Page 49 of I Blame the Rival

“Humour is her defence mechanism when things get uncomfortable.” I clear my throat, trying to keep the pain from spiralling out of control, “You get used to it after a while.”

“It’s okay. Nico does the same thing.”

“Nico?”

“He’s my closest friend.” Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she looks at me shyly, “Besides you, that is.”

I stare at her, feeling a balloon inflate inside my chest.

The few relationships I’ve had over the years never worked out because no one could see past the tortured soul who needed saving. The broken boy with the messy family.

The problem was, I wasn’t looking to be fixed.

I was looking for a friend.

Lacey bites her lip, shifting her gaze from me to the staircase, “Do you want to show me your room?”

“Do you want to see it?”

She hesitates, “Yeah, I think I do.”

I swallow, trying to calm my sudden nerves, “Follow me.”

Pushing herself off the couch, Lacey follows me up the stairs and down the narrow hall to my bedroom. I hold my breath as I push the door open, hoping I didn’t leave any underwear on the floor this morning.

“Here it is.”

Lacey gingerly walks by me, her dark curls brushing my arm as she slips through the door. I trail after her slowly, watching for her reaction.

For such a small house, my room is surprisingly big. The queen size bed pushed back against the wall leaves enough space for a decent-sized desk to sit in front of my window. Looking out over the backyard, the four panes of glass provide me with enough natural light to draw and a sense of freedom that lets my art run wild.

“It’s cleaner than I was expecting.” Lacey muses, walking over to the small closet and taking a peep inside. I don’t havemany clothes, but the boxes piled along the floor are full of the sketchbooks I’ve filled over time.

I shrug, “Most of my life is messy. I try not to add to it.”

She wanders over to my desk where my current sketchbook sits, waiting. Lacey picks it up with a smile.

“Am I allowed to peek behind the cover?”

“Sure.”

Instead of flipping it open, Lacey walks over and sits down on my bed. I stare at her, unsure of what to do when she gestures to the spot beside her.

“Promise I won’t fall over this time.”

I huff out a laugh and take a seat beside her. To my surprise, she immediately passes over my sketchbook.

“Will you show me?”

I swallow, giving her a shaky nod. Our knees aren’t even touching but this feels like the most intimate experience of my life.

Taking a deep breath, I turn to the first page. Lacey gasps and leans closer, her reaction and proximity making my heart kick into overdrive.

“Is that Karen’s garden?”

She runs a finger over my drawing and I freeze, watching her touch a piece of my soul with a chipped fingernail.

“Yeah.”

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