My neck hurts from the whiplash that is this entire conversation, but I feel myself beaming anyway. Phantom wants to hang out again, withme! “Yeah. Sure. Great.”
“Maeve,” Phantom begins. I pause the celebratory dance party in my head and force myself to listen. “I’m not good.” A long pause. “With people, I mean.”
“We’re artists, Phantom,” I reply. “Pretty sure that’s kinda normal.”
They bob their chin once. “Right.”
“So . . . see you tomorrow?” I ask hopefully.
“Yeah, see you tomorrow. I’ll pick you up here after class.” Then, they turn and fade into the darkness.
The only remaining trace of them is the lightness in my step.
21Spark
The seconds are dragging by on purpose. They know I have something to look forward to tonight and are mocking me for it. Time has a funny way of slowing down or speeding up when you least want it to.
I force myself to focus on the blank canvas in front of me, pushing down the urge to check the time again. I’m supposed to be working on my midterm painting, the one I got an extension on, but I’m at a loss. I don’t want to recreate the painting that Remi destroyed, and I’m far too distracted today to find inspiration for a new composition.
Releasing a frustrated breath, I pack up my painting supplies and leave the canvas on the easel untouched. I exit the Rembrandt Building and walk back to my dorm. Wednesdays are the only day of the week I have a free period in the late afternoon, so I’m at the mercy of Phantom’s schedule. But since I still don’t know their real name, I have no way of looking them up or knowing what time their classes will be ending—if they’re even a student here in the first place.
When I get back to my dorm room, I find it empty. Iris must either still be in class or spending time with Claire. I toss my backpack and painting tote on the floor near the closet and shrug out of my coveralls. When I enter the bathroom, I’m shockedby the reflection in the mirror. Purple bags still frame my lower eyelids, but my forest green eyes are bright and full of life, more so than they have been in weeks. I run my fingers through my hair and contemplate what to do with it. Just as I’m reaching for my curling iron, my phone buzzes.
When I check it, I find a text from an unknown number.
Bring your painting stuff. We’re going to make some magic.
Phantom.It has to be.
I feel light-headed as I look back in the mirror.
I section the top half of my hair off into two messy buns and leave the lower half loose and wavy. If we’re painting tonight, I don’t need my bangs getting in the way.
I reapply my face powder but leave my eyelids and lips free of color. After so many weeks spent indoors, painting and attending classes, my freckles have receded, threatening to hibernate altogether for the winter season.
Returning to my room, I change into a comfy pair of black leggings and a thick emerald-colored sweater. I grab my protective coveralls and throw them in my bag. When I’m ready, I sit on my bed, leaning back against the pillows, and resolve myself to doom-scroll through social media while I wait for Phantom. But five minutes later, my phone buzzes again.
Here.
I check the time. It’s only four in the afternoon.
How did they know I wasn’t still in class?
Shaking the thought from my head, I jump from my bed and collect my things before dashing from the room. I take the stairs, humming with too much excitement to wait for the elevator.
As I throw the front doors open, Phantom is standing over a bicycle, their hands still gripping the handles. They’re dressed in black jeans, a denim button-up shirt, and the same heavy black coat from last night. Their hair is windblown, and the mask is there as before.
Of course,I scoff internally,in addition to being an artistic genius, they’re also insanely hot. How’s that fair?
“Hi,” I say breathlessly as I approach them, tucking the useless thought away.
“Nice buns,” they compliment, making me break eye contact. “Let me see your tote.”
I hand it over and watch them strap it to the back of the bike.
“Up you go,” they say when they’re done, jerking their chin toward the two standing pegs on either side of the back wheel.
“I’ve never ridden on a bike like this before,” I admit as I climb up unsteadily.
