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EIGHT

Even in the comfort of the expensive, borrowed bed, sleep carily chewed out Rafiq and all of his idiot friends The redheaded wo out was at the top ofend of quite the angry dreaue

Whenfinally ca sounded better than a long, hot shower, and a giant cup of coffee I wanted nothing less than to speak to Rafiq, possibly for the entirety of the day

Folding a pants and T-shirt, I peeked out into the living rooe The place was a wreck, but at the very least, it seemed like everyone had finally bailed back to their own penthouses, or wherever it was that they slept

Padding across the floor toward the kitchen, I heard a softroom and ju so deeply I hadn’t noticed him at first

Anger bubbled up insideback All I could hear in ht before, and all I could see was his handsome, stupid face in the crowd, blissfully unaware of me, and wrapped up in the arms of another woman

But as I stood there and watched hi else caan to fade, and the present htless Rafiq was nowhere to be seen Instead, I watched this different version of him, stretched out with his arms all askew like a kid about to fall off a bunk bed after a restless night of sleep Shirtless, his bronze skin glistened with the tiniest layer of sweat His tattoos were alive with color, rising and falling with the soft rhyth face made him seem more honest, more human, than I had ever seen him before

It was like I was looking at the real Rafiq, and the real Rafiq was beautiful, sensitive, soft, and almost innocent

A pang of hurt hitthat he’d never lookedwhat tur the day I’d been around long enough to know that no one partied as hard as Rafiq did for no reason He was running, or hiding, fro room, he couldn’t hide It was the real him

An urge I recognized all too well rang like a clear bell in the back ofelse had come up

I went to the painting rooathered up an easel and a medium-sized canvas, as well as paints, brushes, and scrapers It took le for the easel in the living room, but when I did, a smile burst across my face

I began to paint Rafiq as I saw him in this moment, in his deep innocence, asleep on the couch The way the sunlight filtered through the penthouse s to warht fervor to the colors I used I opted for bright yellows and whites and oranges to ht in the roo at the scene

The palate spoke of nostalgia, but the boldness of the colors themselves ia But I would have this painting to rehtness lay underneath, once upon a time

I reia, and it only made me paint faster

Two hours flew by before I realized any time had passed Like always happened in the midst of a moment of true inspiration, I co stoer for Rafiq I painted furiously until I looked up and saw Rafiq shifting, his eyelids fluttering open as consciousness came over him

My heart seized up in e to hide, but instead, I just froze there like a deer caught in headlights, trapped behind the canvas

Rafiq groaned unhappily as heover on the couch and rubbing his hands over his face He sat up and rubbed at a sore spot on his neck, realizing a few seconds later that he wasn’t alone He looked up slowly and his eyeshim

Rafiq frowned “Evangeline?”

His voice was dry, cracked, almost non-existent, and his eyes darted from me to the back of the canvas and easel

“Uh, hi,” I said , Rafiq”

“What are you doing?” he asked, instantly suspicious

I sed “Just painting” Technically not a lie, right?

“Painting what?” Rafiq stood up, and so dark had come over his face

“N-Nothing…”I said