Finding Obsidian

20 - Bet

"My god."

"That's—wow."

"How did you even get it to fit?"

Rokim, Lisa and Vanessa stared up at Rian's creation in awe. And yes, I do mean up. No slip of the tongue there. The thing was huge.

"That's what she said," I drawled. 

Four pairs of eyes cut to mine, their expressions ranging from amusement to pride to disgust. I shrugged nonchalantly, grinning when I locked knowing gazes with Lisa. "What? If you guys don't want me to say it then don't make it so easy."

Rokim exhaled loudly. "Fair point," he acquiesced. He turned to Rian, whose dark stare I just noticed was fixed on me. I frowned confusedly. Rokim clucked his tongue and snapped his fingers sharply, stepping to block me from Rian's rapacious glare. 

"Hey—hey. You still with us, Haltie?"

My confusion rapidly shifted to glee, and I tried in vain to choke back a laugh. Rian gave Rokim a withering glance, but the damage was done. That was it. I was gone.

Haltie? Where the hell did Rokim get that from? I thought between howls of laughter. I distantly heard Lisa join in, but the name was so casual, so downright cuddly that it took me a full minute to calm down. 

"Are you finished?" came Rian's irritated response. I smirked, wiping tears from my eyes with an exaggerated flourish.

"Only if you are, Haltie," I replied smugly, my voice husky from mirth. My suggestive words had the desired effect; Rian scowled, but not before reflexively wetting his lips with a dark glint in his eyes.

A jolting movement in my peripheral vision caught my attention. Vanessa had whipped out a knife, the sleek metal glinting brightly in the light. "The judging, remember?" she said innocently when I shot her a questioning look. 

"Ah, right." Rokim grimaced, glancing over at Vanessa with an almost nervous expression. "We're gonna have to cut this thing down somehow." He surveyed the room. "I'll go get some serving utensils from my apartment. Ness," he said firmly, tilting his head towards the door, "wanna help me out?"

Vanessa sighed and put down her knife, to Rokim's obvious relief. "Fine, if you insist."

Lisa watched them go—with a surprising tense expression, might I add—before leaning over, one prim eyebrow raised cheekily. "So . . . were you an art student in your past life or something?" she asked Rian.

He lifted his shoulder casually. "It's a hobby of mine."

I snorted, momentarily forgetting our little feud. "Hobby? The boy's practically Van Gogh, except with both ears intact." I hopped up on the counter, my legs dangling off the edge. "He could have gone to freaking MIT and taken their world-class arts program, but no, he just had to have his degree in psychology."

For the second time in ten minutes, I felt a more than one pair of eyes fix on me. Rian's were of particular interest; his scowl was absolutely scathing. My answering smile was wicked, and I slowly lied back on the counter, not breaking my now upside-down gaze from his. 

"Careful, Haltie," I said, my voice teasing and deceptively soft. "Scowling does you no good, you know. You'll get wrinkles."

The following silence was tense. Rian glared hard at me. I stared right back, unwilling to lose this little contest we'd begun, but I was suddenly distracted by coolness on my hip. 

In response to my diverted attention, Rian's eyes flicked further down my body. 

Then a couple things happened: he swallowed, his eyes darkening in that familiar way I recognized from the elevator. I frowned—why was he looking at me like that?—and then I realized that my shirt had ridden up when I'd stretched out on the counter. The curve of my hip and the barest hint of my navel were exposed, open to the air.