How Sinners Fight - Eva Ashwood Page 0,64
corner, the smallest fish in a sea of sharks, but one where I am the main event. The star of the show.
I couldn’t be more fucking terrified.
And excited.
I sigh, glancing over my painting. I’ve still got one more piece I need for the show, but I’ve been hesitating about this one. I’m not sure if I’m ready to show it yet.
It’s the hallway from my dreams.
Oh, did I mention my dreams have come back? As if something was unlocked inside of me the day that Declan finally convinced me to share my pieces with the world, the dreams have returned in a flood, more vivid and violent than ever before.
This particular piece is a second draft of the painting I did that first night I dreamed after getting back to the school, one with more details and shadows filled in, one that makes my stomach turn every time I look at it.
This painting holds the deepest, darkest, part of me—a part of me I don’t even understand or remember.
I leave it out to dry as I clean up my paints and get ready to head to class, forcing myself not to shove it into a corner where the paint will smudge and I’ll eventually forget about it.
I’ve been painting in the mornings because it’s the time of day when everything seems most fresh and clear, when the images practically spill from my brush onto the canvas. It’s meant I’m getting a little less sleep overall, but it’s worth it.
The guys meet me to walk across campus with me as usual, and Max and I sit together in our first class.
The day drags a little. I’ve been working hard to stay on top of schoolwork, despite everything else that’s going on, but the art show is proving to be a big distraction. I’m not even handling the logistics of it, but all I want to be doing right now is painting, which makes sitting through lectures hard as hell.
In the afternoon, Max escorts me partway to my final class as we chat about the upcoming show. She’s been enthusiastically on board ever since the idea first popped up, and we spend so much time talking about it that we both end up late for class. We split up, hurrying to our separate buildings.
When I reach Hurst Hall, I slip inside quickly. It’s a small building that only holds a few classrooms, so it’s quiet as I head down the hall.
I almost don’t notice a voice echoing through the empty corridor up ahead, but thank god I do, because as I round the corner, I immediately catch sight of Cliff standing alone in the hallway, his back to me and his phone pressed to his ear. I freeze in my tracks before he sees me.
Scrambling back around the corner, I press a hand to my racing heart and strain to listen.
I don’t know who he’s talking to, but he’s pissed as hell.
“I want to act now,” Cliff growls. “I’m sick and tired of fucking waiting. That’s all you ever tell me to do, and I’m sick of it. I can handle this. I can handle her.”
I frown. There’s no doubt in my mind who she might be.
Me.
“I want to do more. I want to make her pay for embarrassing me in front of the entire fucking school.” I don’t have to see him to know he’s shaking in rage. “No, I don’t want to fucking leave her alone!”
I raise an eyebrow. He doesn’t say anything for a long couple of seconds, whoever is on the other side of the phone presumably trying to calm him the fuck down, because when he speaks again, his voice is clipped and contained.
“Fine. I’ll wait. But I’m not going to let this go. You fucking promised me.”
His footsteps echo through the hall, and I panic, trying to scramble away, but it’s too late.
Fuck, I didn’t realize how close he was.
Cliff comes into view, pressing a button on his phone to end the call. When he looks up and his gaze lands on me, his eyes go wide. He shoves the phone into his pocket and strides toward me, boxing me in against the wall as his features harden.
“Don’t get too comfortable, Sophie,” he says, his low voice brushing against my skin on a hot wave of breath. My skin crawls. “Don’t think you’re safe. The Sinners can’t always protect you, no matter how many fucking lies they tell you.”
My heart is an erratic drumbeat in my