Chapter 10 Gianna
Gianna
FOUR YEARS AGO
My fingers are coated in UV resin, but it’s worth it.
Flakes of clear coat fall from my skin as I rub my right thumb and forefinger together while holding a hairdryer in my other hand.
I moved aside my installation paper artwork to create a new one, and now four full-face, skull-shaped tactical masks stare back at me, each one painted a different chrome colour.
The black mask has a twisted grin and deep scars. It’s so polished, I can see myself reflected in its glare. The red mask has cavernous grooves, high cheekbones and sunken eye sockets that make it look like the devil.
Curing with UV light leaves behind a yellow tinge, so I experimented with fibreglass resin for the white chrome skull. I touch the edge, finding it’s no longer tacky. The hairdryer did the trick. I pat myself on the back for the ghost-white I achieved for the Jason-style hockey mask.
I saved my favourite till last. The deep silver mask is the same gunmetal grey as the Mustang. I cut aluminium wire and created the mouthpiece to look sewn shut with vertical bars.
Unplugging the hairdryer, I wonder what’s taking Monz so long.
She skipped classes and spent all afternoon working with me, so I can’t take credit for the red mask – she painted all of that on her own.
I left the curing with her so I could watch my brother’s basketball practice till she texted me to say the rest of the costumes were ready, when I came back to take over.
I grab my phone and check the time. Basketball practice should be finished by now, so I whip my bag across my shoulders, tucking my amethyst into the side pocket. As I’m about to head out, I see Professor Quick walking past, a large stack of papers in his hands.
He grins when he spots me. ‘What are you working on today, Gianna?’
I gesture to the new masterpieces scattered on my table.
‘They look good,’ Professor Quick says, giving an approving nod as he moves toward the large doors. ‘We can chat tomorrow about what you’re submitting for the first-year showcase, but I think it should be that.’ He points at the masks.
‘Oh, no, they’re just for the carnival tonight. You know, Lucifer’s Dream.’
‘Even better. They’ll have a lived-in story.’ He nods toward the equipment scattered across the table. ‘Make sure you put your tools away, and don’t forget – the gates for the creative wing shut at six now.’
Refusing to take two trips, I tuck the curing lamp under my right arm and stack the enamel paints and brushes into my left hand.
I make my way to the supply closet. Shuffling into the long, narrow room behind the whiteboard wall, I almost drop the lamp, but I save it in time, squeezing it harder between my elbow and my ribs.
I consider flipping on the light switch as I enter, but the late afternoon sunset filtering through the main windows allows just enough light in to see.
I crouch down by the shelves at the back of the room and have started returning the enamel bottles according to colour, when I hear footsteps slowly approaching.
Prickles shoot down my spine and I look back. At the storeroom entrance, a figure stands.
My eyes sweep across his black trackies, black hoodie and a black chrome skull mask. I breathe a sigh of relief when blue cuts through the eye holes.
‘Ryker,’ I breathe, feeling my shoulders relax. ‘Jesus, what are you doing?’
He stalks toward me wordlessly, the silence disturbed by stray charcoal and pastel chalks being crushed beneath his boots.
I watch, unable to move or even blink as he pushes the easels, sending them scraping across the floor to the side.
I laugh awkwardly and repeat my question, thinking this is a joke, but he doesn’t answer.
This is a joke, right?
My heart pounds. My stomach swirls with … something. He steps forward again, and my heart somersaults while a stab of heat strikes between my legs. Am I turned on? I should be scared. I should run. But I don’t move. I can’t. I don’t want to.
Another slow, torturous step. My skin puckers with goosebumps. And then I realise …
I like it.
He cocks his head to the side, as if he’s heard what’s going on in my head. Chills run down my spine, along with a buzz of adrenaline. It’s the same feeling I get when I watch a scary movie, even if it is from behind a pillow.
My feet are glued to the floor as he comes to stand toe-to-toe with me. My neck cranes up to look at his eyes. A weight settles deep in my stomach, slowly sinking to my core, and a shiver travels through my body.
The intensity of his eyes burns right through my clothes, singeing my skin as his gaze travels up my body. My heart kicks against my chest, and I realise that the heat brewing deep in my belly is arousal.
He leans even further into me. Still facing him, I step back but my foot catches on some canvases piled on the floor.
I stumble backward, but his arms envelop me, circling my waist in time.
The heat from his chest seeps through his hoodie into my own as he holds me.
I’m a dead weight in his arms. It feels like we’re in our own little bubble.
