his person. He’s not just angry but he is anger personified. I’m not afraid of him hitting me. I know he won’t. That’s not the problem. But what I am scared of, amongst a list too long for anyone to carry around with them, is that his anger will keep me from getting close to him. I know this because my own resentment for people in general, and maybe a little bit for myself, has kept me from anything like this.