Текст книги "The body painter"

Автор книги: Pepper winters

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Chapter Three

______________________________

Olin

-The Present-

MY MATHS SUCKED.

That couldn’t be all I had.

Can it?

I stabbed the numbers into my phone’s calculator again, tabulating my everyday cash, my savings, and the small wad of money from my purse.

I winced as I pressed enter, hoping for a much kinder number, only to receive the same painful one.

Four hundred and ninety-seven pounds to my name.

I’d been unemployed for two months and chewed through what little savings I’d had. I’d applied for everything—waitressing, café worker, Heritage Trust cleaner, secretary to some tech studio, and even considered bar-tending at a local strip club.

After the used car yard where I’d worked closed down—sitting in the back office and typing up invoices—I’d put aside my pride and lofty ideas that I was worth more and begged for a job—any job.

But no one had wanted me.

Turned out, a failed dancer who’d passed school but had no accolades or recommendations to her name wasn’t in hot demand.

Especially after the ‘accident’ two years ago.

That had been the beginning of the end for me. The end of my dreams. The end of money. The end of pride in my career path.

My eyes trailed to the print-out listing the requirements for a Living Canvas requested by Total Trickery.

Must be slim, able to stand for long periods of time, and be impervious to the cold.

Hours are negotiable, pay is minimal, clothing absolutely forbidden.

Able to hold your bladder and tongue, refrain from opinions or suggestions, and be the perfect Living Canvas.

Other attributes required: non-ticklish, contortionist, and obedient. Must also enjoy being studied while naked in a crowd.

Call or email ‘YOUR SKIN, HIS CANVAS’ if interested in applying.

Gil.

God, even though long hours separated me from the doomed interview, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

I’d needed that job.

I’d gone with such high hopes of employment, and the failure of yet another botched attempt at earning money was just the sugar on top of my already caramelized disappointment.

If Gil had been able to tolerate me, we could’ve worked well together. I knew how intense he became when he painted. I knew what sort of dedication he’d require from his employee. Besides, I ticked off most of the wanted attributes of his advert: slim, quiet, preferred winter to summer, and was used to skimpy outfits thanks to a history in dance.

In a word, I was an ideal candidate—minus a few things I’d have to disclose if I’d gotten the gig.

It didn’t mean I’d seriously contemplated it as an important career move. I did strive to make something of myself, even if I was currently in a rut.

But dreams were costly, and living didn’t come cheap.

It was time to grow up.

Time to get a job that paid semi-decent, squirrel some savings, and go back to school to become an adult and not this pretender.

I sighed, slouching on my wooden chair at the scuffed-up table I’d found in a second-hand shop in downtown Birmingham.

When I’d been sixteen, a life coach came to school and asked what we wanted to be when we grew up. I’d envisioned a life drenched in dance. A world with bright lights, beautiful music, and elegant pirouettes as a prima ballerina. I’d pictured Gil beside me. Travelling the world together, both lucky enough to make a career out of our art.

I definitely didn’t see me single and struggling in a city that I’d left the moment I’d finished school—doing my best to succeed, all while parents didn’t care in the slightest if I ended up homeless or famous.

They’d totally forgotten they even had a child at this point.

My fingers trailed to the ad again.

What happened to you, Gil?

Who’d hurt him today?

Why did he hate me so much?

Rubbing at the ache in my chest, I stood and padded across my small apartment to grab the rest of the wine in the fridge. Taking a chipped coffee mug from the cupboard, I folded back into my chair and poured the rest of the alcohol into it.

All class.

That’s me.

Ugh, what am I going to do?

Rent was due next week, and I didn’t have it. My body was hungry, and I had nothing to feed it. I’d combed through all the job listings online and in every publication I could think of. I’d door knocked restaurants. I’d dropped my resume into random offices.

I’d exhausted all my options.

You could just leave.

I slugged back three big mouthfuls of tart wine.

Leave?

And go where?

The cost of living would be the same in any other city. I’d left London because I couldn’t afford it after losing my dancing position. I’d already run away from my problems.

Just because Gil had upset me and made me question everything, didn’t mean I had to tuck tail and run again.

Plus, I needed money to move.

I needed money for everything.

Total Trickery was owned by a boy who had completely broken me at high-school, but...it was also owned by someone I knew.

The only job opportunity where I had an in. Wasn’t that what people said? It’s not what you know but who you know?

My brain took the idea and bolted, throwing images of marching back to his warehouse and demanding he give me a chance. If I did, maybe, possibly, hopefully he might give me a job?