I look back, glimpsing the metal twinkle of the lino-cutting tools that would have pierced my skin had I landed.
Turning back to him, I stare into his blue eyes. He holds me for a moment longer before standing me upright. Tentatively, I peel the mask off his face to reveal him smiling at me.
‘Guess you chose your mask. Why were you scaring me?’ I ask, my voice still trembling on the last word.
His eyes shimmer as if he’s found an answer to a question that’s been bugging him. He leans in and I feel his breath hot on my skin. Mint mixes with his scent of bergamot, leather and wood.
‘Because you like it,’ he breathes.
I stare at him, not knowing what to say. I can’t deny it.
My fingers fall to his chest. ‘Your heart is pounding,’ I whisper.
‘Because I like it too.’
We stay this way for what seems like both the longest and shortest minute of my life. As if we’re silently asking and answering questions. Even though we’re in the dim storeroom, I feel completely exposed.
Another set of footsteps in the main room prickles my ears. Ryker brings me completely upright and a breath whooshes from my lungs as he holds me against his body.
‘Gia!’ a voice calls, making me jerk.
I drop the mask as Ryker places a hand on top of my mouth, suffocating my breaths.
‘Gia, where you at?’ Jace shouts again.
Our bubble is burst. Jace’s footfalls get heavier before he stops right at the storeroom entrance.
Jace’s eyes widen as they bounce from me to Ryker, then they narrow. ‘What the fuck are you guys doing in here?’ Jace arches a brow, holding my backpack in his hand.
I shuffle out of Ryker’s grasp, immediately miss his warmth, as a rock drops in my stomach at how this must look. Jace’s best friend and his little sister, holding each other in a dark storeroom.
My heart stutters and I don’t know what else to do other than burst out into an animated laugh and swat Ryker’s arm, as he bends to pick up the dropped mask. Next thing, I’m leading us out of the storeroom and into the open.
‘This guy thought it would be funny to scare me. You know, like in those old Scream movies when someone is in the dark and then the main character goes to investigate?’ Shit, I’m blabbering.
‘And you sit there screaming at the TV wondering why they’re so silly and then …
’ Dear god, make me stop. ‘And then … well, I guess I was the fool. You scared me.’ I let my laughter fade out.
Jace definitely doesn’t believe a single word coming from my mouth and Ryker’s trying his hardest not to laugh.
Awkward.
I step forward and grab my backpack from Jace. The silence is deafening.
I was wrong. This is now the longest minute of my life.
‘C’mon, Gia.’ He runs a hand down his face and points outside. ‘Renny said the Camino is ready at the garage. So, we’ll get it now before round two of tryouts starts.’
I nod. Even though I can’t drive, the Camino is mine and I’ve always gone with Jace to drop off and pick up the truck for its annual registration check.
‘I’ll take her,’ Ryker says.
‘Like fuck you will.’
Ryker lets out a low laugh. ‘Why not?’
‘I just caught you guys doing fuck knows what in the damn storeroom!’ Jace eyes us both sternly. ‘Did you not hear anything I said at practice?’
Heat floods to my cheeks. What did he say?
I fiddle around in my bag, not knowing what else to do. My fingertips graze a packet of Razzles. Thank god, a distraction.
‘C’mon bro. You know you don’t have enough time to get the truck and take it home. Besides, how would you get back here?’ Ryker ignores Jace’s threat and combats it with an innocent smile. ‘Gia and I will walk to Renny’s, pick up the Camino and meet you back at yours.’
‘No,’ Jace says firmly. ‘Gia is going to go wait at the garage for me, and after tryouts I’ll take her home.’
I pull a face. ‘Why do I need to wait for you?’
Jace’s eyes flash at me with lack of patience. ‘Because you don’t have a licence. You still need a supervising driver.’
Ryker cuts in. ‘You want her to walk to the garage alone?’
I frown. ‘Hey! I’m not a kid. The garage is right across the fountain.’
Ryker’s lips tilt up in sympathy, but he’s not really sorry for anything because he continues. ‘This week, of all weeks, when the rivalry is this tense? ECU are demolishing anything and everything in Booker Bay.’
Jace battles with his decision for a second before he sighs and agrees. I don’t push the whole ‘alone’ thing because I’m just grateful we’re turning around to leave and forget this whole awkward moment. We’re almost at the doors when I hear someone shouting.
‘Hey!’ Monique hollers, approaching from down the corridor.
From her large tote bag that says 2 sexy for the bare minimum, she pulls out a black hoodie and tosses it at Jace. I realise it’s the same outfit Ryker has on.