14. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

T he scent of acrylic paint was always a soothing one.

Pixie stood in front of the canvas, putting the finishing touches on Welcome the Night , a painting that had been inspired by her midnight rendezvous with Eva. The taste of her, the feel of their skin brushing against each other's, the quiet texture of the velvet night around them—all those sensations and feelings bled out of her fingertips. Usually, paintings took her weeks or months or a few all-nighters, and recently, she'd been pulling more and more of the latter.

The canvas breathed to life, the colors leaping to the fore, and a sense of exhilaration swilled through her veins whenever she created. Eva left the munch two days ago, and she promised to return today, since she'd finished packing up the rest of her belongings. Pixie couldn't imagine being able to cram all her shit into a single car now. She'd had to do it her whole childhood, so the second she got old enough, she'd started collecting so much it didn't fit in the space of her condo. She'd needed to rent a storage center outside of the city for her comics and blankets and weird sculptures.

Pixie swept a few more brushstrokes of navy along one of the curvy shadows, trying to recapture the visceral sensation of the darkness that night, how it had coated her skin, sparked light into her very soul. Moments like this, when she chased a creative high, she could forget the problems waiting for her when she returned to reality.

Her phone buzzed on the table. She glanced over, and her stomach flipped at the familiar name on the screen. After one more stroke, she wiped her hand on her pants and answered the call, paintbrush in tow.

"Hey, Francis." Pixie walked over to the sink. She turned the water on and washed the brush and her paint-stained hands, cradling her phone between her shoulder and cheek. Now that she wasn't in active creation mode, her back ached from hunching over a canvas for close to two days straight. Her stomach rumbled with a loud reminder she had barely eaten as well.

"I figured I'd wait to call until there was news," Francis said, his voice eager over the phone. Pixie's stomach twisted. The concept of leaving tangled her up. Some days, she wanted to stay more than anything, and others, she believed if she remained here any longer, she'd forget how to breathe. After moving for so long, the idea of finding a true home was one she secretly cherished but didn't think she would ever get.

When things got hard, the urge to bolt burned in her blood.

"What's going on?" Pixie shut off the water, placed the paintbrush down, and leaned against the sink.

"They want you to come and interview for the residency." It was the answer she'd anticipated, and she should feel thrilled. Except the first thing that came to mind was Eva and the creativity she'd inspired that still stained her fingers.

However, Eva wasn't anything more than a fling—nothing to hang her hopes on—no matter how many sparks flared between them.

"When?" she asked, her mouth dry. This wasn't just taking a different job across town. No, this would be a full-out move away from the people she loved. It seemed ridiculous to even entertain the idea, given she knew what starting over was like. But she also knew what it was like to stand by someone as you got let down time and time again.

And she'd choose the former after a lifetime of the latter.

"Three weeks. This is such a rare chance, Pixie. They were impressed enough by your art to move forward, so that's something to be incredibly proud of."

Pixie swallowed hard. Her chest warmed at the praise because Francis meant it. He tended to be on the critical side, and he wouldn't step to bat for just anyone. He viewed her as talented, even though most of the time, she still felt like a kid clutching a paintbrush, trying to escape the world.

"I'll be there." An interview couldn't hurt. Checking out the area, seeing what the opportunity was like. She could always back out if needed.

"I'm relieved. For a moment, it sounded like you weren't sure," he said.

"Come on, Francis. Who wouldn't be excited about a potential resident artist position?" she joked, even though her heart was too at war for excitement.

"I'll update you with details." With that, he ended the call.

Pixie gripped her phone and stared at the ceiling. The news should've made her elated. Opportunities like those were rare. Once-in-a-lifetime sorts of deals. Yet even beyond her friend group here, Pixie was scared to leave her mom behind. That if she wasn't close to pick up the pieces, no one else would. That responsibility had followed her since she was a kid, and she wasn't sure how to live without it.

"A resident artist position?" Micah asked from the doorway.

Pixie's stomach dropped. Fuck. "My art dealer threw my name in the ring, yeah."

Micah's expression was unreadable, his hazel eyes taking on an icy shade. "Where's it at, Pixie?"

Guilt rolled through her. "Portland. But before you get all angry with me for not saying anything, I didn't think it was necessary. Francis had put it out there as a potential, not even something I believed would turn into a reality."

Micah crossed his arms. "Right, so you wouldn't tell your best friend this was even on your radar? Look, I know I don't bug you to open up, but hell, I didn't realize you thought so little of our friendship." He pushed up from the doorframe and strode down the corridor.

Panic gripped her, and she hurried after him. Fuck, she was a shit friend. Her therapist had told her for years she needed to open up to others, to let her friends into her life, but she kept everyone at arm's length, willing to be there for them but not vice versa. She hadn't even left San Francisco, and she already torpedoed her relationships.

Pixie burst into the living room, where Micah slouched on his side of the couch. The slightest gasp of relief filtered through her. She'd half believed she'd find him gone.

Except since he was still here, she'd need to speak about more than what kinky shit they were getting up to or the highlight reel of their days. Of all the myriad problems she kept on lockdown, this was one thing she should bring up. Especially to her best friend and roommate .

