7. Chapter Seven - Teagan
Chapter Seven - Teagan
None of the colours are right.
The blues aren’t doing what I want by sinking too deeply into true black. The blacks are being a right pain in my ass, all too velvety or satiny or pearly or…just not Sen.
I search for the flaws in the painting I’ve been splashing across my bedroom wall for hours, absently sucking on my bottom lip as thoughts of Sen raise the hair on the back of my neck.
My gaze drags over what I’ve created—a midnight ocean cut by a silver blade of moonlight bleeding across the waves—and it’s just…
“Kinda shitty,” I admit, swaying my arms back and forth, trailing dripping paint from my brush over the plastic I laid. Not that the wood flooring isn’t already stained.
I slap my brush in my open palm and run my fingers through the tacky bristles, covering my skin in all of Sen’s decadent darkness. It’s frustrating not being able to grab what’s in my mind and toss it out, have it explode like a balloon filled with colour that explains this need to hunt Sen down.
‘Will I see you around, slick?’
His reply was basically a ‘no’, and I had to turn away, or I’d burst out laughing at his blatant lie. Like his stupid excuses when I caught him trailing me weren’t proof enough.
A grin tugs at my lips, because…why?
It’s fucking weird.
It’s fucking exciting.
I’ve always liked spinning in circles until I get dizzy, and Sen’s the goddamn embodiment of that.
I want him to hunt me down again. I want to watch him have to physically pull himself away from our almost kiss again.
Maybe it’s the little brother in me, but Sen makes me wanna poke and prod, annoy him until he gives up his secrets and explain why he looked so miserable when he didn’t take my mouth when I was so willing to give.
Sen, me—whatever the fuck this pull is—it’s a puzzle that needs figuring out, and I’m almost buzzing out of my skin at the prospect of solving it. Goosebumps rise on my tingling flesh, imagining Sen and me rolling around in paint, our entwined bodies creating something wild.
Dropping my brush with a wet thud, I run my hand up my t-shirt and around to my bare neck, smearing myself with sparkling midnight-blues and pearly blacks until I glisten like a night sky sprayed with stars.
Tingling goosebumps spill down my neck, travel the length of my body—lower. My dick twitches, tries to harden…
I flinch when nothing happens, and all those good feelings rush out of me to be replaced by limp shame.
The hold on my neck tightens, my fingers digging into the hard bone at the base of my skull, and with shuddering inhales, I push against the sudden wave of crippling disappointment.
My eyes squeeze shut, and with clenched teeth, I just about manage to drag myself from memories I want to stay submerged.
I think I’m nearly there, and let my guard drop just as muffled high-pitched laughter screams from the TV downstairs my parents are watching, and my mind betrays me—twisting those sounds into hateful jeering by so-called friends as I’m shoved into a painted pink corner that I can’t escape.
Before I’m even out of the memory, I’m tripping over myself to get towards my ensuite. I slap the light switch on. My bare feet pad against the cold white tiles as I rush towards the sink. Cold water swooshes out of the tap, and I’m thrusting my overheated face under the spray.
Before I left uni and came back to live with my parents, I loved my freedoms. One being lots of sex. I used to tingle all over when I was rubbed hard or fingered soft, exploring while being explored. I’d tangle myself up with guys, girls, theys, and every other gender expression. It was fun.
Was.
But now?
Now I’m trembling as I hold onto the cool rim as water rushes over my blotchy cheeks, swallowing mouthfuls to wet my dry throat, until the sound of running water hitting porcelain drowns out all my spiralling thoughts.
Now I can’t even look at the fucking colour pink without freaking out. Now I can’t fantasise about a hot guy without feeling…or rather, without feeling.
I stay there for a moment longer in the numb quiet, pushing everything away until I can find my way back to the surface. Once I’m there, I rise slowly and run my fingers through my curls, staring at my dripping reflection for a beat before turning my back on it and aiming for the shower.
A sudden burst of energy demands my attention, and if I don’t start moving, I’m gonna start screaming.
I’m quick to strip and step under the warm spray, half-heartedly scrubbing away most of the paint.
Once I shut the water off, I pad naked into my room, putting on clean briefs, struggling my damp limbs into a pair of stone-washed jeans before throwing on a black hoodie.
I can’t stay in my room any longer, so I message Luuk, who works with Kai at the tattoo studio King’s, to see if he’s around to hang out.
While I wait, I check a message from my brother Thomas, who sent a picture of snow-capped hills, then rub moisturiser all over my exposed skin because I forgot to do it before getting dressed.
A message beeps on my phone, but before I can look at it, I stare at my unfinished painting. A pang of longing hits me square in the chest. Maybe it’s for the best that Sen is pretending he doesn’t want me; no matter what the reason is, he’ll never know about my…problem.
