Page 28 of Rivals
“Do you have any more OBA?” I ask him, hoping he does because I need something to get through this. I feel like I walked into the lion’s den willingly, and now I’m second-guessing myself.
“Nope, I’m sure we can come up with something that isn’t drug-induced,” he says. I bite my lower lip and look at my shoes. My mind is blank, and I have that swirling feeling in my gut like I did a while ago. Whether Lachlan is good or bad for me doesn’t matter because I have to be here. The more I think about it, I realize I couldn’t decide what he is for me. I hardly know him.
I watch him set up a giant sketchbook the size of a large canvas. It’s a technique for practice or brainstorming. That way, only a sheet of paper is used instead of wasting a canvas or having to prime it all over again to paint something on top of it.
Lachlan takes a piece of charcoal and starts making shapes. I take a seat on the sofa and watch him. It’s quiet, just the sound of the charcoal scraping against the paper and the city that never sleeps in the background. “I was thinking...”
I look at his back, waiting for him to continue. He hasn’t done much. There’s a general outline of a face, lips, and eyebrows. The shape of the lips looks kind of like mine. “You should stay here until we finish this.”
I scrunch my nose. I don’t want to live with him. He turns around to face me, probably because I didn’t say a word. “Why?” I ask, curious. But I also want to use whatever reason he came up with so I can throw it back in his face.
“Because between finals, this...” He gestures to the large sketchbook. “walking back and forth to get here would save both of us time for a few days.”
“I have to work in the morning.” He shrugs and turns around. “And I have stuff at my place that I need.”
“Then we can go get it if you want,” he says, continuing with his charcoal drawing.
“Weren’t you asleep before I rang your buzzer?” I ask.
“Stop trying to change the subject, Revna. It’s a good idea, and you know it. You were smart enough not to test me. Don’t be stupid now.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” he sighs.
“What do you have against Ryan?” I ask.
He spins around, and his long legs quickly eat the space between us. I tilt my head up because I refuse to cower to him. His hands fist at his hips, and he glares down at me. “You’re staying here, is that clear?” He waits for me to agree, and instead, I glare back. “Ryan is a joke. He is a mediocre artist who would have held you back.”
“I’m sorry, who are you?” I throw back at him. The charcoal snaps in his hands, and his jaw twitches under pressure. I try to force my smile down, but it reaches my lips anyway.
“You’re full of yourself, aren’t you?” Lachlan spits.
I shake my head. “No, just confident in my ability to piss you off.” He growls and spins around to go back to his drawing.
“So, what do you want? Are we going to do coordinating pieces, or should we make a triptych?” I ask. Lachlan’s shoulders hunch closer to his ears, and then they drop like he’s trying to force a deep breath into his lungs. My eyes trace the graceful lines of his muscular back with the dips, curves, and black lines of some of his tattoos. There are a few scars that interrupt my gaze, and it’s all beautiful. Since when are backs beautiful?
“When you decide to stop staring at me, could you get to work on an idea that will help me get us to the next round?” I groan and throw myself deeper into the couch. I watch Lachlan move around on the paper, and inspiration tickles my mind with his movements. I sit there that for what feels like ages and nothing comes to mind, this was an entirely useless trip I could be in my own bed right now. My eyes get heavy, and I let myself go, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.
***
My alarm goes off, and I blindly search for my phone. I’m warm and cozy and don’t want to get up. I snuggle into my blanket. It smells like paint and something woodsy. I don’t know what it is, but I like it.
“Revna! Turn that damn thing off!” Wait, I know that voice. My eyes spring open, and I realize I’m not where I thought I was—at home. I have to get to work, and the walk is a little longer from Lachlan’s place.
The alarm continues to go off while I’m attempting to catch my bearings. “Revna!” Lachlan roars. I search for the phone, and then he’s suddenly in front of me, helping me by looking for it himself. It must have sunk into the couch cushions. He pulls me up from the sofa and then pulls the cushions off the couch, tossing them every which way until he finds it under the cushion I was sitting on. He taps the phone off and hands it to me. I expect him to go back to bed and leave me to it. But he stands there and stares at me.
“Why do you need to be awake at five in the morning?” he asks me. His eyes are bloodshot, and he looks like he could use another twenty hours of sleep. He rubs his head, and his hair sticks up in various places while he stares at me, waiting for me to answer his question.
“I have to go to work,” I mumble.
“Oh,” he says. I nod, not sure what else to say. I grab my backpack and head for the bathroom to change. I look at myself in the mirror with bags under my eyes. I could use another ten hours of sleep. Then, maybe I would be ok, but that’s not an option. I don’t remember the last time I got eight hours. I pull on my stupid uniform and socks before opening the door.
Lachlan is leaning against the countertop in jeans and a shirt, looking at his phone and drinking a cup of coffee. “Ready?” he asks me.
I eye him wearily and head for my shoes. “Uh, yeah. Why?”
“I’ll walk you,” he says. I look up from tying my shoes.
