Chapter 13

THIRTEEN

Dee

Dee nervously ran her hand through her spiky dark hair in anticipation for Clarissa's visit. She didn't usually let people into her studio and she still wasn't sure why she agreed to this. Maybe it just meant she was desperate for this painter's block to be over.

The doorbell rang and she hurried to the door, beaten there by an excited Millie.

"Oh, it's not for you," she told the dog, pushing her out of the way. She twisted the door handle and opened the door, even more nervous now. It was already dark outside, courtesy of winter, and the first hint of the rising moon was visible low in the sky.

"Hi." Clarissa gave her a smile, still only wearing a fluffy jumper and a scarf instead of clothes that reflected it was winter. She did have lovely blushes on her cheeks that matched the colour of her hair and there was a flash of green nail polish when she waved.

Dee found the whole thing kind of charming.

"Hey." Dee tried to keep Millie from pushing through her legs but the spaniel was insistent. "Sorry, you're going to have to say hello to the dog or she's going to topple me over."

"Hi, Millie." Clarissa crouched down and raked her hands through the spaniel's fur, easily matching her enthusiasm. "Hello, you beautiful girl."

Satisfied that she had her attention, Millie ran back inside.

"No Bork?" Dee asked as she stepped aside, her gaze flitting up to the sky again. It didn't escape her notice that it was a crescent night and that lots of people would be gathering around Crescent Lake to find their fated mates tonight. Not that it was relevant to her, she had no intention of participating herself so she didn't know why she was even thinking about it.

"No, I left him at home." Clarissa raised a recyclable bag. "But I brought alcohol."

Dee let out a chuckle. She hadn't really known what to expect from them hanging out but this wasn't it. That being said, she wasn't upset by the development.

"This way to my studio," she said, letting the other woman into the house. She expected Clarissa to follow right away but she was lingering, taking her time to look around.

"You know this is the first time I've been to your house? Well, your parents' house. Isn't that weird?" she remarked, her fingers brushing over the walnut dresser. "This place is fancy."

Dee pursed her lips. "I've never been to your house and you live above the craft store."

"Fair. Where's your studio?"

"Take a guess. If you can't smell the turpentine and paint, you can't call yourself a painter," Dee challenged. She didn't know why she couldn't just give a straight answer. For some reason, when Clarissa was involved, Dee always had to make things more convoluted.

With a little smirk, Clarissa pointed at the right door. "That one?"

"You didn't sniff any of the doors."

"Bear sense, don't need to."

Dee heard some stumbling upstairs and suddenly imagined her mother coming down and making small talk in the hall. That was the last thing she wanted so she stopped stalling and opened her studio. Nerves flitted through her at the thought of someone seeing all her miserable unfinished paintings but it was too late to worry about that now.

Without saying anything, Clarissa looked around the room. Her gaze lingered on the shelf with paint tubes, the sink where some of her brushes were drying, the eternal cup of paint thinner that was caked in old paint.

"And?" Dee asked when she couldn't take it anymore.

"It's nice," Clarissa commented with a grin. "I'm teasing. It's actually really nice. Lots of windows for natural light, plenty of thinking space."

As expected, she had a keen eye.

Dee leaned against her workbench. "My studio in my penthouse is even bigger."

"Of course, it is." Clarissa finally noticed the rows of half finished paintings at the back but to her credit, didn't just go rummaging through them. Instead, she pulled a bottle of red wine from her bag. "Want some?"

"If you don't mind drinking from these," Dee said, grabbing two clean glasses from by the sink. "Full disclosure, they've had paint in them but I washed them properly."

"I'm used to worse. Just yesterday, I accidentally drank from my dirty water." The grimace on Clarissa's face was a sight but she quickly shook the memory away.

Dee let out a wistful sigh. "I miss those days."

"Of drinking paint water?"

"Of being so in the zone that I can't remember which cup is which." She handed the glasses across and Clarissa's fingers brushed against hers. A little zap jolted across and time slowed considerably. The kiss flashed through Dee's mind and her gaze was drawn to the red lips that were responsible for that. They looked inviting somehow.

The shriek of the metal cap coming off the bottle of wine pulled her from her thoughts and she was careful not to let their hands touch when she accepted the full glass.

"You brought red," she noted.

"It would be pretty shitty to rock up with white," she said, holding her glass up. "Cheers."

Dee clinked and took a big swig from her wine, hopeful that it would take the edge of her anxiety. The whole situation was unexpected and definitely not what she pictured when she came back to her hometown.

It took her a full glass of wine and a bit before she gestured to her unfinished paintings. "Go on then. I know you're dying to see the disaster."

"Not dying," Clarissa said with a bit of a smile. "But I am totally curious, yes."

Dee leaned against her workbench, watching, waiting for the verdict. Clarissa took her time to flip through all the paintings and she looked at each with care and attention. There were no snide remarks, no witty quips, no little jokes. Just withering silence that likely meant the paintings were worse than she expected.