Yet…I don’t want that shit. For some reason, my confusing need for Sen outweighs everything else, and ain’t that just fucking bonkers.
I snap a picture of my rubbish painting and send it to Thomas, then reply to Luuk’s excited message to have me over.
I told Summer I’d help get her paints back, and while I might be damaged, I still plan to uphold my promises.
***
The taxi driver drops me off outside King’s, where Kai apparently still works, and I tap my phone to pay. For once, not using Kai’s card but mine, I can’t be pissed off at him and still spend his money.
I head across the soggy green field, passing a muddy football net on the way towards a hulking block of grey flats. Once there, I press the buzzer, and after a beat, a loud voice crackles out, “Teagan?”
“Yo, Luuk.”
“Hey, little man! C’mon up!”
There is a metallic click, and I pull open the hefty metal door to go into a concrete landing with shitty graffiti on the wall and a flickering light.
I think about adding some of my own shitty graffiti, but the elevator doors slide open as someone walks out, so I take it as my cue to head up to Luuk’s.
After a short, choppy ride up, I’m knocking on Luuk’s red door.
Luuk flings it open wide with a smile so genuine and blinding I nearly look away. “Little man! Long time no see. Come in, come in.”
I follow Luuk’s massive frame, toeing off my shoes into the cramped landing with a doormat that says ‘welcome to the lovenest’ and Polaroids taped to the walls of Luuk and his boyfriend Ari.
A few with Kai, mostly when he’s tattooing.
Some with Summer in her overalls, holding a cup of tea and grinning.
Others show Apollo headbanging at a concert.
Golden talking animatedly to Kai. More with all of them hanging out at King’s, pubs, or concerts.
A little twinge of jealousy nudges at me as I move past them and into the living room. I used to have friends like that. Or maybe I never did.
“No Ari?” I ask.
Lamps are dotted around side tables, filling the room with honey light and turning Luuk’s sandy-blond topknot into amber, his subtle dusting of freckles melting into gold flecks over his nose.
“Nah. Apollo’s been a little down, so Ari took him to see a punk band performing in someone’s shady basement,” Luuk says, voice loud but somehow fitting the warmth of his space, like the sound of a crackling fire on high.
“Hungry, little man?” he asks, already heading into the small kitchen attached to the living room.
“Always,” I reply, dropping into the corduroy armchair with a bounce and flicking through the sheet music neatly piled on a side table. “Ari working on something new?”
Luuk hands me a bowl of pretzels, grinning large and proud. “Ari’s always working on something new,” he tells me, taking his own bowl to the opposite two-seat sofa. “I’m surprised you hit me up.”
I raise a questioning eyebrow while shoving a fistful of pretzels into my mouth.
“I thought you’d be busy with uni.”
I take my time crushing the salty snacks between my teeth, unsure how to answer, and not wanting to answer at the same time.
Luuk is an easy-going guy, and I don’t wanna lie.
You’d think his art style would be big and brash and honest like him, but it’s some of the most beautifully intricate pieces I’ve ever seen.
His tattoos are Sistine Chapel level good, and Ari is covered from head to toe in Luuk’s work like a love letter.
“Summer and Kai fought,” I mumble, deciding I don’t wanna touch the uni shit, not caring I’m doing a bad job at changing the subject.
“I know,” Luuk’s big shoulders drop, his blue eyes dipping. “I think Apollo was involved, too.”
“Do you know why?”
“I asked, but Apollo said it's nothing,” he replies, nibbling the salt off a pretzel. “He’s been super quiet these days, it’s weird.”
I quirk an eyebrow up. Apollo’s never quiet.
“I know, right?” Luuk says as if I’d spoken aloud. “I feel a bit left out of the loop, to be honest, little man. Something’s definitely happening. But I guess I’ll find out soon enough.”
I should feel like a hypocrite that I’m pissed off when people keep secrets. I never cared before. But now it makes me want to shield myself, like they’ve been hiding their real selves and at any moment they’ll attack.
“Summer left her paints in the basement and wants them back, but she feels awkward asking Kai or Apollo,” I say around my mouthful.
Luuk perks up. “Little man, she shudda said! I bet she felt weird asking me, but I ain’t got any issues with her.”
Luuk jumps up and grabs a pair of keys with a skull hanging from the keyring from the table, handing them over. “Get these back to me by tomorrow, yeah? I get things are weird right now, but Summer is still my mate, and I don’t want her thinking I don’t care.”
“Thanks, Luuk. I…” I swallow around the dry pretzels to hide the hitch in my voice. “You’re a good friend.”
Luuk’s lopsided grin grows.
‘I’m glad I at least have one other person in my life who isn’t keeping something from me,’ I think, taking my phone out and texting Summer to meet me later tonight.