Chapter 24
The masquerade ball is all anyone can talk about in class the next day. I’ve been so caught up in the whole Leo-is-Rebel, Rebel-is-Leo disaster that I have a mini meltdown when Nadia reminds me it’s tomorrow night and I need a dress.
She’s taken photos of her mum’s old gowns and we scroll through together. ‘I hate buying things I’ll only use once, so I’m going to wear one of these. You could borrow one.’
It sounds perfect until we realize anything full-length on her will just flap around my shins.
Still, the point sticks. Reuse. Make do. It reminds me of Jacopo.
I pull out my phone and type fast: do you know where I can get a second-hand ballgown? Then I shove it away and head for the workstation.
I’ve been orbiting Veronica and Nadia all morning; anyone to keep me from being alone with Leo, the way I dodged him after our kiss too. But like then, there’s no avoiding him in class.
He’s sketching on the canvases and looks up as I approach.
‘We need to talk.’
Yup. Definitely déjà vu. ‘There’s nothing to talk about.’
‘Don’t do that.’
‘Do what?’
‘Act like nothing’s changed.’
I let out a bitter laugh. ‘Everything’s changed.’
Our paintings are already bolted on to the boat panels, too heavy and awkward to move without making a scene, so we’re stuck side by side the whole day.
Everyone else is loud and chatty, calling across the room for brushes and tools.
We work in silence, talking only when Veronica steps in to offer pointers.
By late afternoon, the light filtering through the tall windows has softened to gold, catching dust motes in the air as people begin to pack up.
I steady the ruler against the gilded edge of the frame while Leo paints a line.
He hands it back without looking, and I nearly smudge the detail I’ve just drawn.
Because that’s the thing, isn’t it? He just knows.
Like he knows what I have for breakfast. It happens in real life too. This unspoken understanding.
My shoulders slump as I let out a sigh. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
He drags a hand through his hair, like he’s been bracing for this.
‘You knew who I was,’ I continue. ‘And you said nothing. You let me spill every secret.’ Words tumble faster now. ‘Not only that. You let me think Rebel was someone else.’
‘Jacopo told me you thought it was him,’ he says. ‘Because of the mural. But I was trying to inspire you using the whole person-meets-myth you’re so good at.’
I shake my head. ‘It’s not just that. I thought Rebel came from my world. Not someone who already has every gallery door open to him.’
Leo flinches. ‘So you’d never have got close to me … to him … if you’d known my family was what … wealthy?’
I shrug. ‘Maybe not.’
‘Wow.’ Leo leans back in his chair. ‘And you think I’m the snob. You, of all people, know that’s not me. That’s just who they want me to be.’
I scoff. ‘Poor Leo with his rich artist daddy. Poor Leo who can fail and try again and never fall, because there’ll always be a safety net.’
His jaw tightens. ‘That’s not fair.’
‘No,’ I say. ‘What’s not fair is you pretending you’re just like me.’
Leo’s voice drops. ‘I told you my home life was tricky.’
‘And I believed you. But your version of tricky and mine aren’t the same.’
I grab a rag and start cleaning up some drips. Too hard. ‘Why are you even covering for me? You know I don’t belong here.’
He doesn’t hesitate. ‘You know why.’
I stop mid-scrub. Suddenly it’s there – the kiss we’re both pretending didn’t happen. But the way he’s looking at me now reminds me it totally did.
Then a voice cuts through.
‘Ciao, Evie, I got your text, so I came to get you.’ Jacopo’s eyes dart, then settle on Nadia at the back of the room.
Leo straightens. ‘You asked Jacopo to meet you?’
‘Yeah … no. Kind of.’ My voice wobbles. ‘I asked for help, from someone who gets it.’
I mean someone who knows what it’s like to have to prove yourself, to not start ten steps ahead, someone who has to get by on their own wit. But Leo’s face shutters, and suddenly it feels like I’ve said something I can’t take back – like I’ve chosen Jacopo over him.