Chapter Fifteen
The canvas mocked me. I stood there, brush clenched in my hand like it was the neck of all my frustrations. Streaks of vibrant oils—scarlet, azure, emerald—clashed on the white expanse before me. They should”ve been flowers. I loved impressionism. it had been my favourite style ever since I’d seen one of Monet’s lily pad paintings as a child. impressionism was like life. From far away it looked beautiful, but up close it just looked like a mess and it was almost impossible to make out what the image was supposed to be.
”Ugh,” I muttered, stepping back. ”Pathetic.”
I reached up and yanked the earbuds from my ears. Normally playing music while I painted was my sanctuary, but not this time. Now it felt like even the music had turned against me, each note grating on my nerves, amplifying the chaos in my head.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the ball, and now it was less than two hours away and my worries were becoming full on panic. All those people, all those masks. Anyone of them could be the person watching me.
He’d left me another envelope, there pushed under my door when I’d got back with Kate from the shopping trip. This one had been even scarier than normal. He’d seen me kissing Tristan in Blackvellyn a couple of weeks ago, and ever since then his letters had moved from flattery and adoration, to something darker. I was his, he’d written. We were meant to be together and Tristan was not worthy of me. I’d ignored them, but this one had been even more demanding. It had told me not to go to the ball, that I wasn’t safe and I needed protecting. That he would watch over me and keep me safe, but he couldn’t protect me there with so many people around.
I’d been so excited after getting my costume, and now this person was ruining it, and I hated him for that. I’d got angry this time, tearing the letter into pieces and dropping them in the bin. Kate had looked concerned until I’d told her we were going to the damn ball whether this prick liked it or not. She’d cheered me on, then disappeared back to her own room to shower.
With Kate gone, my bravado had faded, and I’d paced the room nervous and unsure what to do. Unable to find any peace, I’d come here, believing an hour of painting would help. it hadn’t, and now I was even more frustrated.
My phone buzzed and I glanced down at a message from Kate.
Where are you? Knocked on the door but no answer.
I typed out a reply and hit send.
At art room. Needed to chill for a bit. Back soon to get ready.
Get back soon! Need to make sure everything smooth and shaved in case you get lucky tonight!
I laughed and liked her message, before setting the phone down and picking up my brush again. Just a few more minutes and then I’d go. I twirled the smooth wooden handle around my fingers, my mind wandering.
It wasn’t just the weird letters. This ball was the first real date I’d ever been on and I had no idea what Tristan would expect. He’d kissed me, sure, but would he expect more tonight? And would I be able to say no? Not that I thought he’d be at all pushy, but the way I felt every time he took me in his arms and kissed me, I knew I was tempted to go further, even though I knew it was wrong.
I half thought of calling my mother, to ask her what to do, then immediately dismissed the idea. She would laugh at me, and only make me feel even worse about myself than I already did. But she’d dated, she must know what people did when they dated, and yet she’d always forbidden me from doing anything like that.
I remembered being fifteen and watching a film with her one night. In it, the woman in the film touched herself, thinking of a man she fancied, and my mother had turned it off, then slapped me across the face and told me if she ever caught me doing something like that to myself, she’d cut off my fingers. Only sluts did that, and I needed to be perfect for my husband. I’d believed her completely. She’d told me the facts of life, of course, I wasn’t completely naive, but her shifting standards were hard to keep up with and not being able to guess what she wanted from me made me nearly as nervous as it did when I was at home. At home she could punish me, and here I was safe, but I didn’t trust her, and if she found out I’d done anything she would be ashamed of, I knew I’d pay for it in the holidays.
One more year. I just needed to keep her happy for one more year, then I could get a job on the other side of the country and leave that house for good. I needed this qualification though, and if she made good on her threat and pulled me out early, I was finished. I’d be trapped there forever.
I sighed and glanced again at the canvas. A single bold stroke of pale blue slicing through the chaos of colours was now staring back at me. The colour reminded me of Tristan’s eyes; they held a certain depth that made me want to drown in them, and yet they sparked an anxiety in me that made my insides churn.
A new message popped on my screen. Tristan.
I can”t wait to see you tonight
My heart fluttered and then sank, a strange coalescence of anticipation and dread.
I took a deep breath before typing back,
Same here.
I needed to go tonight. I needed to get close to Tristan, whatever that meant, so I could get closer to his friends and find myself the partner my mother seemed desperate for me to get. Maybe Nate? He was the son of a Lord apparently, and I was sure that would impress even my mother.
I sucked on the end of the paintbrush, thinking about him in the gym. How his huge shoulders and chest tapered down into a narrow waist and powerful legs. Those keen dark eyes, so expressive and deep that I just wanted to lose myself in them. The tattoos I’d love to study, running my fingers down each line, tracing them gently. Tristan said he was never interested in anyone, but maybe I could get him to notice me. If I needed to find someone, Nate was perfect. I’d seen the way that punch bag had swung when he hit it, seen the strength in his body. Nate could protect me. I just had to make him want to.
My tongue danced over the end of the paintbrush as I lost myself in the thought of Nate’s body under my touch until the door creaked open and the sudden draft broke me out of my reverie. I quickly shoved the paintbrush into the pot of water next to me.
“Paige? Is that you?” David said, appearing at the doorway.
“Yes, it’s just me. Sorry, I assumed you went home on weekends.”
”You okay?” he asked, stepping inside and letting the door shut behind him.
”I”m fine,” I lied, forcing a smile. His gaze flickered to the canvas and his eyebrows shot up.
”Wow, Paige. This is...different.”
I glanced back at the canvas; its vibrant colours now had a hint of darkness to them. It wasn’t pretty anymore, it was wild, untamed, like my feelings at this moment.
”Not up to your taste?” I asked defensively. He shook his head quickly.
