Page 31 of Rivals
“Why do you want me in your space? Because if I’m being honest, I don’t want you in mine.”
Lachlan chuckles as he walks leisurely next to me. My chest feels like it’s splitting in two, and I don’t like it. It usually tells me a panic attack or an episode is coming. I don’t know if it’s because of Lachlan, the situation, or the general anxiety of the unknown. I feel like I have lost all control and I’m trying to play catch up.
He’s never been to my place, and revealing myself to him this way makes my stomach twist uncomfortably. Once we get to my building and I open the door, sure enough, Lachlan follows behind. He’s going to be in my space. I feel like I’m giving him something, and it will change everything between us when he takes it.
We climb up the stairs to the fourth floor and I hope to God that Joshua isn’t here. Opening the door slowly, I glance at his bedroom door, and it’s open. The lights are off, and he’s not here. I release a breath, set my bag and my keys down, and look at Lachlan. He doesn’t say a word, observing quietly, which makes me more nervous. This is nothing like his place. It probably feels like a trash can to him, which is funny because it feels like that to me, too.
“Can you go now?”
“Pack a bag, Revna! You know I’m right. Just stop arguing with me for once,” he says, exasperated.
My heart thuds, but not out of fear. “Now, why would I do that when it’s so much fun?” I ask and roll my eyes. I grab a few things to put into another bag.
Lachlan crowds me without touching me. His large body is imposing, yet I noticed how he feels oddly safe to me. “What did I tell you about rolling your eyes, Revna?” he growls.
“You’re all bark and no bite,” I grumble, grabbing a few things.
“Are you willing to take that bet? Because I can guarantee that I do bite, only you’ll like it.”
I laugh sarcastically and fix a few things in my room, making it look like I’m not planning on coming back. I’ll have to wait until he falls asleep. I know he has insomnia, so it might be a while. “Can we go now?” I ask, annoyed with this whole exchange.
He turns without a word and heads for the door. My throat feels tight, and I feel like my lungs aren’t taking in enough oxygen. I don’t want to stay with him because I don’t know what I will do. I don’t know if I can trust myself around Lachlan. He makes me feel things that I don’t like to feel. He makes me think about future thoughts that I have no business considering. My current reality is only to consider the day I’m in, nothing else.
I got some OBA, so that should take the edge off and hopefully get me started with brainstorming ideas. The other reason I like it is because it dulls everything. Those pieces of my life that make my heart drop into my stomach or my chest feel like it’s splitting open fade into the background. Nothing matters except that exact moment in time. It’s a much better feeling than everything else.
I follow Lachlan out the door and back down the stairs.
Lachlan stops at the bottom of the landing to hold the door open for me. I step through and he takes my small bag, carrying it for me. “I’m hoping we can have a solid idea of what we want to do by the end of the day today,” Lachlan says.
“Why is that?” I ask, not sure why he’s in such a rush. We have time, not a lot of it, but three weeks is plenty of time. I hope.
“I want us to think this through. I don’t want it to be rushed and hope it works out. I want to know it will.”
“But what if we can’t think of anything?”
“I have some other ideas if we can’t. It will be fine, Revna.”
Once we get back to Lachlan’s, he sets my bag on the other side of his bed, the side I assume he doesn’t sleep on. I grab one of my hoodies and fold it up, setting it off to the side, and take my shoes off.I’m settling in. He watches me for a moment. I even make a show of putting my toothbrush in the bathroom. Hopefully, he buys it. Regardless, it doesn’t matter. I’m not staying. I packed enough for him to think I’ll be here for a few days, but I plan on sneaking out the moment he falls asleep. He seems to do that a lot around me.
“I don’t think we should do something as abstract as we’ve done in the past. I’d like something with a little more direction and focal points,” I suggest.
“What if we did something with more mixed media?” Lachlan says.
I scrunch my nose. This feels like the wrong opportunity to do that. It’s different but feels like it pulls away from a larger opportunity. Plus, I think Lachlan and I are capable of more between us. Though, I don’t know how to put that into play. He’s objectively a good artist, but how do I factor into that? We fell into the first one. I think OBA did most of the heavy lifting for the second. We’re on painting three, and I’m not high, but I wish I was. Maybe I should be for this.
I go over the sketch pad on the easel and find a new page. As I flip through it, my hands almost crumple the page. I’m looking at a picture of myself. I stare at the beautifully smudged charcoal portrait of myself. The way he did my eyes is what caught me off guard. They look…haunted. Do I look like that? My eyebrows are furrowed like I’m upset, and my long black hair blows around my face like I’m in a wind tunnel. Or maybe I’m underwater. My lips are pursed like I’m trying to hold back tears, as if I have been faced with something that is so deeply painful I know I have no choice but to do it. I have to face the pain because it’s the only way.
My own eyes start to tear up as I gawk at the drawing. I turn around to find Lachlan staring at me with a strange look. It’s a beautiful sketch, and I don’t want to tell him that because that means he sees something that I didn’t think anyone saw. I thought I had become very good at hiding things from others. The better I can hide it, the more I can disappear, which has always been a conflict, considering that in order for me to succeed in art, I have to be looked at. My stomach twists, and I want to puke, scream, maybe cry. I am so deeply jarred by this sketch that I don’t know what to do or how I should feel about it.
Should I appreciate the fact that at least one person sees me? Sees through the walls that are so thick, sometimes I can’t see through them myself. What is Lachlan up to? Is he trying to get to me? He did say he would make me pay. Is this my payment? Is making me feel vulnerable, and exposed his payback?
I’m confused, and my chest hurts, and I’m unsure of the fight or the flight conflicting in my body. Lachlan has his back to me, so I go to my bag, grab my little baggie, and then toss the OBA back. I can’t take it. I can’t take whatever he is trying to get at, rather peel back a layer of me that I don’t wantanyoneto see. Who does he think he is?
“Why did you make this?” I ask him. He shrugs and flips it to a new page.
I take quick steps with his back to me and push him. He catches himself before he falls into the easel and whips around. “What’s your problem, Revna?”
“You’re my problem! Why did you make that!” I scream, pointing at the large sketchbook.