There was no harm in trying, right?

Are you nuts?

He practically threw me out this afternoon. I’d done nothing to hurt him at high-school—or at least I thought I hadn’t—yet he acted as if I’d committed a mortal sin.

Why would I have a chance of employment after he’d so eloquently proved he hadn’t forgotten our past? That he still held a grudge against something. That I was still...unwanted.

You need money.

I chewed the inside of my cheek. That was true. But I couldn’t see him giving me any.

Even if he flat-out refuses to hire you again, he might know of someone who will.

I stopped chewing, hating that my brain made logical sense.

At this point, I was willing to hold a placard on a street corner for a job. I’d even wash cocky businessmen’s cars in a bikini if it meant the stress of a dwindling bank account went away.

See? You’re prepared to get mostly naked. Better with the devil you know than the devil you don’t.

I shook my head, doing my best to stop thinking.

Gil had hurt me today.

He’d hurt me lots of days.

If I had any friends left, they’d all tell me to stay the hell away from him.

But...once upon a time, there had been an us.

Oh, my God, O. There is no us!

I slugged back another mouthful of wine.

I know that.

I knew I was setting myself up for more pain than I could handle by going back. But...I’d always been drawn to people who were less fortunate than me. Always wanted to share my loneliness with other lonely souls because together, we didn’t have to be lonely.

Healing people’s wounds—physical or emotional—was something that gave me purpose. It reminded me that I might not have someone to do the same for me but it didn’t mean I couldn’t be there for someone else.

Gil was injured.

He might be lonely.

Gulping back the last of my wine, I stood.

I’d seen him seven hours ago.

It was late.

I should stay home.

I should curl up in front of the TV and enjoy it while I could still afford it.

I shouldn’t throw on my only jacket.

I definitely shouldn’t summon an Uber and meet it at the curb.

It was as if I couldn’t stop myself.

My heart hijacked my self-control, and somehow, I went from standing in my apartment to loitering outside warehouse number twenty-five.

You truly are a sucker for punishment.

I scowled.

Sucker or not, no one could say I hadn’t fought for a job. That I hadn’t been brave in the face of adversity.

The Uber that I couldn’t afford drove off, leaving me with my terrible decisions in the dark. I looked left and right, prickles of uneasy forming.

The industrial area was the exact place all parents warned their kids to avoid.

My parents wouldn’t care if they knew where I was. They were thousands of miles away.

God, what am I doing?

He didn’t want me here.

To be honest, I didn’t really want to be here.

But...I missed him.

He was hurt.

Just go. Before it’s too late.

Hugging myself against the crisp evening, I looked down the long row of warehouses to the road in the distance. If I left, I would always wonder. If I left, I would never know why.

Why did he leave me?

Why is he wounded?

With my heart in my throat, I marched forward and knocked on the smaller entrance.

Low voices seeped from inside.

I didn’t know if Gil lived onsite or if I was about to get in serious trouble with a stranger, but I knocked again, and this time, I tried the door handle.

If it was locked, I’d go home.

If it was unlocked...well...fortune favours the bold.

The handle moved, unlatching the door and cracking it open in invitation.

The voices sounded louder. Two males. One rational and doing their best to calm down the less rational one.

“You’re not hearing me, Miller. I’m not interested.”

“It’s easy coin. I don’t get why you wouldn’t.”

My ears easily picked out Gil’s gruff growl. “Because I don’t have the time to find a suitable model, and I’m done with interviews.”

“Done with asking sexy girls to strip for you?” The other guy chuckled. “What a pain in the ass.”

Gil didn’t laugh; his tone stayed dark and impatient. “Seen one, seen ’em all.”

“If you think that, then you haven’t seen the right one.”

A clatter of something hitting metal bounced around the cavernous warehouse. A strong whiff of turpentine followed.

“All I’m saying is, this deal with Paradise Advertising is mega. You do it, and you’ll land a hundred more gigs. They’re an advertising king and have contracts with so many world-known brands. You’d be set for life, Clark. You follow me?”

Silence reigned as I snuck closer, tiptoeing in my ballet flats. At least I wasn’t in high heels, clicking and announcing my uninvited arrival.

Gil sighed loudly. “You know I hate commercial work.”

“Who cares when it pays?”

