Damn it. What Susie had warned me about had flown out of my head, and I had forgotten to look up.
Patrick’s eyes traveled from the splash of color on my neck down to the paint on my side and ankle. “You’re not going to pass the trial. You do know that there will be almost a hundred people in this course, and right now, there are only eleven, don’t you?”
His words probably had the opposite effect than intended, because having two assholes hoping that I’d fail just made me twice as determined.
“Maybe you should stop wasting all of our time.”
“Hmmm, let me think.” I tapped my chin with my middle finger. “Everyone here is very kindly volunteering their time. If you have an aversion to helping me, please, just don’t.”
Patrick took a step back, held up his fist, and motioned twirling a jack-in-the-box, and then popped up his middle finger. “We have Lucas’ back, not your back. This is bullshit.” Louder, he called, “She’s right here.”
Asshole.
I ran to the adjacent building and threw open the door. Three steps in, paint slapped up my other arm. I kept running straight into flashing lights and pumping techno music. The area was set up like a club, but instead of people, the dancefloor was crowded with creepy mannequins. Almost every posed plastic figure was splashed with yellow paint.
The thundering sound of running feet came at me from two directions as I skirted the crowd, and then I felt two more paint slaps, one on my shoulder and the other on my back.
Lucas and Zack jogged to either side of me, effortlessly keeping up.
“You doing okay?” Lucas called over through a laugh. “You look like you might have been hit.”
“Actually, Blondie, you look like a rainbow took a shit on you,” Zack called over as he started running backward before me. “And, no wonder. Is this full speed for you?”
“Thanks . . .” I said dryly. I slowed as one of my sides seared with pain. Panting, I winced and said, “So, this is fun.”
Zack threw up his hands. “Hell yeah, it is. Just so you know, the greatest quantity of people will always be around the finish line, so, all of us are heading to the front.”
Lucas chuckled when I groaned. “We’ll hang back to even the odds.”
“Like hell. Okay . . .” Zack paused and threw his arms around two of the creepy-ass mannequins. “We’ll give you a one-minute head start and hang out with these party animals. But that’s it.”
On the other side of the club, I just basically walked down the road as everyone slapped me with paint sticks. There was definitely some laughing behind me that I wasn’t sure was with me instead of at me.
“All right,” Lucas said through a chuckle as he walked up to me and casually slapped his paint stick against my arm. “I think she’s had enough.”
I peered back at the group, seeing them all grinning. When I checked down my shirt, which was doused in blue paint with a little red and yellow mixed in, I couldn’t help but laugh too. “I’m guessing this is pretty bad.”
Lucas’s brow wrinkled, and I could tell he was trying to think of something nice to say.
“You don’t stand a chance in hell.” This was from Patrick.
“Patrick, shut the fuck up already,” Mia said as she stepped forward. “Look.” She gestured to where a line of red paint streaked across her shoulder. “This chick was good enough to make Michael and I hit each other, and we’re no lightweights.”
I got the feeling that she meant in terms of the obstacle course as both she and Michael were definitely tall and muscular.
Michael held up his arm, showing the paint streak there. “You slipped right past me.” His warm brown eyes met mine and smiled. “Tell Richard that. He’ll want to know.”
I nodded before giving the grinning group one more wave and slipping through.
Richard started laughing the moment he saw me. The bench in the room outside this one had paint droplets all over it, so I didn’t feel bad slumping down on it. Bailey looked at me, but she didn’t move a muscle from where Richard was still petting her head. I grabbed the water bottle and gulped the entire thing down before going for the stack of towels.
Richard rolled up beside me. “So, this is the only day you’re going to have to go through that humiliation before the trials. The rest of the week, it’s only going to be me, okay? I have a talent for thinking out of the box when it comes to obstacle courses. I think that Lucas and Zack are taking the written Academic Trial and Susie is taking your Character Trial.”
