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chapter twenty-two. the dark knight
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In these last, hazy days of summer a few simple tips to beat the heat: One: Drink plenty of fluids. Two: Stay out of the sun. Three: Limit all physical activity. That is, within reason. And if the heat's still too much, there's always a cold shower.
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RIVEN ADMIRED THE brushstrokes of Victoria Humphrey as he laid, sprawled across her bed, a book, To Kill a Mockingbird, tightly in his grasp and which didn't have his full attention. He, in fact, peered over the top of his pages and had been watching as his friend conjured what was deemed ( by them both ) was the perfect piece to be handing over in the conclusion of Victoria's internship with his mother. It was no doubt going to be weird for him, that he wouldn't see her everyday like he had during the summer, that there wasn't an excuse such as grabbing lunch with his mother to just catch a glimpse of the Humphrey.
He didn't know whether or not he liked her. To be honest, he didn't understand the admiration he held for her. Riven knew and he deeply understood that Victoria's heart occasionally did beat for Nate Archibald. All throughout the summer Victoria had a difficult time trying to paint the perfect artwork, and as soon as her reunion with Nate occurred it had abled her to be capable of picking up a brush and fill the blank canvas she had been waiting to use.
The conclusion was. . .Riven and Victoria were to be nothing but friends. So, Riven had been going on dates, becoming New York's most eligible bachelor, but he had, most importantly, aided Victoria in a way a friend would. He was her emotional support, the person she came to when she needed comfort or a shoulder to cry on. The Huntington was far happy to give her such things, and the more he spent time with her, the more he realised had deep he was in the friendzone that he started to fool himself on thinking that this 'admiration' could slip away.
And there were to be other ways he could distract the admiration, by pushing Victoria into the idea of Nate Archibald, the boy she clearly admired far more and reeled after. "Not to interrupt your flow. . ." When Riven spoke it always sounded foreign to Victoria, even though he spent the first ten years of his life in London, the boy's accent had never slipped away.
Victoria lowered her paintbrush from her canvas, admiring the colours that intertwined before glancing over her shoulder at the curly haired man. "What?" She pondered.
"But when are you going to call Nate?" Riven queried causing for the teen's brows to arch and for her to spin on her stool to point her body in direction of the Huntington. He didn't expect her confusion and the way her arms roughly crossed over her chest, her hands covered in the paint she had been stroking onto the canvas. "I think instead of. . .ignoring him, you should tell him how you felt about him. . .waiting to the last minute before cancelling."