Something else smashed. “Look, I’m not gonna lie and say I don’t need the money because I do. I always do. I’ll do any number of shitty gigs if it pays decent.” His hard chuckle sounded strained. “But the deadline is in two days. I don’t have a canvas, let alone inspiration. I can’t exactly paint myself.” His voice dropped an octave. “Besides, there’s something I need to do. I—”

“Whatever it is can wait. Do the commission. Get a damn canvas. It’s easy. Just pick a pretty girl from the street and make her sign whatever you need her to sign and get to work. I’ve seen you create bigger pieces in shorter timeframes. Two days is plenty.”

A drawer slammed. “Forget it. I’ll figure something else out.” The thump of boots gave me precisely two seconds warning before Gil stormed from the back office and raked his hands through messy, dark hair.

He looked even more exhausted than this afternoon; his features tense and shadows contouring him with sadness.

For a moment, he didn’t see me. He believed he was alone as he rubbed his face and dug fingers into his eyes as if begging for rest.

Gil had always been handsome, but now?

God, he might’ve been a painting himself. A masterpiece of masculinity with his sweeping eyebrows, harsh jawline, and unreadable, unforgiving green eyes.

I ached to wrap him in a hug and offer whatever he needed.

He froze, his head shot up, his gaze whipping around the space, sensing that he wasn’t as alone as he thought. “Olin...” Just like before, the first awareness of me echoed with long-ago desire. His forehead remained smooth. His posture gentle.

But then his boots clunked against the paint-splattered concrete, his mouth twisting into denial. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Bad idea coming back.

Very, very bad.

I had no way of explaining my breaking and entering behaviour. No way to disguise the longing that I was sure glowed upon my face. I said the only thing I could. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to barge in uninvited.”

“What the hell did you mean to do then? Do a bit of cleaning? Maybe cook some goddamn pancakes while you were at it?”

I winced.

Pancakes.

He remembers.

“I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

He raked a vicious hand through his hair, yanking at the strands as if he could drive me from his mind. “Did you not get the message this afternoon?” He stalked toward me, heavy boots and predator swiftness. “You can’t fucking be here.” His hand raised as if to grab me and shove me from his warehouse.

“Gil, what the—” Whoever the other male was careened from the office, appearing behind Gil.

Dirty blond hair, two matching dimples, and vibrant blue eyes. Recognition once again whacked me around the back of the head.

Oh, no.

I’d come here hoping for a job. For answers. For Gil to be honest about us.

Unfortunately, I’d found not one, but two familiar boys that I’d spent my high-school years entangled with.

It took Justin Miller longer to recognise me than it’d taken Gil.

Longer to recall the kisses we’d shared. The touches we’d experimented. The breakup I’d initiated.

Gil had been the love of my life.

Justin had been my rebound.

And a friend.

Definitely a good friend.

Gil stepped aside, a grimace painting him in blacks and greys. His gaze never left mine. A piercing connection of awareness.

He knew I knew Justin.

He knew I’d dated Justin.

He knew Justin didn’t recognise me and was just waiting for the moment he did.

Justin’s eyes widened as he looked me up and down. He licked his lips, shaking his head as if seeing the past. “O? Is...is that really you?”

Gil crossed his arms, his face switching from carefully guarded to unreadable. Doing my best to ignore his overwhelming presence and the way my heart quickened, I nodded at Justin. “Hello.”

“Oh, my God!” Justin jogged across the huge warehouse and scooped me into a hug. “I can’t believe this!” His arms crushed me tight. I dangled like an unwilling hostage in his embrace.

Why couldn’t Gil have reacted this way?

I would’ve welcomed it.

Cried for it.

Kissed him until I’d died of joy.

Instead, Justin’s body enveloped my own. He was warm and unwanted. I squirmed a little to be free.

Patting his back, I pulled away with a smile that I hoped was kind but feared it was more of a wince. “Justin. Fancy seeing you here.”

“Fancy seeing me?” His eyebrows shot into his hair. He was just as confident as he had been at school. The years had decorated him with a sturdier physique and shrewder gaze, but boyhood charm still lingered, complete with easy flirting. “Fancy seeing you.” He glanced at Gil behind him before looking me up and down again with a grin. “What are you doing here?” His grin fell. “Wait, do you...do you still hang out with Clark?”

Gil stalked forward. Slow and meticulous with the ever-watchful, always condemning gleam in his green eyes. “No. She came here by accident. Haven’t seen her in years.”

“Oh.” Justin wiped his mouth. “So...you’re here at nine p.m. on a school night because...?”

I looked at Gil, waiting for him to reply.

He didn’t.

He stood as unmovable as stone, his eyes a storm of complexity.