“So, yeah . . .” I paused to wipe my sticky hair back from my neck and then pulled the towel away. “Is this a box it’s possible to think our way out of.”
His lips twisted into a grimace, and he looked around the room. “Well, the bad news is the red hits were ten points, yellow were five, and blue were two points.” He winced. “And twenty points would be a fail.”
I quickly calculated it in my head. “I got forty-six points.”
“The second set of bad news is that you got that many points with eleven people. There are going to be close to a hundred in there during the trial — Academy Alumni and a lot of those are assholes. The third part of the bad news, we only have until Saturday to train you, and most people start off much more physically prepared and train for months.”
“Are you telling me to give up?” I asked, and I instinctively knew that if this guy told me to give up, it would have the opposite effect as when Patrick told me to do it.
“Never,” Richard said with a warm grin. “I might give you a hard time, but I won’t encourage anyone to give up, no matter the odds. That’s just not who I am. I do have some good news about this, okay? Everyone gets one accommodation.”
“Accommodation? What does that mean exactly?” I asked while wiping paint out of my ear.
“There will be a room of supplies you can choose one item from, or you can request something be changed about the course. A lot of people go with a baseball bat, which is foam, of course, as they don’t actually want us to injure each other. Another common choice is boxing gloves. Some go with a bike or climbing gear.”
“What did you choose?” I asked, before realizing that my question could be invasive. “Sorry, you don’t need to answer that.”
He chuckled. “I got two. They have a system of ramps that can be lifted throughout, so I asked for the city to be changed to accommodate my chair. For the second, I went with the bo staff. But . . .” he winced, “I don’t recommend you choose that one. I trained for a year for that specific event with my mother, who is an army veteran with training in mixed martial arts, and I still got hit in places I couldn’t protect. I’ll be honest with you, a lot of people choose the bo staff as it seems great in theory, but we actually joke that it’s the kiss of death.”
I waved a hand through the air. “I wasn’t going to pick any kind of weapon. Trust me. The only thing I seemed whatsoever good at was sneaking, and that didn’t last long.”
“Is that the reason behind the running shoe necklace?” He pointed.
I craned my neck to peer down at my sneakers. The majority of them were blue, but there were definitely some yellow splatters. “Well, they’re going to fit in with my other shoes.”
“Can I ask you something?” Richard asked.
“Yeah, of course.”
He considered me for a second, and when he spoke again, he seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “Did your school offer human anatomy, and, if yes, did you take it?”
“I took anatomy.”
He nodded. “I admit, I had a small ulterior motive in wanting you to get into Blackburn. You see, I have to take human anatomy independently as a prerequisite for the major I want to be in next year.”
“They don’t offer anatomy and physiology at Blackburn?”
“Not of humans, no,” he muttered. “I wanted to ask you, if you got into Blackburn . . .” He trailed off and grinned, his expression looking a little bashful. “I’m not very good at asking people for favor
s.”
“It’s hardly a favor considering the fact that you’re doing all this for me. Of course, I would help you with your independent study if that’s what you’re asking — even if I don’t get in.”
Relief passed over his features, and he grinned. “Appreciated. Well, I have to head to my internship, January. But, think about the obstacle course and what type of accommodation would work best for you. We’re not going to be able to come back here until trial day — the Robertses were the ones who set this up. Does five a.m. at Midtown Park work for you?”
I set the towels down on the bench beside me, careful to keep the majority of the paint side up. “I don’t want you to have to —”
“Sorry. Don’t have time for your guilt. Got to run. Just say you’ll meet me and don’t waste time that I need to get to my internship on time.”
“Of course.”
He flashed another wide grin and wheeled out of the room.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Hold up, Blondie,” Zack called from the backseat as I peeled my sticky ass away from the binder paper they’d used to protect their truck seat.
“Yeah?” I asked while pulling bits of paper off from where it’d adhered to the paint. Even though it wasn’t quite nine a.m. yet, the day was already sweltering. Sweat dripped down my back, making my stiff clothing stick to me. Bailey hopped out of the Baldwins’ backseat and rushed over into the shade.
