Then stop. Don’t talk about it.
“I had a rival in art school,” she said instead. “Scott O’Dea. He was insanely talented.”
Angus rotated his wineglass around in a 360 on the spot, watching her. “Should I be jealous? I want to be jealous. Can I be jealous?”
She let out a wry chuckle, even as her chest tightened.I can hear the beach. I can taste my meal. I can smell the candle. I can touch the table. I can see Angus…“He had this annoying habit of coming up behind me in class and watching what I was doing over my shoulder. I hate being watched. I’d freeze up every time he did it, and he knew it.”
Still do.
Angus turned his wineglass again. And again. He hadn’t taken a single sip of its contents since she’d poured it. Not once. Just…played with the stem. “Ah, maybe not jealous. He sounds like a bit of a wanker.”
She bit back her wry grunt. She knew that word, thanks to Owen and his Australian vocabulary lessons.Wankerwas entirely accurate.
“One day, I snapped,” she said, studying her plate. “Told him to stop it. Told him to stick his nose in someone else’s artwork. He apologized. Profusely. And before I knew it, we were somehow friends.”
She still couldn’t remember when the line between rival and friends got blurred, but somewhere before the first year of art school finished, she and Scott were always together. Partnered projects? Elisa and Scott. Group projects? They were always in a group together. He was adamant about it.
She should have seen the red flags, but she hadn’t. She’d trusted him.
Angus shifted on his seat. “Just friends?”
She bit the inside of her lip, a tightness crawling over her scalp. What was she doing? Starting so far back? She could have just told Angus she started her own studio after working with someone and left it at that. Why was she talking about Scott?
Maybe she should change the subject? Whenever the topic of Scott came up—thankfully less and less these days—Elisa would change the subject. Thinking about Scott was a sure-fire way of stirring up her anxiety; like poking a wasp nest with a stick and being surprised when you got stung.
Or if she didn’t change the subject, she’d press fast-forward on the whole ugly, sordid affair and skip straight to theAnd I decided to open my studiopart.
So why wasn’t she now?
Because she wanted Angus to know. So he would understand…her.
No one learns anything from a closed book.
“Friends.” Her voice dropped an octave.
Angus shifted in his seat again.
She moved her dinner around on her plate. She should be eating it. It was too good to let get cold. “He was very open about his admiration for my work,” she said, trying to force herself to sound relaxed. She collected some of her meal onto her fork and put it in her mouth. Chewed. Swallowed. Damn Scott for ruining this. Damn him.
Is he ruining it, or are you?
“Back then I was always doubting it,” she clarified. “Always insecure. But he kept praising me. All the time. By the end of our first year, we were inseparable. Even when working on our separate designs we worked together, bouncing feedback off each other, and sharing ideas.” Sharing ideas. Ha. It had taken her way too long to realise thesharinghadn’t gone both ways. Way too long. “When graduation time came around, Scott and I were talking about starting a graphic design studio together. We weremorethan just friends by then, and it seemed to make sense to do so.”
What an idiot she’d been.
“More than just friends.” Angus let out a low laugh. “See,nowI’m jealous again.”
She looked at him. As crazy as it was, she felt like he was trying to diffuse her tension. Or was she just hoping that was the case?
“Trust me, there’s no need to be jealous.”
He dipped his head in a single nod, not a hint of judgement on his face. “Okay. I won’t be.”
She smiled.
He smiled back. “And you did? Start a business together?”
Let’s make it a partnership, Scott’s whispered words snaked through her head now. Uttered when they’d first had sex. When he’d first entered her.In bed and in business.