“I came for the interview today. When Gil recognised me, there was no interview.” I shrugged, not looking at my old boyfriend but at my current heartbreak. “But I came back.”

Gil’s throat worked. Something flickered over his face that I wanted to chase and capture. Whatever it was, it tugged at me with truth.

He crossed his arms, flinching a little thanks to his sore elbow. “You came back against my strict instructions to stay away.”

“I can’t take no for an answer.” I let pitiful pleading enter my voice. “I really need a job, Gil. Like really, really. I’m happy to do whatever you need, or, if you know of someone who’s hiring, then I’d be very grateful for their details.”

I swallowed, shivering a little as Gil continued to stare right into me. I added, “I also came to check on you. I...I wouldn’t have been able to sleep if I hadn’t.”

He reared back. “I’m not your concern.”

I swallowed yet more unresolved pain. “You were once.”

His jaw ticked with two opposing forces. Part of him recalled our togetherness, remembered our kindness toward one another. The other rebelled against it, slandering such things with a dirty curse. “Fuck, you’re still hung up on things that meant nothing.”

I couldn’t stop my jerk. “You can be mad at me for entering uninvited, but you can’t be mean for no reason.”

“Reason?” He scoffed. “You gave me plenty of reasons by ignoring my explicit commands not to return.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have left without a single goodbye—”

“Well, you shouldn’t have found me!”

“I didn’t find you. I answered your damn advertisement!”

“We’re not bloody children anymore, Olin! What happened in the past is obsolete.”

“To you maybe!” My skin flushed. I wasn’t good at confrontation. I’d never been one to pick fights. I was more of a peacemaker. A pacifier. It was why I’d never had a frank conversation with my parents that I’d missed them when I was young. That I’d needed them even though I was capable of making my own stupid packed lunches.

“Whoa, quit the shouting, okay?” Justin placed himself between us, his forehead creased with concern. Facing me, he asked softly, “Check on him? Why?”

I laughed under my breath, frustrated beyond belief. “Why? Did you not see his injuries?”

The bruise on his jaw.

The cut on his lip.

Gil stiffened as if I’d given away all his secrets. Shoving hands into his hoodie pocket, he stormed toward a trestle table chock-full of glass jars containing brushes and rags. “She’s seeing things. I actually fear for her mental stability. Get rid of her, will you, Miller?”

My heart physically hiccupped as if he’d reached into my chest and squeezed.

It didn’t matter that his back rippled with stress. It didn’t matter that his body shook or his eyes gleamed with things he refused to say.

He was being undeniably nasty.

And I deserved better.

You should go.

My chin swooped up.

In a minute.

Brushing past Justin, I went to Gil as he grabbed a bottle of paint and shook it violently. His messy hair tangled around his forehead and ears. His harsh eyebrows tugged down over harsher eyes as if he could eradicate me from his life as he’d done in the past.

“I know I did something to make you hate me when we were kids, but...we’re adults now.” I ducked in front of him, wedging myself against the table.

His height and bulk pressed against me heavily, even though we didn’t touch. He shuddered. His hand rose as if to tuck hair behind my ear before falling into a fist by his thigh. “Is that what you think?” His voice roughened with bitterness. “That you did something to make me leave you?”

My knees turned to water. “Wasn’t it? I mean...it had to have been my fault. Why else did you—”

“Enough.” His tone strangled. He slammed the bottle of paint onto the table behind me. He stalked away as if he was two seconds from either punching me or punching himself.

I spoke to his retreating back. “I didn’t come to discuss the past, Gil.”

Liar.

“You’re looking for a model, and I’m looking for a job. I fit most of the attributes of your ad. How about we both agree to move on and focus on that?”

He spun to face me. His head cocked, causing more rogue hair to cascade over his forehead. A few dark locks tangled with black eyelashes, giving me the incredible urge to brush them away. “I don’t need a model anymore.”

“You do. I overheard you guys talking.”

“You eavesdropped as well as broke in?”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you need to start working on a project very soon.”

He looked at the paint-speckled concrete as if this conversation had drained him of all reserves. “I don’t want the job. Don’t need it. So I don’t need you.”

“You literally just said you needed the money.”

“You. Out.” His hand rose. “Immediately.”

“Okay, I think tempers have gotten a little hot over here.” Justin appeared between us, breaking whatever tense bubble that’d formed. “Let me get this straight. Olin offered to be a model, and you turned her down?” He shook his head. “Gilbert, man, what the fuck?”

