Because of me.

Justin lounged against the roller, crossing his arms with a chuckle. “Yeah, he was pissed that we dated. But that’s in the past. And we don’t technically work together. I check in on him now and again. We bumped into each other a year ago and kinda stayed in touch.”

“That’s nice.”

“Strange really, seeing as you’re right. We didn’t talk much at school. He’s talented, though. And that’s what I respect. Even if he is a prick most of the time.”

My heart squeezed, remembering a younger Gil.

He’d never been a prick to me.

Until he was.

“You’ve seen his YouTube channel?” Justin asked, his eyes lingering on me.

I exhaled in a rush. “Yes. I researched him after I saw the ad. I didn’t know it was him though, thanks to the hood.”

“Bet you wouldn’t have come for the interview if you’d known.” His gaze travelled to the office where Gil had disappeared into.

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m a sucker for pain.”

And I’ve been searching for him ever since he vanished.

Justin laughed gently. “You certainly riled him up tonight.”

“Seems just my presence has that power these days.” Awkwardness fell, signalling an end to our weird conversation. “Anyway...I better be—”

“Going. Sure. Sorry.” He opened the exit for me. “Guess I’ll see ya ’round, O.”

“I guess.” I smiled again and stepped into the chilly darkness.

“Wait!” The loud bark wrenched my head around as Gil jogged from his office. His phone remained clutched in his fist, but the call had ended.

“What’s up?” Justin asked.

Gil ignored him, not stopping until he was within touching distance to me. Stress lines decorated his face. A heaviness that wasn’t there before lurked in the depths of his eyes, and a barely restrained violence etched his jaw.

He looked defeated.

He looked dangerous.

Instinct ordered me to back away, but I held my ground.

He breathed hard, the bruise on his jaw and cut lip demanding care as he held up his hand, a silent request for me to stay. “Be here. Tomorrow. Nine a.m. sharp.”

I blinked. “What?”

“You heard me. I’ve changed my mind. I’ll do the commission, but I’m running out of time. Be here first thing. I don’t know when we’ll be done. Depends if I like my concept or not and how long it takes to paint you.”

“So...you’re giving me the job?”

“You’ve got work for the next couple of days.” He gritted his teeth as if he already struggled with the idea. “We’ll discuss any repeats after.”

“Not exactly reliable employment.”

“Take it or leave it.” He crossed his arms gingerly, pain flashed across his features.

My stomach rumbled embarrassingly, reminding me that no money equalled no food, and my heartache was worthless.

For a second, I deliberated disclosing the parts of me that might make me a less than ideal canvas. But this job wasn’t given freely; I would keep my secrets until tomorrow.

Holding out my hand for him to shake, I said softly, “I’ll take it.”

For the longest second, Gil just stared at my hand. He didn’t uncross his arms, making nerves thread their way down my spine. He looked trapped between fear and want.

Justin cleared his throat; Gil rushed to capture my offered palm.

The moment his touch met mine, it was as if seven years had vanished and we were hidden behind the school gym, tucked together in the dusk, our bodies aching, our limbs shaking, our hearts gasping to be brave.

I bit my lip as Gil stiffened, squeezing my fingers until they throbbed. He clutched me as if he wanted to brand me. As if he tasted the past and buckled beneath the memories.

Memories of what we’d once shared.

The openness.

The hope.

The beginning of something so much bigger than us.

Us.

There had once been an incredible us.

A blistering connection between a privileged girl and a poor boy who weren’t from the same existence.

That same power—the force of forever and belonging—burned with a ferocity that turned my insides to ash and heart to flame.

Full-blown star-crossed temptation.

His fingers switched from squeezing to quaking.

I froze as desire bled from my palm and wrapped tendrils around his wrist, binding him to me, wishing I could keep him this time.

His skin was cold.

Icy as a ghost.

Yet he hadn’t always been that way.

There’d been a time when his skin had been as warm as the sunshine in the park where we’d sneak after school. Where his touch sent wings of joy through me instead of clouds of dread.

The sensation of unfinished business and complicated truths made pain manifest.

I couldn’t bear it.

I tore my hand from his, shoving it deep into my jacket pocket. He must’ve felt the same agonising bolt as he ripped his fingers away, wiped them on his jeans, and raked them through his unruly hair.

Justin’s eyes bored into me, then into Gil; his forehead furrowed as if he could taste whatever we’d conjured.

Awkwardness settled.

A strange kind of embarrassment and fear.

“Tomorrow.” Gil nodded curtly, gave Justin a sour look, then turned and stalked back into the shadows.

The shadows that had claimed him for their own.

OceanofPDF.com

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter Four

______________________________

Olin

-The Present-

“YOU’RE LATE.”

I closed the door to Gil’s warehouse, searching for where his voice had come from. Around the trestle tables and paint splatters, over the props and cupboards.

The moment I found him, my sleepless night and tangled heart punched me in the chest. My hands turned cold, my breath became shallow, my entire body switched to high alert.

He stood beside a table full of equipment and paint, all prepared for a long day creating art. His body was stiff and unyielding, like a king accepting homage or a prisoner braced for punishment.

“I’m not late. It’s precisely nine a.m.”

He kept his eyes unreadable as I moved toward him, my messenger bag with my packed cucumber sandwich and apple juice swinging against my black leggings.

I’d worn dance-clothes again. Lightweight and easy to remove with a sports bra underneath—not that I’d be allowed to keep the bra.

I’d seen how body painters worked. Skin was the canvas, not fabric.

He backed away as I went to him, his eyes skating over me. “That’s why you’re late. I wanted to start work at nine.”

I didn’t let his coldness hurt me. The rush of what’d happened between us last night gave me courage. I’d learned how to cope after he’d abandoned me when we were younger. It’d been a lesson I didn’t want to learn—the hardest lesson—but I’d mastered it regardless. The strength it took to survive his indifferent, uncaring face was built brick by brick.

That skill turned steely in its determination not to let him push me away a second time.

I arched my chin. “Well, you should’ve asked me to arrive earlier so we had time to prep.”

He bristled as I shrugged off my bag and placed it on his table of tricks before slipping off my jacket. The warehouse wasn’t exactly chilly, but it wasn’t warm either. The advert had been honest about not being affected by the cold being a requirement.

He swallowed hard, jerking his gaze from my chest. “I suggest you don’t answer back to your boss, especially seeing as you’ve been employed for less than two minutes.”

“Yes, about that.” I ran my fingers over the tops of rainbow paint bottles, pleased that he seemed affected by me. “Do you need me to sign a contract?”

“No.” He turned to an air gun, fiddling with dials and checking narrow hoses. His jeans looked like he’d already been painting with splotches and splashes of colour. His grey T-shirt had the same graffiti appearance—obviously his uniform when working.