31

"Nothing ever mattered to me more than this."

Sawyer

I stood before the easel, my gaze fixed on the blank canvas. My heart pounded with inspiration and determination as a million ideas ran through my head, but none stood out. This wouldn't be a regular painting, something that I would make for the fun of it. It was my ticket to the most prestigious internship at an art gallery in New York. Getting the internship was a guaranteed acceptance into any art school of my choice. Landing the opportunity would mean smooth sailing during my senior year.

With the hands of a surgeon, I dipped the brush into a palette of colors. I executed each stroke with precision. My mind raced with inspiration and creativity, but self-doubt overshadowed it. Was this up to par? Could it be better? It needed to be the best.

I poured my heart and soul into the painting as I channeled my thoughts and emotions into it. Each stroke of paint added depth and purpose to transform it into a masterpiece.

I spent hours on it, but I felt as if I'd barely scratched the surface. My head tilted to the side as I took it in. As if my hands had a mind of their own and took the lead. Two figures stood at opposite ends of a bridge, with vibrant and unique landscapes surrounding each of them, creating the impression of a painting cut in half. In the background, behind the figures, were two sunsets, each casting its hue over the bridge. One moon symbolized a golden warmth, the other a serene darkness. Despite the distance, there was a magnetic pull in the middle of the bridge, bringing this unlikely pair to a crossroads.

"I've always loved watching you paint."

I jumped at the sound of my mother's voice.

"How long have you been there?"

"A minute."

She stood in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the light from the hallway. Her movements were gentle and deliberate as she took a seat on the edge of my bed.

"I'm trying to make this as perfect as possible for the contest."

I placed my brush on the table and turned to her. It was clear she wanted to talk. She only did this when she wanted to discuss something.

"I just wanted to catch up." She said. "You've been busy."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize." she said, placing her hand on mine. "I'm glad you have things going on."

My corner lip twitched. She was referring to how much of a loner I was before we'd moved here. My paintings and books were the only companions I knew. Yet, as soon as I moved here, others drew me into their orbits.

"It is nice to have something of my own going on." I admitted. "And not having to rely on Noah to go anywhere."

She smiled before her eyes darted to my painting, and gazed at it as if she were a critic at a gallery.

"It's beautiful." She said, not taking her eyes off it. "What's the inspiration?"

I tilted my head, taking the full canvas in. It was as if someone else had painted it and I was trying to find the symbolism behind it.

"I don't know," I said. "It just kind of happened."

She placed her chin in her hands and stared at me. Really stared at me. She had a look in her eyes, judging me for not figuring it out. She reached over and patted my hand before standing up. Her eyes set on the painting once more before she maneuvered to the doorway. She glanced at me over her shoulder to deliver her parting words.

"You'll figure it out."

??

I had no idea hockey was such a big deal in this town. I stood at the edge of the bustling rink, my heart raced with anticipation as the spectators flocked to their seats like moths to light. The familiar scent of Josh's cologne enveloped my nostrils. I felt a surge of pride as I glanced down at the gray and white fabric adorning my body.

The rink buzzed with excitement as my mom and Mrs. Hart joined Stella and me. Around us, fans waved banners and erupted into a frenzy as the players stepped onto the ice.

I watched Josh glide along the ice. He skated around trying to rile the crowd up, but I glimpsed him scanning the crowd. With a wide smile, I raised my hand and waved it around, capturing his attention. I blew him a kiss. Even from across the rink, I could see his eyes light up as he spotted me. He raised his stick and pointed it in my direction with a wink before joining his teammates in a huddle.

"Hi, Asher." Mrs. Hart's voice broke me out of my stare.

I'd hardly turned my head to my right before he stole the vacant seat beside me. I could feel eyes on us and ripples of whispers, something that always seemed to follow Asher. He winked at me as we locked eyes, but I looked away and remained focused on the game. I could feel his smug grin burning into the side of my head. He leaned closer, his confidence radiating.

"Hey there, Ms. Bennet."

I glanced at him with a polite but guarded smile.

"Are you ever going to give that nickname up?"

"I think it suits you."

I turned away, pretending he wasn't there. Undeterred, he leaned even closer. I could see his grin widening from the corner of my eye.

"Nice jersey." He remarked, his tone laced with mischief.

"Thanks."

The crowd applauded as Josh's team scored. I clapped my hands, smiling as Josh's eyes focused on me, beaming in excitement. But it was short-lived. Asher leaned in front of me, blocking my view of Josh. I scoffed as he wiggled his fingers at Josh in a condescending wave. I pushed Asher's head away and shoved his hand down.

Asher chuckled, unaffected by my dismissal. His gaze lingered on me for a moment longer before he settled himself back in his seat.

This was going to be a long game.

??