Gil bared his teeth. “I told you. I’m not doing the commission.”

“What does she mean you were injured, by the way?” Justin’s tone lowered with worry. “Is that why you’re favouring your left arm?”

“I paint with my right. My left doesn’t matter.”

Justin huffed. “You’re a prick.”

Gil looked at the ceiling, shielding himself with rage. “Something I finally agree with. Now, can we wrap this up? I have something I need to do.”

I cleared my throat, ready to argue, but Justin fought my battle for me. He waved a hand in my direction. “Proportionally, she’d be a very good asset. A perfect canvas.”

“Not gonna happen.” Gil brushed past both of us, his boots heavy.

“Just take a look at her. Like I said, the money from Paradise Advertising is totally worthwhile.” Justin trotted after his friend. “It’s not gonna kill you to interview her, is it?”

“It might,” Gil grumbled.

I sucked in a breath, hating how my stomach fluttered with idiotic butterflies. I shuffled forward, letting my jacket fall off my shoulders, revealing my Lycra leggings and T-shirt.

Gil slammed to a halt, his gaze locking onto me.

Sexual tension sprang from nowhere, hissing in the chilly air.

I shivered as his gaze traced my figure almost unwillingly, as if his temper was protection. Protection from everything I made him feel.

“Just interview me, Gil,” I whispered, cursing the slight feather in my tone. The softness that shouldn’t be there.

He stiffened as he tore his eyes from my body. His left arm hung stiff and sore—totally obvious to me that he still suffered pain but not obvious to Justin who grabbed it and shook it as if he could shake common sense into a guy who’d never been good with the word.

If Gil had had common sense when he was a teenager, he would’ve known that I loved him. He would’ve known that I couldn’t just switch it off like he had. That he’d destroyed me when he took that love away.

The urge to shrug back into my jacket made my hands curl around the cuffs.

“Look at her.” Justin pointed at me. “Perfect proportion between shoulders and hips. Not too busty. Long legs. I betcha she’s flexible. And the best part...” He narrowed his eyes at Gil. “She’s available, right now. She’s here, ready to work. So...get painting.”

“You’re not my boss, Miller.” Gil pushed him out of the way, prowling past me with a glower. His speed made air lick around my exposed arms, ordering me to hoist up my jacket and protect myself from the frosty chill that surrounded Gil wherever he went.

I zipped my jacket with a heavy sigh.

Justin groaned under his breath. “Don’t worry, O. Let me talk to him tonight and—”

“I won’t change my mind.” Gil headed toward the shadows at the opposite end of the warehouse. “She can’t be here.”

“I’ll make him hire you.” Justin smiled. “Either that or I’ll help you find a job. Do you, eh, need cash now? You strapped?”

My cheeks flared with heat. “I’m good.” I didn’t want some boy from school thinking I was days away from homelessness, even if that was true. “I have savings.”

“Okay, great.” He grinned. “In that case, want to grab a late dinner? My shout? Be good to catch up.”

My stomach grumbled at the offer, but I shook my head politely. “Thanks, Justin, but I really should be getting home.”

I need to nurse my wounds in private.

“I could always drop you off after—”

A shrill cell phone ring shattered the tension of the warehouse. Gil flinched as his hand shot into his jeans pocket and pulled out the offending device. He froze as another ear-piercing ring sounded. Instead of answering like a normal person, he pressed accept, shot us a guarded look, then jogged to the office and slammed the door.

Justin rolled his eyes. “That guy has privacy issues.”

“He do that a lot when the phone rings?”

“Yep. Never takes a call where he can be overheard.”

I supposed that wasn’t all that strange. I didn’t like talking on the phone in public either.

With Gil gone, my desire to leave escalated. “Well, I guess I’ll get going, seeing as I got a second refusal.” I smiled half-heartedly. “Least I tried.”

Justin scowled. “I don’t know what his problem is. The commission is definitely worth his while, and you’d be perfect for it.”

“Ah, well.” Moving toward the exit, I added, “Nice to see you again.”

“Yeah, so random, huh?” He walked with me until we got to the roller door and its small pedestrian access to the side. “I can’t believe it’s been so long since we were all at school together.”

“Yeah, me too.” Bizarre how life worked and intertwined. I placed my hand on the door handle. However, a question niggled at the back of my mind. “I didn’t know you guys were such good friends to work together. I thought you were practically enemies, actually.”

Because of me.

