Page 81 of Rivals

She purses her lips and looks at it one more time before flipping it around to show me. I’m a little taken aback. I didn’t expect this. It’s the beginning of what looks like a bust. She has it framed like it would be the start of a statue, only it’s me. My chest twists, and my lungs squeeze. It’s half done, but I can tell she’s taking it very slowly. I study her sketch of me with my eyebrows crinkled and eyes far away like I’m contemplating something serious. The way she shadowed it makes it appear like stone instead of a direct likeness.

“This is beautiful, baby.” She looks down with a little smile. I reach over and grab her chin to say it to her face. “You are so talented. I hope you know that.” Her eyes clear more, and I feel like she sees the sincerity in my own.

“Thank you,” she rasps. I tilt my head and peck her on the lips. She flips it around and goes back to finishing it.

We’re getting close to being a month away from Italy. I try not to focus on it, and I’m afraid I might psych myself out. Regardless, I’m also hopeful about it for various reasons. The show at The Plaza got every contestant in that room noticed, and people are paying attention now. I haven’t been able to stop thinking that maybe, just maybe, my dad noticed, too. I hate myself for hoping. I hate that I’ve even thought about it for more than ten seconds. I told myself I couldn’t think about it anymore and that I needed to think about Revna and our relationship. Though, I’m not so sure she believes we’re in a real relationship. As far as I’m concerned, she’s mine. It’s as real as it can get for me.

She’s different now. Her mother changed her, and it all feels wrong. It shouldn’t be like this. She doesn’t have to wonder anymore, and that could be for the better, but I’m not convinced. It broke her, and I noticed she doesn’t seem to care about much. But looking at what she created and how it captured my likeness so perfectly, I wonder if she at least cares about me. I can see the frustration growing on her face as she makes the same motion over and over again across the paper.

“Are you looking forward to Italy?” I ask to distract her. Her eyes flick up to mine and back down. Her top teeth grab her lower lip in concentration as she smudges something on the page.

“I’m scared,” she says quietly, looking at the sketch pad.

“Of traveling?”

“No…I…never mind.”

I let go of her feet and work my way up her legs, stopping mid-thigh. She drops the sketch pad and levels me with a stare. I grin and grab the sketch pad from her hands, setting it on the coffee table. “Hey, I wasn’t—“

I lift her onto my lap and shove my hands under her hoodie to rub her bare back. She surprises me and leans in, wrapping her arms around my neck and tucking her nose under my jaw. “Whatever happens, we’re going to be ok. We have each other. This is something you’ve dreamed of. I’m not confident about much in my life, but I am confident in us,” I say.

“It’s probably a good thing one of us is.”

Chapter 50

Revna

One Month Until Italy

Lachlandrinkshiscoffeewhile he leans against the counter in the kitchen. We both finally had a day off and figured we could attempt to workshop ideas, again, for what we could do in Italy. I’ve been wracking my brain for days, but nothing came to mind. It’s all blank. I popped a couple of OBA when Lachlan wasn’t looking. One doesn’t do it for me anymore.

I look at my steaming coffee while I sit at the raised top. Purple and blue float out with the steam, and I’m mesmerized by the sight. The calm has finally settled in. I hope it will open my eyes to something I haven’t considered.

A hand touches my arm. My reactions are slower, so I don’t jump at the feeling. “Come on, let’s go sit on the couch.” I take his hand and sit next to him, but he pulls me into his lap. I hold the coffee, trying to keep it from spilling as he kisses my neck. That feeling pushes through my drug-induced state, and it feels good. I wish could I could bottle it.

“I think we should consider doing something that would be a challenge for both of us. Something that isn’t painting at all.” I frown. There are a lot of different things that could fit into that. “What if we did a sculpture? I’m talking a block of marble and start carving that thing, chipping away little by little,” Lachlan suggests with a tinge of excitement in his voice. I take another sip of coffee and look back into my mug. Maybe it has answers or ideas for us.

“We must set the angel free,” I mutter. Pink steam rises next. I feel like I’m swimming in a pool of syrup.

“Maybe Michelangelo makes a good point.” I nod and think about it. I’ve never done sculpting before. It was never something I was interested in.

“I don’t know how to do it, though. Do you think it’s smart to do a medium that only one of us has knowledge of?” I look at him, and his hands rub over my thigh while he thinks. The gesture is strangely soothing, and I find myself relaxing further into him.

“We could start practicing here,” he suggests.

“What if we did a painting of a statue? Something we would have made from marble, only it’s a painting.”

“Painting inception?” Lachlan smiles at me wide and beautiful. It does something to my heart, and I can’t help but smile back and giggle.

“I guess, yeah.” He nods.

“Maybe you’re on to something, muse.” My stomach feels all fluttery, and my chest is as light as a feather. I hold the moment for as long as possible because it feels good not to be so heavy or numb. Even if it only lasts for a few seconds.

“Well, we can practice drawing it out. Maybe we should consider practicing with some wax to see what works.”

“I’m willing to give it a try.” He pecks my cheek and hugs me tighter.

“I like this,” he says, looking at me. My gaze dips down to his lips, that I’ve grown very fond of kissing every day. He lifts the mug to them, taking another sip. I watch the motion and stare at his throat as he swallows.