Chapter Four - Teagan
Tyres wheeze as we roll to a stop and park outside my parents’ unremarkable home. In an unremarkable suburb, each house with the same unremarkable square of green out front.
My thoughts keep returning to Sen. He was a dark, alluring figure against the night, and the palette of his colours is one I’m desperate to play with. What could I create with his sapphire-at-midnight hair? Or the nocturnal brilliance in his eyes? His dusky tan skin?
My fingers itch, my mouth wet and hot at the idea of exploring every inch of him.
“Ready to talk about the fight you had with Kai?” Summer asks.
I shrug, my bomber jacket rustling against her fluffy purple coat in the small space of her car.
Summer’s chin bobs. “I get it, babe.” She hesitates, the obsidian rings on her fingers glistening like wet rock. “Kai and I…had a bit of a falling out, too.”
I glance at her, curious to hear more.
Summer lets loose a heavy sigh and drops her head on the backrest, blonde hair spilling around her face like strands of gold in the overhead light.
I wait for her to speak; I’ve never minded silence, it means I get to watch Summer bring her hand up to stare at her rings, and the way they catch the light but don’t seem to reflect it, making the car feel darker. Not in a bad way, but comforting like when I’m huddled under a warm blanket.
After a beat, Summer says, more to herself, “I don’t think Kai will ever forgive me.”
I blink once, waiting for more morsels of information.
Summer rolls her face to meet mine, smiling sadly and eyebrows drawn down. “I regret upsetting him, Teagan. But…urgh! If he’d just told me about his…secret, we wouldn’t be in this bloody mess.”
“He lied to you, too?”
Her hazel gaze sticks to me, searching for something, and from the corner of my eye, her ringed fingers twitch, like coaxing something from thin air before dropping her palms into her lap.
Summer leans in closer, eyes glinting with sympathy and something else. An expression I don’t understand, like she’s just learned something interesting.
I hope she tells me; I love interesting things.
“Yeah, babe,” she replies slowly. “In fact, everyone but Luuk knew.” Another friend who works at the tattoo studio, another person Kai has lied to. It’s all so unlike my brother.
I suck in the tiniest breath.
“Has Kai been keeping things from you, as well?” Summer frowns, tilting her head to the side, golden strands falling into her eyes. “But Kai never lies to you.”
I scoff, crossing my arms. “Vidar’s messing with his head.”
“Vidar? He’s the one who told Kai to lie to me, too,” Summer replies. “And…er, it’s a bit awkward but…”
I wait for her to finish.
“I really don’t wanna involve you, Teagan, but I left all my paints in Apollo’s basement at the tattoo studio, and they changed the locks.”
“Your paints?” My thumb rubs over the white flecking on my knuckles.
“Yeah, and…” she bites her lip. “Actually, don’t worry about it.”
“I can get you inside?” I offer. “I’d hate to be without my stuff.”
For a long time, she stays silent, two deep lines forming between her brows.
I can tell she’s about to say ‘no,’ but while Summer is more Kai’s friend than mine, I’ve lost too many people I thought of as friends in this last abysmal year to not hold close to the small group I still have.
So if I can help get something important back, I will.
“Really, Summer, it’s no big deal, and I’ll keep it between us.”
Summer shuts her eyes for a moment before opening them, her gaze wet, and pulls me into a hug. I go willingly, hugging her back loosely.
“I’m sorry, Teagan. Thank you.”
I’ve always liked hugs and the feel of being close to someone, getting to rest my head on their shoulder and breathing them in. Learning new things about someone, like Summer smells a little cold in the same way copper does.
She lets me go, her lips wobbling, like a smile that got dropped in a puddle.
“I’ll text you when I have the keys, deal?” I tell her.
She nods once, the two lines between her brows stamped there with no plans of leaving.
I give her a reassuring pat on the arm before slipping out and heading towards my parents’ house. Thankfully, it’s empty; Mum and Dad are both out at some event or gala, and I head upstairs into my bedroom, dropping my bag and broken board by the door.
Like my studio, my room is a constellation of art against the walls and ceiling, not an inch left untouched by my brushes or spray cans or fingers.
I wanna rip off all my clothes and collapse into my unmade bed; instead, I find myself putting my black face mask on, opening the windows, and grabbing some white paint for a base.
“What do you think, Erica?” I muse, even if she isn’t with me, and stare up at a detailed painting of a roller coaster filled with skeletons in bobble hats.
I pour white paint into a tray, watching it fold over itself in fat, slick sheets. Then I grab a roller brush, and as I paint over my old art, creating a new canvas for all these new feelings, I drift into my place of creativity.
Sen. His name is Sen.
“I’m thinking…” I trail off. Images of dark, reflective eyes and the sound of his dangerous and seductive voice play in my mind, so close I can feel his warm breath coasting down my neck as he whispers into my ear. “An ocean…I’m thinking an ocean.”