Page 51 of Rivals
Twenty- Four Hours Until Round Three
Timedoesnotexistwhere I am. I am floating in the clouds that we are painting. Lachlan finished the third portion of his base, and we are back to the first of the three canvases, finishing the details. I swear I can see the light beaming off of it. My gut tells me we made the right choice.
The bright yellows make it feel like it’s glowing, and I’m basking in its rays. Music still plays in the background, and I admire Lachlan while he’s focused on painting. His hands are covered in paint, and he took his shirt off at some point. I swear, the man hates shirts. There is some paint on his chest and his elbow that I’m sure he doesn’t notice. I scrutinize the piece I’ve been working on, angling my head in different ways to see if it needs anything else. The way Lachlan framed my clouds with the columns made it seem like they were real instead of a painting on a ceiling. He even added his own, making the work look seamless, as if one person had done it.
“Is it done?” Lachlan asks from the other side of the room. I glance at him and consider the painting. I’m afraid to say it’s done despite the ticking clock. We will have to come to a point where it has to be done, and I have to accept that I can’t go back to it. One of the hardest jobs of an artist is knowing when it’s complete because you can’t help but ask,is it good enough?
He strides over to me while I’m still sitting on the floor. “You did good, Revna. I think it’s there.” Warmth spreads through my blood, and it gives me a little bit of encouragement.
“Yeah, I think it’s done,” I whisper hesitantly. He nods.
“We didn’t get the gold foil, though.”
“Oh no,” I gasp. My heart pounds, and I want to scream. “What are we going to do, Lach? It’s not right!” I panic. “What are we going to do?”
He stares at me instead of the painting, unnervingly calm. It makes me want to punch him in the face. “How are you not panicking about this? What are we going to do?”
He turns and grabs his phone off the couch. “Hey, it’s ok, Revna. The art store will open in a couple of hours. I will get us some gold foil.” I take a breath.
“Do we have that kind of time? What day is it?”
“We have ten hours.”
“What!” I screech. “Why didn’t you say something?”
He rubs the back of his neck and makes a face. “I didn’t notice until now,” he says.
I feel like I’m about to puke. How much did I take? I knew I lost track of time, but not complete touch with my current reality. The deadline feels like it’s crushing my soul. I gasp for breath and frantically look around for something, anything, to punch, scream into, cry on, but this has tostop.
“Revna, baby.” I breathe in and out of my mouth because I can’t get enough air. I’m close to pass out. “Revna, you’re coming down. It’s ok, you’re ok. You’re safe,” he reassures me.
I shake my head between gasps. My eyes feel dry, and I think I forgot to blink. Lachlan grabs me and yanks my sweatshirt off, not having anything under it. He pulls me into him, holding me in a hug. His body covers me, and I want to crawl out of mine.
“It’s ok, feel me. It’s ok,” Lachlan says carefully. He pulls my hand into him, and I pull it back. But he holds strong and puts it on his heart. “Feel me, Revna.” My legs tingle, and I drop to the floor. Lachlan falls with me and lays on his side, cocooning me in his arms. His weight and strength wrap around me, and I focus on how his warm skin feels against mine. I can feel his pulse thundering under it, and my breathing slowly evens out. His hands rub my back in soothing circles as silent tears escape from my eyes.
We stay like that long enough for me to breathe normally, but I can’t let him go. My eyes get heavy, and he pulls away right before I fall asleep. I look up at him still in his arms, and he presses an achingly gentle kiss to my forehead. Another tear drops down my cheek.
“You’re ok, baby.” I rub my check on him and surprise myself when I kiss his chest. He sighs and starts to pull out of my hold. I force myself not to reach for him and lay back on the floor while he gets to his feet. I still don’t have a shirt on, and my boobs are cold, but I just don’t care.
Lachlan comes back over with my sweatshirt. “Sit up, little bird.” I comply and right myself. He pulls the sweatshirt over my head like I am a toddler who needs help to dress. He takes my arms and carefully puts them in each sleeve. Then he takes his thumb and wipes the tears streaming down my face.
“Take all of that,” he says, placing his hand on the top of my head, “and all of this,” moving his hand to my heart, “and put it in that,” he says, pointing to the canvas. “We can do this, Revna. We have to, ok?” I nod, and another tear slips free.
“I’m going to go get the gold foil and some food. Will you be alright, or do you want to come with me? I finished the base on the third. We just have to fill in two more.” I sniffle again. He kneels in front of me and chucks my chin. “Don’t freak out on me again, baby. We’re a team, and I need you in this with me.”
I nod and look into his eyes. “Ok. I’ll be back,” he says, grabbing a shirt and his keys and walking out the door. The lock flips, and I look at the painting. Focus on what’s in front of you, Revna. You can do this. He’s getting the gold foil. It will be perfect. You will make it to the next round.This is not the end.
I take a deep breath to steady myself. I get some more paint on my palette, mix it, and get back to work doing what Lachlan said. Using everything that’s stored up in my head and my heart, I bleed it onto the canvas. I smear my blood and my tears all over it while I hope and pray it will be enough.
There’s still that little voice in the back of my head reminding me Lachlan has control over me because of what I did. However, the other part of me says he wouldn’t use it against me. An unmistakable connection has been forged between us. I don’t want to question it because I will run the other way if I do. We are not the same anymore. We haven’t been for a while now.
I’ve unintentionally exposed myself to him, and he understands me for what I am. A broken, lonely, angry woman. I’m mad at the world because I feel like I’ve never had a chance. If I wasn’t fighting off some abusive foster parent, then I was fighting the other ten kids there.
If I wasn’t fighting to get my classes done and maintain a grade, then I was working until I couldn’t see straight to earn the money to pay for those classes.
But I saw him, too.
I saw Lachlan. His anger is like a furnace, and it almost burns me when I get too close. I wish I understood why he is so angry. Neither of us has talked about our pasts more than in passing. It’s not something I like to talk to anyone about, and I don’t think I ever will.