”No, no…it’s not that,” he said. ”It’s just…I’ve never seen you paint like this before.”
”Maybe I”m changing,” I murmured, avoiding his gaze. There was a silence between us before he cleared his throat.
“Something on your mind?”
“No, not really. Well, kind of…” I said. We both laughed. David perched on a nearby stool and looked up at me.
“Talk to me,” he said. “I’m a good listener.”
I smiled. Whatever Kate had joked about, I had been surprised to find out David wasn’t married. He wasn’t good looking per se, with a balding head, and straggly greying hair, but he wasn’t bad looking. Just an ordinary guy with a middle aged spread across his belly and a friendly smile. He was ignored by most students, and treated like shit by the snobby ones, who saw him as little more than a cleaner. I’d even seen one guy shove him on purpose as he’d walked past, and pretend it was accidental. Another time, I’d seen one of the guys trip him up, then claim complete innocence, saying David must have tripped over his own feet. David had said nothing, but his face had gone red, and I really felt for the guy. It was why I didn”t mind chatting to him. Someone needed to be nice to him.
“It”s nothing major, just… I’m going to this ball tonight.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Really? I wouldn’t have thought it was your kind of scene with all the drunken revelry. You seem more mature than that.”
I blushed a little at his words. “Well, it’s not normally my kind of thing, but someone asked me to go, so I said yes, and now…”
“Someone asked you to go? Like a date?”
I nodded. “Yes, and now, well, I guess I’m just nervous he’ll be disappointed.”
David smiled. “No one could be disappointed if you turned up on a date with them, Paige. You shouldn’t put yourself down like that. You’re a beautiful, lovely young woman.”
I smiled, my face growing warm at the compliment. “Thank you, David. I appreciate that.”
“Of course, if you aren’t comfortable with the guy you’re going with, you could always stay home. There will be other dates.”
“Well, yes, I had considered it,” I admitted. “I just didn’t want to let him down.”
David shrugged. “He”s a guy, there’s other girls. He”ll get over it, Paige. you have to think about what’s best for you.”
I nodded. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Maybe I will stay home.” I could tell him I got sick and couldn’t go. I could tell my mother that too. She’d never know.
David cleared his throat, stood, and stretched his arms. ”Well, I should be getting back to work. Don”t stay here too long, Paige. Give yourself some time to relax.”
I nodded, ”I will.”
He left the room, glancing back with a smile before disappearing into the shadowy hallway.
Once he was gone, I packed away my things, thinking. I’d call Tristan on the way back, tell him I wasn’t well. I glanced back up at my painting. And that could just be painted over on Monday. What a waste of time and paint, I thought.
It’s because you’re no good at this, the whiny little voice in my head told me. You’re not good enough, not talented enough to even be here. God knows why you got a place, let alone won a scholarship. You’re useless, worthless. A waste of oxygen.
I shook the voice away, shoving my sketchbook into my bag with more force than necessary. I didn’t need to listen to it. I didn’t need to take it seriously. Just because I couldn’t concentrate today, didn’t mean I was a failure. It just meant…
I had to be good enough. This scholarship had to mean I was enough. I’d fought with my mother to take art for my degree. She”d wanted me to take business or law, something that would give me status, but although I had the academic results, they weren’t areas I wanted to pursue. I just wanted to paint.
I’d even argued with my mother over it. I never argued about anything with her, just accepted her word, her way, but with my degree, I’d fought to do art. She hadn’t taken my disobedience well, and I’d come home from school one night to find every painting in my room had been slashed with a knife, leaving them in shreds. She’d thrown the paints at me, and the palettes, covering me and my clothes in paint, and then attacked me, screaming and raging as she dragged me back to the spare room by my hair. I’d had to wear long sleeved shirts for a week, even though the weather had been really warm. No one was allowed to see the bruises.
I’d pleaded with her, and begged her, saying I would do anything, if she would just let me study art and painting. Eventually, she agreed and given in, telling me I owed her, and that one day she’d come to collect. I couldn’t think of anything else my mother could take from me, so I agreed. Three years later, and she had enrolled me in this masters course. I was baffled, but there was no way I was turning it down, and I’d jumped at the chance.
Now I was standing here with substandard paintings, and a sick feeling of my stomach of what might happen if I failed. I couldn’t go back to that house. I needed to keep her happy and I needed to make it work. If that meant using Tristan to get to Nate or one of the other guys, then I had to make it happen. Any way I could.
My phone rang suddenly, making me jump and I answered it without looking at the screen.
“Hey there, sunshine.” Tristan’s voice came over the line, warm and friendly, and I immediately felt better.
“Hey.”
“Are you ok?”
“Yeah, I’m good. Just at the art room.”
“Shouldn’t you be at home getting ready? I thought girls took hours getting all glammed up,” he teased.
I grinned. “Yes they do, and I’m heading back now.”
“You got a costume?”
“I did.”
“So what is it?” he asked.
“You’ll just have to wait and see,” I teased back, grabbing my bag and heading out of the door.
“You kill me, Paige. But I can’t wait to see you. Pick you up at half seven?”
“That sounds perfect, but um…”
“What is it?”
“Well, I was wondering if we could give my friend a lift? Our other friends have already left. Something about pre-party drinking but Kate hadn’t finished her costume. It’s fine if you don’t want to, though,” I added hurriedly, already feeling guilty for even asking.
“No, that”s absolutely fine, sunshine. I’ll have to borrow Bast’s car, but he’ll not be needing it till later tonight.”
“Who’s Bast?”
“My other housemate,” Tristan said. “Posh, privileged and boring. You’ll hate him. But his car has a back seat and mine, not so much. See you both then.”
“Thank you Tristan,” I said. “See you soon.”
He hung up, and I set off for the dorm, smiling the whole way back.