Page 35 of Lords of Ruin: Owned

“Umm, since when do you miss like nine days of school?” she says, her eyes narrowed as she inspects me for injuries.

I want to say,since the Chessmen have decided to make my life a sex dream and a living nightmare,but instead I flash her a wide smile. “Since I decided that high school was better than having my dreams crushed by RISD.”

Jasmine rolls her eyes. “You're going to get in Will. Stop acting like you’re not the most talented artist in all of Texas.”

I shift to let Jasmine in. “The problem is they are accepting students from the other 49 states.” I murmur.

“I keep telling her the New York art scene is overrated.” Dad sighs, wiping his hands on his jeans as he enters the foyer.

“Tommy!” Jasmine squeals, as she melts into his arms.

“Jazzy!” Dad coos, squeezing Jasmine so tight, her face flushes a soft pink.

While Tommy is my Dad, he might as well be Jasmine’s. Whenever her home life got bad, and it was always bad, she would come hide out over here until her mother forced her home, or she felt ok enough to go home. Dad even offered her a room of her own, but she says that would make it real and she likes for our house to be the fantasy she always wanted. A Dad, a sister and no alcoholic mother.

Still wrapped in their hug, Dad says, “Are you staying the night?”

“More like the week. If that’s okay?”

“Of course, Jazzy puff.” Dad whispers, kissing the top of her head. He pulls back eyes darting to me. “Maybe you can convince her to go back to school.”

“I have been going to school,” I pout.

“No you haven’t. 1) You and Jazzy have never been able to whisper, and 2) the principal just called and asked how your mono is doing.” Dad shoots an eyebrow up at me and I dryly giggle.

“I had all the symptoms.” I whisper.

“Sure…” he drawls, nodding his head in that way that says, he totally does not believe me. “I’m going to get started on dinner, settle Jazzy in and then come down and help.”

I nod, and Jasmine saults him. “Aye aye captain.”

As Dad heads to the kitchen, I glance at Jasmine and offer a small smile before gesturing toward my room.

“So, wanna watch a movie?” I ask, leading the way upstairs. Jasmine follows, the familiar sound of her footsteps behind me as I open my bedroom door.

“Oh no, you’re showing me your art portfolio, so I can hype you up.” Jasmine counters.

I can’t help but laugh nervously. “Uh, I don’t think you want to see it…”

“Don’t think.” She narrows her eyes at me, her lips curling into a playful smirk. “You have two options: show me of your own free will, or have me look for it—and you know I will make a mess and not clean it up.”

I sigh heavily, rubbing the bridge of my nose in defeat. “Fine. Second drawer in my desk.”

She squeals in excitement, rushing over to the desk with an energy only Jasmine could have. I follow her with my eyes, trying to swallow the fear and unease that’s gnawing at me. Theportfolio isn’t just full of random sketches—it’s full of portraits. Portraits ofus—me, her, my dad, and, most unsettling of all, the Chessmen.

Jasmine pulls open the drawer, her fingers brushing against the stack of papers before she lifts it out. She flips it open without hesitation, her eyes scanning each image with intense focus. The tension in my chest grows heavier as she pauses, staring at the portrait I painted of her and me at the park, both of us laughing. Her face softens, and she glances at me, her voice unusually quiet.

“Wow, Willow… this is amazing.” Her sighs fill the room, along with the flip of pages and the squeal when she finds herself. “Ugh! I love when you paint me. You always make me look so hot!”

I roll my eyes. “That’s because you are already hot Jazz.”

“But you make me look hotter, which should be impossible, but you Willy Bear are the master of impossible.” She winks, flipping to the next page and my stomach drops.

The faces of the Chessmen stare back at us from my sketches. There’s Cast, his wild confidence a mark in every line; Vincent, with his intoxicating smile, sharp eyes capturing that magnetic energy; and Damien, who I’ve captured in an abstract portrait, a mixture of shadows and intensity that seem to echo who he is. Even though they’ve caused me so much turmoil, I’ve found an odd solace in sketching them. It’s as if their essence, their energy, becomes a part of me.

“You really did them justice,” Jasmine remarks, her voice soft, admiration clear in her tone. “I mean, I’ve never seen anyonemake them look... almost human.” She chuckles, eyeing the intense portrayal of Damien.

I laugh nervously. “Maybe too human.” The thought of Damien seeing this portrait makes me squirm. But the truth is, as much as I try to deny it, a part of me is drawn to them in ways I can't fully comprehend.

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