Road to Evergreen | #Wattys2016

f o r t y - e i g h t

Song for this chapter:
Beautiful disaster- John McLaughlin

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He wasn't lying at all. He isn't bothering me; not even a hint of a smile or literally anything. When he's present, I keep sneaking glances at him and my heart sinks a little deeper. One day he seems mad, and the other he's happy. But I always have a poker face on; too many of emotions to handle at once.

It's almost Spring and it's still raining heavily. I pull my car in the nearest spot I could manage and sprint to the art gallery. At first I had the urge to ditch but looking back, Spencer has always been there for me. Now, it's my turn. Besides, I did promise.

A month later after the fire, I'm standing in a modern gallery with paintings hanged everywhere with an exception of only one spotlight shedding upon each. The room is wide, with white walls and white floors. It resembles a minimalistic theme with an outstanding modern interior design. Champagne is offered around and I grab one directly off the waiter's tray as he passes by. I make my way in. I pass several masterpieces that are bold, contrasting and dramatic and I must say, the quality and the sheer imagination of the Spencer's paintings are breathtaking. I'm utterly surprised. A painting catches my eye at the end of the hall and I freeze.

I'm painted in the colours of vibrant scales of sand. I'm laughing hard, smile bright open but a tear of red wine is streaming down my cheek. I step closer and take it all in. It's delicate yet rough. It's thin yet thick. It's absolutely beautiful. It's absolutely false. He painted me the way I always awe that my life could be. Always laughing truly. But he managed to capture a hint of truth to it, the shedding of blood.

Tears stream down my cheek and I try shaking the feeling away. Spencer is a genius. I try too hard to be happy but miserably fail. There's always something coming in the way. I try to overlook the bad but how can I, if the good is a small dot surrounded by a wholesome of bad? I'm not a pessimist. I'm a realist.

"Lesley, why are you crying?" Spencer places his hand on my waist and pulls me closer as he frowns. I turn to meet him as my body shakes, "you're so talented."

"Thank you. Now stop crying," he orders. I nod and wipe my tears away. He's dressed in a navy blue tux with a black bow tie and white chemise. He looks very handsome.

"You know, this is one of my favourites," he gestures to the painting. "It was the one that took time more than the rest and it's the most expensive one." I narrow my eyes at the price and suck a breath in, "that's two thousand dollars, Spencer."

"People are requesting it the most," he says. "They what?" I ask. He chuckles, "it's true."

"Well, I might have to sue you," I joke. His face falls, "oh you're not that mean of a person."

"My face is on one the most expensive and requested painting. I have copyrights," I arch an eyebrow.

"Ofcourse you do. That's why you are getting none," he backfires. And I can't help but laugh. Someone calls for Spencer and he apologizes and leaves. I continue my tour, determined to purchase one of his items. I spot the cheapest one of hundred dollars and make my way to the front desk. After signing couple of papers, I try searching for Spencer but he's no where to be seen. Instead, I find Riley leaning on one of the walls, bored.

"Do you want me to shoot you so I can take you out of your misery?" He looks up at me and smiles, "Hey, Lessi."

I crinkle my nose. "What's with the god awful nickname?"

"It's awful. That's why I like it," he smirks. I roll my eyes. "Do you like Riri?"

"Umm ... No?" He makes a disgusted face.