Hasn't anyone ever told you not to Blink?
Blink and you're dead.
Blink and you're forgotten.
Don't Blink.
You've been warned. Good Luck
x x x x x x x
Meet Tunbridge College's walking mystery. A girl named Blink who eats candy to quell her smoking u...
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The same gasps that had filled the air minutes ago in outrage now filled the air in excitement.
"Astounding," even Justin had heard from a lady in the front row. Her hand was wrapped around what looked to be her husband's arm as she urged him to look at the painting even closer despite their distance of first row— a sure advantage from the others in the room.
Justin's eyebrows wrinkled in confusion, especially when he even witnessed James gaping at the painting a bit.
What the hell could she paint that had hundreds of people so speechless?
Going unnoticed, Justin started forward, stepping around the thick cherry red curtains as he took the steps on the side of the stage so he could walk to the very edge.
No one even glanced in his direction as he stopped abruptly just in front of the first row.
There on the seven foot easel was the painting he'd sat practically still for, weeks ago for an hour straight. It was like staring down at his own arms. There on the canvas was the monochrome, life-like painting of his forearms the Japanese symbols, cartoonish figures and all.
"The bid will begin at ten thousand"
It was the first time the auction had not been silent or...orderly for that matter. One person would flag their hand and open their mouth to place their bid and would immediately be interrupted by an even higher price. In the midst of all the chaos, Justin stood still like a statue. His breathing was labored and his jaw was sewed tight, but that didn't suffice as an outlet like the rage behind his eyes did.
He stood with his hands clenched in fists, his muscles rigid as he did nothing to move his eyes from the green eyed beauty up on the stage. At this point James had taken over the bids due to their speed and talk of money, but still Blink hadn't looked down. She hadn't looked down to where she was well aware of where Justin was standing.
The anger was getting to him. Reaching up, Justin pulled roughly to untie his bowtie and even unbuttoned the first three buttons of his white button up. Turning on his heels, he fled through the crowd expertly, not paying any attention to the yells of the woman and men around him.
Something about the experience made it not so exciting anymore.
Stuffing his bowtie into his pocket, he was pushing out of the auditorium doors, his plan to find an exit as soon as he could. Anything to get out of that room with all those people. With her...
Seconds after the boy retreated and was no longer in sight, Blink snapped into action. Her heels proved to be no problem as she strode across the rest of the stage to descend the steps Justin had.
Before her foot could even hit the first step, James was barking out to her, insisting that she stay until this was all over. He could barely get a word in between all the shouting of the crowd that had formed at the edge of the stage in angst of getting the astounding artist's only frame. She was simply going to ignore him, race down the steps and find Justin so that they could talk.
Then, James really laid it on thick. Telling her about the money she would receive in the moments after the bids, how people would want her to stay behind to congratulate her and toast her success...basically any excuse he could lash out to keep her from running after her little boyfriend.
Jesus, he made it out to be as if her options were between either the money or Justin. The money...or Justin...money or Justin? The money? Of course not. She was doing ok, sure she was up to her chin in family debt and loans to the school, but she needed to apologize to Justin. Maybe he wouldn't accept her apology, but he needed to know she felt guilty.
She'd seen the hurt on his face when he saw exactly what it was she was showing to an auditorium filled with hundreds of people. He had already expressed back when she'd painted it how his tattoos were a type of mask. A mask of all his insecurities and stories he'd left behind at home while he was starting fresh. She'd understood that mask and now the one of anger he'd quickly used to replace the obvious hurt.
Now as she thought back, that call to Rellik was the stupidest thing she could've ever done. Sure he'd mentioned having a plan, but she never would've thought it'd involved the painting she knew he'd stolen and sent in from her room.
It was on purpose. It was payback for the little stunt she'd pulled before she left for Detroit. Damn him for being so cruel. Damn him for indulging in watching her in pain. And damn herself for falling for it.
Rellik was smart enough to know that once she saw her original painting in the pile of amateur work, she would throw the others away. He'd been smarter than her, waiting for a moment of naiveté and vulnerability before he struck back and she was dumb enough to fall for it.
Fuck it
Lifting the train of her dress, she slipped down the steps of the stage, ignoring the yells and bouts spewing from James' mouth— the strong Russian accent spilling through and admitting just how angry he was.