Justin lounged against the roller, crossing his arms with a chuckle. “Yeah, he was pissed that we dated. But that’s in the past. And we don’t technically work together. I check in on him now and again. We bumped into each other a year ago and kinda stayed in touch.”

“That’s nice.”

“Strange really, seeing as you’re right. We didn’t talk much at school. He’s talented, though. And that’s what I respect. Even if he is a prick most of the time.”

My heart squeezed, remembering a younger Gil.

He’d never been a prick to me.

Until he was.

“You’ve seen his YouTube channel?” Justin asked, his eyes lingering on me.

I exhaled in a rush. “Yes. I researched him after I saw the ad. I didn’t know it was him though, thanks to the hood.”

“Bet you wouldn’t have come for the interview if you’d known.” His gaze travelled to the office where Gil had disappeared into.

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m a sucker for pain.”

And I’ve been searching for him ever since he vanished.

Justin laughed gently. “You certainly riled him up tonight.”

“Seems just my presence has that power these days.” Awkwardness fell, signalling an end to our weird conversation. “Anyway...I better be—”

“Going. Sure. Sorry.” He opened the exit for me. “Guess I’ll see ya ’round, O.”

“I guess.” I smiled again and stepped into the chilly darkness.

“Wait!” The loud bark wrenched my head around as Gil jogged from his office. His phone remained clutched in his fist, but the call had ended.

“What’s up?” Justin asked.

Gil ignored him, not stopping until he was within touching distance to me. Stress lines decorated his face. A heaviness that wasn’t there before lurked in the depths of his eyes, and a barely restrained violence etched his jaw.

He looked defeated.

He looked dangerous.

Instinct ordered me to back away, but I held my ground.

He breathed hard, the bruise on his jaw and cut lip demanding care as he held up his hand, a silent request for me to stay. “Be here. Tomorrow. Nine a.m. sharp.”

I blinked. “What?”

“You heard me. I’ve changed my mind. I’ll do the commission, but I’m running out of time. Be here first thing. I don’t know when we’ll be done. Depends if I like my concept or not and how long it takes to paint you.”

“So...you’re giving me the job?”

“You’ve got work for the next couple of days.” He gritted his teeth as if he already struggled with the idea. “We’ll discuss any repeats after.”

“Not exactly reliable employment.”

“Take it or leave it.” He crossed his arms gingerly, pain flashed across his features.

My stomach rumbled embarrassingly, reminding me that no money equalled no food, and my heartache was worthless.

For a second, I deliberated disclosing the parts of me that might make me a less than ideal canvas. But this job wasn’t given freely; I would keep my secrets until tomorrow.

Holding out my hand for him to shake, I said softly, “I’ll take it.”

For the longest second, Gil just stared at my hand. He didn’t uncross his arms, making nerves thread their way down my spine. He looked trapped between fear and want.

Justin cleared his throat; Gil rushed to capture my offered palm.

The moment his touch met mine, it was as if seven years had vanished and we were hidden behind the school gym, tucked together in the dusk, our bodies aching, our limbs shaking, our hearts gasping to be brave.

I bit my lip as Gil stiffened, squeezing my fingers until they throbbed. He clutched me as if he wanted to brand me. As if he tasted the past and buckled beneath the memories.

Memories of what we’d once shared.

The openness.

The hope.

The beginning of something so much bigger than us.

Us.

There had once been an incredible us.

A blistering connection between a privileged girl and a poor boy who weren’t from the same existence.

That same power—the force of forever and belonging—burned with a ferocity that turned my insides to ash and heart to flame.

Full-blown star-crossed temptation.

His fingers switched from squeezing to quaking.

I froze as desire bled from my palm and wrapped tendrils around his wrist, binding him to me, wishing I could keep him this time.

His skin was cold.

Icy as a ghost.

Yet he hadn’t always been that way.

There’d been a time when his skin had been as warm as the sunshine in the park where we’d sneak after school. Where his touch sent wings of joy through me instead of clouds of dread.

The sensation of unfinished business and complicated truths made pain manifest.

I couldn’t bear it.

I tore my hand from his, shoving it deep into my jacket pocket. He must’ve felt the same agonising bolt as he ripped his fingers away, wiped them on his jeans, and raked them through his unruly hair.

Justin’s eyes bored into me, then into Gil; his forehead furrowed as if he could taste whatever we’d conjured.

Awkwardness settled.

A strange kind of embarrassment and fear.

“Tomorrow.” Gil nodded curtly, gave Justin a sour look, then turned and stalked back into the shadows.

The shadows that had claimed him for their own.

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