Chapter Eight
“So, how have you been?” Rune asked.
We were eating ice cream in his car again, the a/c blasting. I didn't care that there wasn't a view. The only view I wanted was of Rune. He had come back. Holy shit, he had come back. I wouldn't worry about him leaving again. I'd just enjoy the view while I had it.
“I've been good,” I said.
“You finish that painting yet?”
I paused with the spoon halfway to my mouth. “You mean my nemesis?”
He didn't even grin at that, just nodded.
“Funny you should ask.” I took my bite, swallowed, and thought about the painting. I hadn't touched it since I'd met him. “I've started three more.”
“Three more warriors?” Rune whispered.
“Yes. Maybe the reason I couldn't finish the first one was that it's meant to be a set. Four different men on four different battlefields.” I frowned down at my ice cream as I thought about how I'd been consumed every night by painting. At first, it was an escape from my thoughts of Rune, but then it became an obsession. “I've finished two of them and the other two are nearly there, including my nemesis. I was planning on finishing him tonight.”
“Finishing him,” Rune murmured.
“Yes, why?” I transferred my frown to him. “You look upset.”
“Upset?” He laughed. “Why would I be upset about your painting? I was just fascinated by the process. I've never had any artistic talent.”
“How do you know? You could have been a famous painter in your past life.” I knocked his shoulder playfully with mine.
“Sure.” He rolled his eyes. “The famous warrior artist. What was his name?”
I chuckled. “Well, maybe not a famous one then. But people have multiple talents, Rune. You know, Jim Carrey is an artist.”
“Jim Carrey? The actor?”
“Yes.” I smugly ate my ice cream. “And David Bowie painted too. I've seen both of their work, and I'm not a huge fan of Carrey's, but it's still good. Bowie's is better. I mean, art is very subjective.”
“So they don't just paint puppy dogs or splotches?”
“Ugh, modern abstract art.” I rolled my eyes.
“Hold on. You're an artist who owns a gallery, but you don't like modern art?”
“I'm a person. As I just said, art is subjective. I have my likes and dislikes. One of my greatest dislikes is modern abstract art. Frankly, I'm not a huge fan of the old stuff either. I mean, I get it with van Gogh, but I still don't like it.”
“Me either.” He grimaced. “All those weird faces. But the paint splatters are the worst. I truly don't understand how that's art.”
“I don't appreciate that crap either. I took an art class once because I wanted to see if I could learn better techniques. The teacher told me that I had to learn how to paint realistically first, so that I could surpass that and go abstract later. Know the rules to break them.”
Rune snorted.
“Yes, I felt the same. But it did make me realize something.”
“What's that?”
“Art cannot be taught. Use of the tools can be. People can show you how paint should be laid so it won't crack, how to prepare canvases properly, and how certain media is best employed. They can show you what the tools can do—how certain paintbrushes give different results. They can even teach you about things like perspective, shading, and the Golden Triangle. But the talent to create art, a person's creativity —that can't be taught. And true talent doesn't need to know how to use tools. Give a really talented artist any medium, and they will craft something spectacular. Sometimes it's even more spectacular because they aren't hindered by what someone has told them. True talent comes from the soul, not the mind.”
“Damn, woman. You just gave me the shivers.”
I giggled. “It's the ice cream and the air conditioning.”
“No, sweetheart, it's you,” he whispered.
I stared at Rune for a second before going back to my ice cream.
“True talent comes from the soul,” Rune murmured. “I think that goes for every talent. There was that paraplegic guy who could only move his toe, or something like that, and he wrote novels.”
“There was a paraplegic artist too,” I said. “But I mean, what else are they going to do, just sitting around all day.”
Rune gaped at me.
“Oh, fuck!” I exclaimed and clapped a hand over my mouth. “That was bad, wasn't it? I shouldn't have said that.”
He burst out laughing. “You better watch what you say. These days, you'll get canceled for a slip of the tongue.”
A slip of the tongue. Damn it, now I'm shivering.
“Oh, I know. I made the mistake of sticking up for J.K. Rowling once.” I grimaced at him.
“Dear Gods!” Rune exclaimed. “I'm surprised they didn't bomb your gallery.”
“It wasn't pretty.”
