They turn away from me then, and I hear them breathe yet another phrase under their breath, but I must’ve heard wrong. Why would Phantom say ‘always is’?
We pack up our supplies and canvases in the dark, but we leave the easels and stools behind. Phantom says they’ll retrieve them tomorrow. As we ride back into town, I smell peppermint again as I lean in close to speak in Phantom’s ear. “Thanks for tonight. I didn’t know how much I needed that. The advice, the forest...”
“That’s what friends are for,” they say in an amused tone. “Or so I’ve heard.”
I’m so elated I can’t stop myself.
I lean down with the intent of kissing Phantom’s cheek over their mask, but my sudden movement makes them startle and lose control of the bike for a moment, swerving off the sidewalk. I crush myself against their back, holding on tight so I don’t fall off.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have tried to move,” I apologize after they regain control.
But Phantom laughs. A real laugh this time. Deep and genuine.
It’s music to my ears.
“You sure know how to keep a person on their toes,” they say as they round on my dorm building.
After I dismount, Phantom points to the canvas bag strapped to my back. “Submit that for your midterm assignment.”
“You don’t want it?” I ask shyly. After all, I painted it for them.
“I can’t be selfish with your art like that, Maeve.”
I convince myself that the goosebumps suddenly breaking out across my skin are from the cold and not from the sound of my name on their lips.
“Okay,” I say before a beat of silence passes us by. “Can I text you tomorrow?”
They nod, and as they do, their eyes seem to smile again.
I dream of those eyes; two bright portals that transport me to a different world.
A better world.
A world with magic and art.
A world where I’m completely and utterlyseen.
22Invisible
I’m smiling like an idiot when I wake up the next morning. My painting session with Phantom reignited something in me that had been dampened. My zeal for life, perhaps? Well, whatever it is, at least I know I’m grateful for the side effects because, for the first time in too long, I’m in the mood to paint.
I hop out of bed and whiz through my morning routine. By the time Iris is waking up, I’m already heading out the door.
“Where are you off to so early?” she groans from under her covers.
“To paint a bit before class.”
A smirk tugs at her lips even though she’s trying her best to hide it. “Good for you. See you later.”
“Bye!”
I dash to the Rembrandt Building, making record time.
“Are there any studios available for reservation?” I ask Chelsea, the studio coordinator, behind her desk in the front lobby.
“Afraid not,” she says. “They’re all booked up today.”
I curse under my breath as I walk away, checking the time on my phone. There’s still plenty of time before my first class of the day.