"I'm sorry." She plopped down next to Micah, grabbed one of the throw pillows, and clutched it tight to her chest. "You're right."

Micah cocked an eyebrow, a move that reminded her a lot of Eva. Still, he didn't say anything, sprawled into his corner of the couch like he tried to meld with it.

"This directly involves you, and I should've been upfront the moment Francis brought up the opportunity," Pixie said, even though her heart thumped hard. This might be the issue that pushed him away.

If not this, then the fact she was sleeping with his sister.

"Nuh-uh, none of this ‘telling you because it's practical' bullshit." He jabbed a finger at her, his hazel eyes flashing. "Tell me because I'm your friend. Because you want me to share in your dreams and successes. If not, don't even fucking bother."

Pixie bit her lip hard enough she tasted blood. He wasn't wrong, and Micah had an uncanny way of drilling in for the truth.

She ducked her head. "I don't know if it's my dream, okay? The reason I didn't bring it up is that I'm so conflicted right now that I couldn't sort it out for myself, let alone with someone else."

Silence spread between them, as thick as peanut butter and just as lingering.

"What's been going on?" he asked softly. "I know I've been in my own world recently, sucked into a new relationship and all. I feel like we had reconnected hard when I first showed up, but we're already drifting."

Pixie ran her fingers through her hair. Peeling back the trauma with her mother overwhelmed her too much, and confessing she believed everyone was moving on without her would end with a lot of denials. "I've been lost lately." It was the unvarnished truth, even if she didn't dive into the myriad reasons why. "Just looking for the purpose everyone else around me has found. So when Francis swept in with the opportunity, it seemed stupid to deny it outright."

Micah huffed. "I hate that."

"What?" Her palms had left sweaty imprints on the pillow, but she refused to let it go.

"I can't just hand you over something like purpose. No easy fix there to keep you in the area."

Pixie snorted. "If it were that easy, I would've asked you a while ago." Her chest twisted. This was the friend connection she'd miss if she left. She was tempted to call back Francis and tell him no, but she also needed to dig into herself to uncover the source of this gnawing feeling threatening to devour her alive. The instability that had her unable to derive joy from the things she once loved.

"However," Micah said, fixing her with a firm stare. "I will say the area wouldn't be the same without you. Not only would Whipped be missing one of its sluttiest subs, but I'd have to try making more friends, and let's be real. You're one of the few people who's put up with me this long." His levity was classic Micah, and Pixie wanted to hold that close to her chest. Still, she didn't miss the intensity in his gaze or the slight sharpness to his tone.

Pixie shook her head. "You read me like the back of a book."

"Hand," Micah corrected.

Pixie lifted her hand. "What's wrong with it?"

"Back of a hand."

Pixie flipped her hand to the back. "Looks fine to me."

Micah tossed one of the throw pillows at her. "Never mind. Just promise me this. Don't leave me out in the cold. I might not be able to solve your problems, but you're my best friend, so treat me like one."

"Ouch, straight for the jugular," she said, grabbing one of the pillows and flinging it at Micah. A laugh exploded from her chest as it smacked him right in the face.

"You little shit." Another pillow came flying right at her.

She dodged, but it clipped her on the shoulder. Pixie grabbed it from the floor and flung it right back. Micah let out a bark of laughter as he scrambled for two, hurling them in her direction. How many fucking pillows did she have on her couch?

Her chest eased as she tossed another his way, whooping with laughter.

Micah launched another straight into her face, which cut off the laugh, but a wave of giddiness swept through her.

She plucked a blanket from the couch and lifted it as a shield. "Let's see you try anything now, jackass."

The door creaked, and they both froze in place, Micah clutching the pillow while she held the blanket.

Eva entered, looking muted, like she'd been drawn in monochrome. Her hair was pulled back in a perfect bun, and her button-down and skirt were smooth, but her normally expressive eyes were haunted. Guaranteed, packing up her old life had taken the energy out of her. Still, Pixie's heart stopped and restarted as if someone had taken paddles and jolted it back to life.

A second later, a pillow went flying toward Eva's face.

It hit with a thwack and fell to the ground, and Eva stared at both of them, nonplussed.

Quiet settled over them before a grin cracked onto Eva's features. "Micah, you little shit."

An audible exhale left Pixie as Eva reached down, plucked the pillow from the floor, and launched it at him .

Micah let out a whoop, and he began hurling pillows anew. Pixie ditched the blanket and scrabbled for the nearest one to her, just to toss another his way. Laughter shook her shoulders as lightness poured over her like sunshine, the first that had pierced through in a long, long while.

Eva crossed the space between them and picked up pillow after pillow, holding her own against Micah while lobbing a few blows in Pixie's direction. For at least five minutes, the room filled with shrieks, thumps, and the occasional curse. Pixie snagged any pillow in sight at this point and blindly tossed it forward.

Heavy breaths resounded through the room as they slowed down. Pixie hurled herself onto the couch with abandon, and Eva claimed the loveseat. Micah settled into his spot, a wild, incandescent spark in his eye that was purely her best friend. Even Eva seemed transformed from when she'd walked through the door, her features softer and an enigmatic smile lingering on her lips. One Pixie found far too attractive.

Pixie locked eyes with Eva. "Welcome back."