Zack leaned over the back of the passenger seat. Aside from their personalities, the more I knew the guys, the more physical differences I noticed between the Baldwin twins. Zack had brown hazel-eyes while Lucas’ eyes were deep, almost black, brown. Lucas also had a little more weight on his brother.
One by one, Zack stacked textbooks in front of me, Calculus, Biochemistry, Philosophy, Art Theory, Economy, and World History. He set his hand on the stack. “Now memorize these. We’ll be by to pick you up at six.”
“Translation …” Lucas leaned in and grinned, “Please go through as many of the study guides at the end of each chapter that you have time for. If there’s anything in there you are rusty at or don’t know, jot it down so we can all work through it at the library.”
“Got it.” I grabbed the stack of books.
“And . . .” Zack nodded to the books, “Don’t get paint on those because they’re like a hundred dollars each.”
“Please,” Lucas added.
Oh, I already knew that, and I was being careful. Calling back another thank you, I headed across the gravel driveway toward Bailey, who was staring at something and wagging her tail. Seeing the object of Bailey’s fascination, I stopped dead. Justin was fast asleep, leaning up against the wall on my front stoop. Beside him sat a huge portfolio case. He was still in the shade, but very soon, the merciless sun would cook him alive.
Careful to step around him, I let my dog out of the heat and ran the textbooks up to my room, refilled Bailey’s water bowl, and jogged back down.
“Justin,” I said as I crouched down beside him. When he didn’t rouse, I shook his shoulder. “Wake up.”
“January,” he mumbled before yawning and stretching up his arms. Justin’s eyes opened slowly, as a rare smile spread over his lips. “Hey, baby.”
Baby? Was he drunk?
His eyes slipped closed again before snapping open. He looked around for a second, clearly disoriented, and then his gaze fixed on me. Justin’s eyes passed over my paint-covered clothing with one quick sweep, and he smiled. “I guess I had nothing to worry about.”
I shoved my water bottle at him. “Here. Don’t die. I’m going up to shower.”
I jumped to my feet, immediately feeling pain twinging through my muscles one by one.
“Wait.” Justin stood and grabbed the portfolio. “This is yours.”
“Okay . . .” When I reached for it, he just gave me a look.
“It’s heavy. You hold the door open, and I’ll carry it up the stairs.”
My dumbass butterflies erupted into motion at that. Even though we’d been alone in my room a hundred times, the idea of inviting Justin up to this new apartment made my heart flutter.
“This better not be some kind of trick.” I held the door open for him.
Justin headed up the stairs and waited at the top. He lifted his dark brows as I hopped up behind him. “Of course, it’s a trick,” he said. “I’m just hoping it’s a trick that will make you happy enough to do what I want you to do.”
Leaning past him, I unlocked the front door and let him in. “Well, at least you’re self-aware of how manipulative you’re being.”
In an explosion of fur, Bailey hopped forward. Her giant dog booty wiggled like mad as she danced in place. She then rolled over onto Justin’s feet and barked once.
“At least someone’s happy to see me,” he said as he squatted down and scratched behind Bailey’s ears. While petting my infatuated dog, Justin glanced around the apartment.
We’d decorated it to the fullest extent that we could. My grandmother had her area where she’d hung some framed needlepoint passages from the bible, all of them about love. A couple of my ink pieces hung in salvaged frames. The house had come furnished and stocked, but my colorful and mismatched finds were mixed in everywhere. When Justin looked back, his eyes were half-lidded.
“You look like you need to go back to bed,” I said as I reached for the portfolio.
He leaned against the wall. “Can I stay while you open it?”
His request sent a thrum of nervousness through me as I reached for the bag’s zipper. “Okay. What’s in here?” The zipper threads seemed to pull apart at an excruciatingly slow pace. And as I saw the colorful corner of the plywood board in the front of the portfolio, emotion clogged my throat, and a tear immediately fell onto my cheek. “What?” I whispered. “How did you?”