It was absolutely nerve-racking to have someone rifle through her works in progress because even if she was struggling with painting, it was still her heart and soul on the canvas. And it was even more revealing than a finished piece because this was all her struggles and fears and shortcomings laid bare.

"Say something," Dee prompted. Begged .

"It's..." Clarissa looked at her, her eyes full with genuine concern. "Lacking. But you know that."

Dee almost laughed. There was nothing like the harsh truth from her childhood rival to really drive home how dire the situation was. And the worst part was that she didn't even know what had caused her well of creativity to dry up. One day, she was on top of the world. The next, it hurt to pick up a brush.

"It's not unsalvageable, though. At least, I don't think so," Clarissa said.

"You don't have to lie."

"I'm not. I wouldn't, not about this." Hesitation flickered through Clarissa's blue eyes as she picked up one of the older paintings. She pointed at the brushes on the workbench. "I want to show you something. Can I?"

Dee's immediate instinct was to tell her fuck off but the feeling mellowed almost as instantly as it came. She'd never collaborated with anyone before and she'd certainly not let anyone paint over her. But at this point, what was the harm? If she said no, the only thing she'd be saving was her pride.

She didn't want pride. She wanted to paint.

"Do your worst," she said.

But Clarissa was gentle and considerate when she added her own touches. She highlighted some of the strong lines that already existed and painted flowers and plants over empty spots. The touches of colour she added clashed and harmonised with the monotone grey of the industrial buildings, both highlighting and shunning them.

Dee watched as her work disappeared under new layers of paint, like nature reclaiming an abandoned city. It was a surprisingly mesmerising process and she realised she'd never paid this much attention to Clarissa's techniques, her preferences, the way she blended and chose her colours. It was intimate in a different way than being painted over.

As the evening slipped by and the bottle of wine emptied, more streaks and flecks of paint appeared on Clarissa's hands and face. It was almost like an exchange in which she poured her soul into the painting and in turn, let the work consume her.

After a while, she stepped back and put her paintbrush back into the cup of thinner. "Okay, I think I'm done for now. What do you think?"

Dee had a lot of thoughts, some of them mean and nasty, others about her own inadequacy, but the most prominent ones were about just how talented Clarissa was. In very little time, she'd taken a dreadfully boring painting and turned it into a vibrant piece.

"You're wasted on Crescent Valley," Dee said eventually. And she truly meant it too.

Clarissa's sad smile revealed that the compliment was bittersweet. "Thank you. Now please look at it properly and tell me what you like and dislike."

Dee joined her in front of the painting, really taking in the details and changes. There was an alarming amount of green and it didn't look like her painting anymore but it also was because everything Clarissa added had honoured what was beneath. Somehow, it turned a drab building into a beautiful vibrant cityscape engulfed by nature with pink and blue flowers scattered throughout.

"I like it overall, I do," Dee said eventually, carefully choosing her words. "But there are patches here and here where you didn't use enough paint or too much. I don't know what's going on with this horrible green but if they sold it in a tube, they would call it vomit green. And either it's because you were in a rush or you're just impatient, but it's lacking refinement."

"I agree with everything you said."

While that was good, Dee still didn't fully know what to make of this or what she was supposed to do with this painting. While she liked it, it wasn't gallery quality and even if it were, she couldn't just sell it without Clarissa's permission. And it didn't fix the issue of the upcoming exhibition because getting someone to paint over all her shitty works was not a viable solution.

"I don't mean to be blunt, but what's the point of this?" Dee asked.

Clarissa finished the last of her wine and rotated her neck. "I'm not telling you. Just keep looking at it. I'm sure it'll come to you."

Such a frustratingly vague answer but Dee wasn't that desperate that she needed the answers spelled out for her as a child. And she was sure Clarissa had a reason for being like this so the best course of action was to sleep off the alcohol and look at it with fresh eyes in the morning.

A long sad whine came from the other side of the door followed by desperate scratching.

"Millie, not now!" Dee called, rolling her eyes at the intrusion.

Clarissa's laugh filled the room. "Bork does that too. Let me guess, it's time for food or walks."

"Walks. Hang on, let me check if my parents will take her," Dee said, realising she wasn't quite ready for her night with Clarissa to end. It was an unusual feeling and definitely unexpected but it was true.

"I don't mind going for a walk," Clarissa said, her head tilted to the side in a way that was a tiny bit similar to Bork. It was kind of adorable. Then again, a lot of what she did was actually sort of endearing because she did it all with those sparkling blue eyes and a hint of a smile around her lips. Those lovely soft lips of hers.

Dee squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to banish the image from her mind and nodded. Maybe a walk to clear her head was exactly what they needed. Even if it was a crescent moon tonight.