I stared at him grimly for a few seconds and then we burst out laughing together.
“All right, then. Where's the good in cancel culture?” he asked.
I thought about it. “It's an improvement.”
“An improvement on what?”
“War. Hatred. Racism. People have had enough of that shit. So they've taken things to the opposite extreme. It's a good start. Their hearts are also in the right place. They just don't realize that focusing on bad things only makes them grow larger. They've gotten overly sensitive and even cruel in their quest to do the right thing.”
The crusader came to mind then, his zeal radiating from the canvas. He believed he was doing the right thing too. He had great faith in it. But the truth was, he was killing people for having a different opinion. At its foundation, this new idea was similar but far superior. A step in the right direction. A less bloody battle. If only people could get over the need to be right and push their rightness on everyone else. Maybe that's where we were headed. Baby steps.
“I have hope that they'll learn,” I went on. “It's inevitable. Evolution of the species. It never stops. They keep reaching for better, and they've already come so far.” I smiled softly. “The human race astounds me sometimes.”
“Me too,” Rune whispered. “But not always in a good way.”
“But that's the great thing about immortality,” I said. “Time makes everything insignificant. This too will pass.”
His stare softened as he said, “Not everything.”
After a pause that I used to collect myself, I said, “You know, I wouldn't have slept with you on our first date if I thought there was a chance for a relationship.”
“You're not that kind of girl?” Rune smirked.
“Something like that.”
“Well, I'm totally that kind of guy.”
I snorted and smacked his arm.
“Stop hitting me, woman!” he declared. “You're so violent!”
“Oh, do my little smacks hurt the big bad hound?”
Rune grinned. “Maybe. I think you need to kiss it better.”
“Kiss what better?” I countered.
“Damn. Now I wish you had hit me in the—”
“Don't say it!” I pointed at him with my spoon.
“Mouth,” he finished with a smirk. “What did you think I was going to say?”
“Uh-huh.” I grimaced at him. “I don't believe for one second that you were going to say mouth.”
“Because I'm a big bad hound dog?”
“Yup.”
“Hey, do you have a/c in your apartment?”
“Of course. Why?”
“Because this hound wants to do things to you that will be very uncomfortable in this weather. Hot things.”
“Hot things, eh?” I lifted a brow. “But what if I want to slow things down now that there might be more for us?”
Rune's face twitched into something goofy, but then his expression hardened. “Lora, I don't—”
“Right,” I cut him off. “You came back to play with me a little longer, but that doesn't mean you want anything lasting.”
“I don't want to want anything lasting,” Rune said. “But I want you too much to just walk away without making more memories.”
“I see,” I whispered.
He sighed. “I get it if you don't want more meaningless sex.”
“If it was so meaningless, what are you doing here, Rune?”
Rune looked down into his lap. His throat worked. His jaw clenched. “I don't know,” he finally said. “I don't fucking know what I'm doing.”
Then his phone rang, and he cursed violently.
“I'm sorry,” Rune said when he looked at the screen. “I have to take this.”
I just nodded.
“Lora.”
“Just answer the damn phone, Rune,” I said.
He slid his finger over the screen and jerked the phone to his ear. “Yeah.” His face twitched. “What?” A pause. “Fuck.” He glanced at me with wide eyes. “All right. I'll be right there.” He hung up and just stared at me.
“What's wrong?”
“It's . . . I've got to go.” Rune handed me his bowl. “Can you hold this for me?”
“Sure.”
He started the car, then sped off. I ate absently, unable to waste ice cream, even under those circumstances. With his wild driving, we got to the gallery in a few minutes.
“Can I come back tonight?” Rune asked.
I wanted to say no. I knew it would be best for both of us. But I couldn't stop myself from saying, “Yes.”
“Thank you. I don't know how late it will be.”
“Call me,” I said. Then drawled, “Oh, wait. You never asked for my number.”
He winced but pulled out his phone again. After unlocking it he traded it for his ice cream, then ate rapidly as I typed in my number.
“Here, I'll take that.” I traded him for his bowl again, now empty.
“Thank you.” Rune chewed at his lip. “Lora, you know it's not meaningless, right?”
“Do I?” I got out of the car.