I pulled out the first painting; it was of a baby angel. The little girl was actually me, with a full head of blond curls. She had her eyes closed, and she was going to eat a cherry, but a baby Pegasus went to eat it instead. My mother had painted it directly onto my wall. Meaning, Justin must have sawed into the drywall to get it out, sanded down the back, and plastered the whole thing on plywood.
I set the painting aside carefully and pulled out the next. This one was one of mine. It was an action painting of an elf riding a red dragon that I’d detailed on the boarded-up windows. Her dark hair flew through the air as she threw a spear.
“Today at three o’clock is the last day for instant admissions at Riley Art Academy. They offer scholarships.”
The fact that he’d done this with an ulterior motive should have dampened how touched I felt, but it didn’t. Tears streamed down my face as I looked back up. “Justin, half of these are my mom’s.”
“The fluffy ones?” he asked, looking over at the next painting which was of a beautiful fairy bathed in moonlight. By fluffy, I was guessing he meant romantic. More than one person had exclaimed how funny it was that someone as cynical as my mother painted such whimsical pictures. My mother was living proof that being deeply romantic and cynical were far from mutually exclusive.
“Basically, all of the ones that aren’t fight scenes.”
He leaned against the wall, his eyes closing. “There are still plenty.”
I crossed the space over to him. “Hey, Justin.” When he fought his eyes open, I whispered, “thank you. But, no, it’s not going to work. I’ve actually had the opportunity to go to Riley before and turned it down.”
He opened one eye at me. “Why?”
“Because art is a part of my soul. When I start doing it competitively, I feel that part of my soul dying. Also, it’s a hard career, even if you’re amazingly talented. Every professional artist I have ever met has lived hand-to-mouth, and there are droves of people looking to take advantage of artists who are desperate for work. But . . .” I reached for his hand, and he wrapped his fingers around mine, “even if you do this with a motive, thank you so much for doing it. When you said you were going
to sabotage me; I really didn’t expect something like this.”
His one open eye slipped closed. “This is just the beginning.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. I need to shower. Do you want to nap here? You don’t look safe to walk.”
Without responding, he trudged further into the apartment, peeked into Nana’s room, kept walking, and then headed into mine. I’d intended to offer my couch, but when I stopped by my bedroom on the way to the shower, I didn’t correct the boy. He kicked off his shoes and sprawled across my brand-new queen-sized mattress. His arm hugged one of my new feather pillows to his head.
“Just to warn you, I always study in bed,” I told him. “So, you might wake up with me sitting beside you.”
“Good,” he muttered as he nestled into my pillow. Bailey immediately leaped up and settled alongside him, not even so much as glancing back at me for permission to go on my bed. The little minx. He threw an arm around her, and they immediately settled into sleep.
Seeing him there, hugging my dog, made the monarchs in my belly do gymnastics, and I forced myself to walk away.
It took me nearly an hour to scrub all of my paint off. After, I left my new gym clothes in the tub to soak.
Justin and Bailey were still fast asleep when I plopped the pile of textbooks on my nightstand and began to thumb through the first book. I had been learning art theory in the cradle, so I started with my weakest subject, which was calculus. While I put a few sticky notes on the first half of the book, the second half got one every other chapter. Midway through the BioChem textbook, I ran out of notes. Thankfully, I was familiar with all but one chapter in the philosophy textbook, and I hunkered down to read it.
Within minutes, the words were blurring together, and my eyelids grew too heavy to lift. I forced them back up, but they slipped closed again.
The world slowly returned to focus as my bed shifted under me. As awareness returned, I realized that it wasn’t a mattress that moved, but a massive chest. I fought my eyes open and craned my neck to see that not only had I fallen asleep mid-studying, but I’d also managed to climb halfway onto Justin, who was still fast asleep.
Midnight Secrets Page 12
