Chapter 8 #2
Orian and I both nod along, looking at the piece. It’s the conservation area, capturing one of the many little waterfalls. I think it’s actually from the first time that I watched him from the shadows.
There are darker shades at the corners of the canvas, and I can’t help but ask, “Why the darkness at the edges?”
His cheeks seem to gain warmth at my question, his eyes sparkling as they beam into mine. “I’m glad you noticed. It’s because while I was sketching out this piece, I felt like I was being watched by something.”
“How odd,” Orian remarks, tapping his chin.
Oh, he’s earning a smack for that one later.
Carsons nods. “Yeah, I’ve felt it every time I’ve been in the forest, actually.”
Before Orian can say anything else stupid, I redirect the conversation. “What’s your favorite piece here?”
A different type of light enters his eyes, one that sets something deep inside of me on fire. Maybe it’s a darkness seeping into his deceivingly sweet eyes, rather than light.
“Over here—I haven’t unveiled it yet.” He quickly spins on his heel, walking toward the fountain.
We walk through the crowd, attention gathering at his brisk movement toward a blanketed canvas displayed near the event’s perimeter. Orian and I stand back from him, at the front of the crowd that has migrated over.
“This is my best creation yet, a perfect representation of everything I’ve been searching for.
” Carson’s fingers grip the edge of the satin sheet, and his eyes scan over the people before landing on me.
“I used to only paint in bright colors, but I’m beginning to find the beauty in darker ones and shades of gray. ”
He pulls the sheet away, and instantly I feel as if time stops. For the first time, my tail is completely still. My feet are frozen in place, my heart is lodged in my throat, and my eyes can’t believe what they see.
Because what I see is…my eyes.
He painted my eyes.
At least, I think he did. The shade is exactly the same as mine, captured perfectly, though he’s dotted them with sparkles that I don’t believe are really there.
The eyes—my eyes—are surrounded by gray smoke nearly identical to the shade of my skin. He really got everything so accurate after only a second of seeing them? Just how good is his memory?
Orian’s tail whips the back of my leg, drawing me from being lost in the painting.
The crowd oohs and aahs around us, but Carson’s gaze is locked onto me, his cheeks rosy. “They’re easy to get lost in, huh?”
I open my mouth to say something as I try—and fail—to shake my head, but nothing comes out. All I can do is cross my arms in front of me, my gaze alternating between him and the painting.
“You’re very talented,” I choke out, even though it’s a clear truth.
“What was the inspiration?” Orian pipes up, asking a question that makes me both thankful and want to punch him.
Carson doesn’t hesitate even for a second as he answers, looking back and forth between the two of us. “These are the eyes I saw watching me from the shadows of the conservation area. All I hope is that I did them justice.”
Someone in the crowd shouts out, “How much for that one?”
Before he can answer, the crowd shuffles forward, pulling his focus from me. A hand slides up my arm, pulling me away from the painting. My eyes stay glued to it as long as possible, before heads block my view and I’m forced to look ahead to where I’m being led.
To my surprise, it’s Raya guiding me from the chaos. Arman and Orian are ahead of us, but I can’t focus on if they’re getting along or not; there are more pressing matters at hand.
Carson definitely saw me—or at least my eyes—in the forest.
What am I going to do? He doesn’t seem dumb, so either he’s already pieced it together, or is going to. What are my options?
I can deny it if he brings it up. I could play stupid, or simply gaslight him. Actually…I think those are my only options. What else is there? Admit it and have him get me arrested for stalking? Not happening.
I can’t believe I slipped up, and enough for him to have memorized my eyes?
What the fuck.
“He’s really good,” Raya remarks, and I realize we are heading toward my house. “But didn’t you guys think those eyes looked a lot like Orie’s?”
Orian lets out a brief chuckle. “They certainly did.”
“But how would he have painted her eyes without meeting her first?” Arman asks.
“Great question.” Orian shoots me a devilish grin over his shoulder. “Any thoughts, dear sister?”
I narrow my eyes at him, pursing my lips for a moment.
“Well, he did meet me when he stopped into my store the other day. He bought a bunch of essential oil rollerballs.” It’s the truth, I’m just conveniently leaving out the times I’ve watched him from the shadows of the trees in the conservation area. A minor omission, really.
“Clearly you made a lasting impression,” Arman says, grinning over his shoulder at me.
Before I can argue, Raya gives my arm a squeeze. “He seems pretty smitten. The whole time he was unveiling the painting, he was only looking at you.”
Smitten?
With me?
No, he’s dangerous…he has to be. No one has been smitten with me before.
“He was looking around at others,” I say, scoffing and attempting to brush it off.
“No, he wasn’t.” Raya lets out a giggle. “What do you think of him, Orie? Is he your type? What even is your type? I don’t think you’ve ever talked to me about dating.”
Oh Gods, this is not something I want to talk about—or admit—in front of my brother. Raya, please read my mind through our best friend connection and drop the dating conversation.
Orian comes to an abrupt stop, spinning on his heel. His tail whips behind him as his eyes widen. “Wait, wait, wait—have you not dated since integrating into the human world?”
We all stop walking, and I keep a straight face as I hold his gaze. There’s no sense in lying here; I think all three of them would see right through me. I’m sure my silence speaks volumes as it is.
Orian grips his belly, laughing from the depths of his soul as he leans back. Arman closes his eyes and thins his lips, but the purplish hue of his cheeks reveals that he’s fighting off a laugh.
I look at Raya, praying to the Gods she isn’t also laughing at me. Her eyes are wide and lips parted, but there’s no sign of laughter or mockery. This is just another one of the reasons she’s a staple in my life.
She never judges me.
Maybe I should tell her about the Carson situation.
“Well, is he your type?” She repeats the question, blinking at me.
The laughter from Orian stops, and Arman opens his eyes. They all watch me, waiting for an answer. The issue is…I don’t know.
He’s attractive, and I know he makes me feel everything to the extreme, but is that because he’s hot? Or is it something else, something…more.
Gods, even the few interactions we’ve had has deepened the feelings. What’s on the inside of him I like too—the parts I’ve seen, at least. It’s making me lower my guard. It might even be making me fall for him.
I shrug awkwardly, pulling my tail into my hand and fiddling with it. “He’s handsome, I guess.”
Raya grabs my wrists, shaking me and bringing my attention to her. “You’re coming over right now—or I’m going to your place—because we need to talk about this.”
I bite my bottom lip, my heart racing. My gaze darts to Orian, smiling smugly, his arms crossed over his chest. As much as I want to go talk to Raya about Carson, about dating, and tell her everything…I think I need to talk to Orian.
Maybe I haven’t been entirely honest about all the things Carson is setting on fire inside of me—both to myself and Orian.
And by the look on my twin brother’s face right now, he’s well aware of that fact.