Chapter 15 The Canvas And The Brush
“She’s hoping for a charity-case promo,” Kaitlyn said under her breath, loud enough for everyone to hear. Laughter rippled through the classroom like a cruel wave.
“Enough!” The professor’s voice cracked like thunder, silencing them. He exhaled deeply, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Take your seat.”
As soon as I sat, a chill ran through me, something was off. I shifted slightly, and then felt it. Wet. My skirt was soaked. I jumped up in shock, touching the back of my skirt and it was drenched.
I turned sharply to the seat behind me. Jamie sat there, a sly grin spreading across his face, mischief gleaming in his eyes. Beside him, Evander leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, a cruel smirk curving his lips. No doubt he was the one who told Jamie to do it.
“Do you have a problem, Lambert?” Professor Ashcroft’s cold voice snapped from the front.
Soft laughter murmured across the class again, bubbling like venom. My cheeks burned. I didn’t say a word, just grabbed my bag and stormed out before anyone could see the tears welling in my eyes.
The corridor was quiet, the kind of silence that made the echoes of my boots sound lonely. My heart still pounded. I could feel their laughter chasing me even now.
“Lexie.”
I turned. Adrian was standing a few steps away, his face calm, concerned, shadowing his gentle blue eyes.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly.
I wanted to scream no, to tell him I couldn’t stand Gravenmoor Academy anymore… that I was done with the cruelty, the pretentious smiles, the way people hid their ugliness behind money and beauty.
But all that came out was a whisper. “Yeah, I’m good.”
He stepped closer, closing the distance between us until I could almost feel his breath. That was when I noticed Oliver, standing halfway up the stairs, watching. His eyes lingered for a moment before he turned away.
Was he coming to me?
But Adrian had gotten there first.
“I know you’re not fine,” Adrian said. “I saw you leave the class.”
Right. He wasn’t in class, earlier. He must’ve been sketching somewhere again.
“Right,” I said quietly. “I just needed a place to clear my head.”
He extended his hand, his fingers warm and inviting. “Come with me then.”
I hesitated, glancing at his calm face, graceful, so full of trust it almost hurt to look at him. My heart stuttered. I placed my hand in his. “Okay.”
The air outside was colder than I expected. We walked through the woods, the sound of dried leaves crunching under our boots. The afternoon light was dim, tinted with gold and shadow.
“What are we doing here?” I asked as we walked deeper into the trees.
“I want to show you something,” he said.
“Something special?” I teased, glancing sideways at him.
He smiled faintly. “Maybe.”
We kept walking until we reached it again… the greenhouse.
I froze. My breath caught in my throat.
“Here?” I asked, swallowing hard.
He nodded. “I’d say it’s a special place… for someone special like you.”
That line made my stomach flutter. But as we drew closer, my pulse quickened for another reason entirely. I knew this place.
Exactly this greenhouse, the one I stumbled upon the last time I came into the woods… with Julian. My stomach sank like a stone. My eyes widened. My body went still.
Adrian smiled at me, oblivious. “You don’t like it?” he asked gently.
You don’t get it, Adrian.
“This house…” I whispered, barely breathing, “…it’s the same one in your painting.”
His smile faltered. “Yeah. You don’t forget things easily, do you?” he said, his voice dropping slightly. “I don’t tell anyone about this place. Sorry I lied to you.”
“This place…” I muttered, my throat tight.
“What?” He tilted his head, curious. “Have you seen this place before?”
I scoffed faintly, though my nerves were screaming. My eyes darted to his face, no trace of deceit, only genuine curiosity.
Has he forgotten? He painted this place from imagination, or so he claimed. Was he pretending?
“What’s this place, really?” I asked, forcing my voice to steady.
“My secret place,” he replied. “Where I keep most of my art.”
He took my hand again, his grip firm but gentle. “Come with me. Let me show you inside.”
The door creaked open. The air smelled of paint and dust, a strange mix of roses and decay.
Inside, canvases leaned against the walls, dozens of them. Palettes, brushes, jars of turpentine scattered across a long table. Light spilled through cracked glass, catching motes of dust that shimmered like ashes.
“This is where you hide your art,” I said quietly, touching a canvas with my fingertips.
I lifted one, a painting of a girl standing on a balcony, ravens blotting out her face. “This is… beautiful.”
He smiled faintly, watching me.
I moved to another painting, students hiking across a misty hill and a raven perched. Then to a larger one near the corner. But before I could look closely, Adrian rushed forward and gently caught my wrist.
“I don’t think you should see that one,” he said, voice low.
I turned my head toward the painting anyway, my breath tightening. I’d already seen it before, the same painting Julian and I had found. The one of the Ivy Girl.
“Oh…” I breathed out, stepping back slightly.
“Why did you bring me here,” I asked softly, “if this is supposed to be your secret place?”
He hesitated, his eyes flickering. “I… just…” He trailed off, standing behind me now.
I turned to face him. His blue eyes gleamed in the muted light, impossibly deep. “You just what?” I asked, my voice trembling faintly.
The space between us was thin as breath.
“I just felt like I could trust you,” he said finally.
I gave a short, nervous laugh. “Trust me? When we’re not even that close?”
He smiled faintly, lifting his hand to tilt my chin upward. “We could be… because I want you.”
I swallowed hard, unable to look away. Then something glimmered at his side, a flash of gold.
My eyes flicked down to his pocket. Instinctively, I reached and pulled it out.
A brush. Dark wooden handle engraved with gold designs, the exact same brush from my dream.
“Wow,” I whispered. “This brush is beautiful.”
His eyes widened slightly. He stepped forward quickly, taking it from my hand. “That’s…” He paused, his voice darkening. “That’s just a brush.”
I blinked. “Just a brush? Isn’t it?” My voice was shaking now.
“No,” he said, then caught himself. “I mean, yes. It’s just… my special brush. No one’s supposed to touch it.”
He slipped it back into his pocket and turned away.
Adrian is hiding something. It’s obvious. Suspicious.
And I’m going to find out what it is.