Chapter 10 CHAP 9.2

Jayla, Jade, and Jasmine sat huddled together on the couch, lost in their thoughts. A movie was playing, but each of the three paid no attention. Jasmine leaned her head against Jayla's shoulder, and her chest rose and fell to some uneven, slow rhythm. Jade, curled at the far end, drew her knees in under her arms and looked up at the screen and both of them now and then.

Daylight no longer beamed strongly but rather spilled orange and gold through the curtains in the last rays of the sun. This cast the room into a warm, hazy light, yet as full of brightness as the room now was to fill it with light, heaviness did not fade.

Jayla shifted a little, moved so Jasmine could lean more comfortably against her. She had no idea how long they'd sat there-it felt like hours-but she didn't mind. It was quiet. Jasmine hadn't said much since her conversation upstairs, and that was okay. Jayla could feel the tension still thrumming beneath her sister's skin, the weight of her experience settling into the spaces between them.

Jade's phone buzzed in her lap. She gave it a cursory glance, but then her gaze would flicker back to Jasmine, torn between staying here and whatever the notification was on her screen. Jayla follows the glance, her eyes tracking the movement. A soft smile flits on her face-the kind of smile that says *it's okay, I got this*.

Jade hesitated, then did a slow rise off the couch lest she rock this very fragile peace between them. She padded silently out of the living room, heart still knotted over Jasmine, but the buzz of her phone reminded her of something else.

Brock.

She leaned against the doorframe, her fingers hovering over the screen as she stared at the phone in her hand. The message blinked at her, waiting for.

"Longing to see you tonight. I will come and pick you up at 7. Hope you're ready for some great art!"

Jade took a slow, deep breath in, pressing her lips together as she glanced at the time: 6.30 p.m. She hadn't forgotten about the exhibition, and it had been hanging at the back of her mind all day. Now that it was here, she was torn. She didn't want to leave her sisters, not after everything that had gone on. Then she thought of Brock- his easy smile, the way his presence was a perceived escape from the heaviness that had surrounded her for days. Maybe what she needed was an escape. She tapped out a quick reply.

I'll be ready.

A shivering overflow of nervousness ran through her; she pocketed her phone and went further into her bedroom.

She stood before the full-length mirror in front of her, returning a stare to that which stared back as she smoothed the fabric of her dress. Deep burgundy silk clung softly to her figure, its neckline swooping across her collarbone in elegance. The hem caressed her knees with light airiness, quietly whooshing with each minute shift in weight. Her fingers fidgeted upon the two small straps laid delicately upon her shoulders as she took it all in.

She leaned in, peering at her make-up: a soft wash of gold over her eyelids, a dark liner that seemed to make the color pop, a berry-tinted gloss on her lips. It was subtle and beautiful, and for a second, she felt the tangle of nerves climb into a flicker of excitement. Tonight, she wanted to be good, wanted to feel *normal* again.

She reached for and hooked up a pair of chandelier earrings off the vanity-small hoops of gold that glittered in the light and danced softly against her skin. She handled them gingerly to put them on and complete the outfit.

She hedged, peering back over her shoulder in the direction of the hall, her mind escaping to Jasmine. Jayla had told her to go-that she and Jasmine would be just fine for the night still... She was worried.

Just then a soft knock came at her door. Jayla slipped inside, her expression soft but encouraging.

"You look marvelous," Jayla said, curling her lips in a smile as she took Jade's outfit in. "The men are gonna have a heart attack when they see you."

Jade smiled faintly, twisting a lock of hair around her finger. "I don't know. I just

"You need this," Jayla said softly, her face inches from Jade's. "We all need to breathe a little. Jasmine's sleeping now, and I am not going anywhere. Just. Go and enjoy yourself. You deserve it."

Slowly, Jade exhaled before nodding. She slung her arms about Jayla and hugged her tight for a moment. "Thanks. I'll check in later."

Before the gallery, Brock's car pulled up; its headlight beams swept across the grand stone façade looming against the evening sky. The building was old, yet timeless, with tall arched windows spilling golden light out onto the night to illuminate the sidewalk. A sleek, black banner above the entrance bore, in bold yet handsome letters, the name of the exhibition: *Reflections in Color*.

Jade emerged from the car. The soft click of her heels against the pavement meshed with the hum of the city. Brock came around the car to meet her, his eyes widening fractionally as he took her in. He was clad in a navy blue suit, the material crisp and sharp. The top button of his shirt was undone-just casual enough to soften the formal lines.

You look, Brock said, pausing as he searched for the word, before grinning. Incredible.

A blush did rise to her cheeks then, his gaze settling on her like a soft breeze. "You're not so bad yourself," she teased lightly, her lips curving over in a smile as she looked at him over.

He offered his arm, and she took it, the two of them moving together toward the entrance.

Once they were inside, it was different. The air vibrated with the murmur of conversation, jazz filtering softly through.

The gallery in and of itself was a beautiful, grand, open space boasting tall, vaulted ceilings and gleaming, polished marble floors underfoot. These walls are lined with works of art- vibrant, abstract, and bursting in riots of color; portraits that seemed to seize a whole life in one stroke of the brush.

The soft, surreal lighting provided was dramatically set for each painting, with its subtle spotlight casting deep, dark shadows.

Sleekly attired guests floated along to the next while hushed tones spoke words of admiration for the works present.

He led her to the first: a huge canvas filled with broad strokes of deep blues and greens, all seeming to swirl together in some stormy sea. He turned to her then, his voice low and warm. "*Untamed Currents*-that's what that one is called," he said, head near enough so only she might hear. "I thought you'd like it.

Jade stared at the painting, letting its weight settle over her. The colors pulsed with energy, raw, harnessed just enough to contain it within the frame. Softly, she nodded slowly. "It's beautiful."

His eyes, in that low light, didn't leave hers, tracing outlines of her face. "So are you," he whispered, voice low, with something deeper inside it coursing a shiver through her.

She turned to him; her breath caught in her throat. An almost charged space seemed to yawn between them as if the energy from the paintings had somehow wound itself into the air, circling them, tugging them closer.

They walked through the gallery together, art weaving in and out of their conversations. Painting seemed to be telling a story, and Brock had this way of drawing her into them, of making colors and brushstrokes feel alive.

His voice was low but animatedly forthcoming, and Jade found herself leaning in, laughing at his observations, feeling lighter with each passing moment.

They finally came to a stop in front of the largest piece, at the very far end of the gallery. Deep purples melted into reds, and streaks of gold threaded through almost like veins of light formed a riot of color across the canvas. Entitled *The Heart of the World*, it felt alive and pulsing, as if with some kind of tangible energy.

He stood close beside her, his hand brushing against hers as they both stared at the painting. "It's my favorite," he whispered low. "It feels like... hope."

Jade's fingers curled slightly, touching the back of his hand. Her heart skipped a beat in her chest, her pulse racing at the heat of his skin against hers. She didn't pull away.

It does, she whispered back, her voice barely audible. Then there had been a feeling of suspended animation, as though they'd been caught between breaths in stillness, and the world was receding.

Slowly, the fingers of one of Brock's hands intertwined with hers-touch light, tentative, yet sure. He turned towards her; his eyes bored into hers, which softly reflected from the lights of the gallery back into his eyes.

There was one moment of nothing but silence except for a quiet hum between them.

The weight in her chest felt lighter than it had in days, Jade would have thought. "Thank you," she whispered. Emotion threaded her voice with a deeper texture than she knew how to name., "For tonight. For... this."

Brock