Is There Somewhere?

Part 22

Lexa arrived early, as she always does to everything. There were a few people mingling, teenagers dressed in waiter uniforms with platters floating around the room. Her eyes roamed her surroundings, passively glancing over beautiful artwork in search of blonde hair in the small groups. None.

She tried to act natural, as if she had just casually wandered into the building. She was dressed in a more casual manner than before. She'd called her father, asking him for advice and he'd informed her that she had to maintain a low profile. With that in mind, Lexa's outfit was just that.

A worn leather jacket, ripped jeans and a blue t-shirt. Her hair was down again, but her glasses were perched on her nose. She normally didn't wear them out, opting for her contacts instead, but this time she needed to maintain a low profile.

She was underdressed.

Like, painfully underdressed compared to everyone else around her. It made her shoulders ache at the idea. She should have worn a suit, a button up, something that didn't look like she'd just wandered off the street.

Trying to ignore the looks she was getting, she kept her attention trained on the art. Keeping to the outskirts, Lexa gazed at the art as she passed. There were three different sections, each with their own title.

Lexa spent most of her time in the kids area, where several of them were wandering around. The boys dressed in suits too big for them and the girls awkwardly talking to each other with their arms crossed over their chests. Middle schoolers. Lexa remembered that time, she'd been so awkward.

But these kids, their art, it was amazing. Someone had painted a flower that reflected the light of an invisible sun. A boy had drawn a pencil-sketch of someone mid-catch of a football. It was so professional, talented and Lexa was so proud of them. She tried to memorize the names on the plaques, try to guess which one matched which face. Without speaking with any of them, she moved along.

The next section was in the middle of the room. These were the normal artists, the ones that Marcus constantly had commissioned and provided a steady salary for to ensure they pumped out art that they needed to.

Then she saw it. It was the center piece, of a specific collection. A tall, canvas with a black outlined silhouette in the middle. It was the back of a woman, the sides curved as the person stretched upward. The hair was curling over the left shoulder and the face was twisted towards the right, part of the jaw the only identifying feature. The edge of a messy bed was visible at the bottom as sunlight peaked in through floor to ceiling windows.

It was warm, and colors exploded outward from the silhouette to the left and right. Like an aura, deep purples and bright oranges. Lexa stared, her chest aching as she reached out, intending to touch it, to trace the curves, before yanking her hand back because she was not supposed to touch the art. The sign was posted right there, for God's sake.

"You like it?"

A shiver ran down Lexa's spine at the soft voice. The natural, low timber that sent her heart racing. Lexa's eyes fell closed as she sucked in a breath to recover. When they opened again, it was to stare at the painting again. "When did you...? How did you...? This is..."

"I know."

They stood there, Clarke's body so close to her own, Lexa could feel her breath on the back of her neck. The brunette finally turned, stepping to the right and twisting her body so they were a decent space apart.