Page 134 of Top Shelf

“Aisle 18,” he says, pointing it out before moving in that direction.

We follow him up the aisle, passing tins of varnish and tubes of superglue. I slow as shelves are replaced with rows and rows of color.

Soft sage greens.

Dusty blues.

Warm creams.

Deep jewel tones.

Muted terracottas.

Each paint sample card feels alive with possibility.

I don’t even realize I’ve stopped moving until my gaze catches on a rich, muted green somewhere between emerald and eucalyptus. It’s not too bright, but not too dark either. There’s a beautiful warmth to it, almost as though the color itself is alive.

Without thinking, I reach out and pull the sample card free. The tiny rectangle sits cool against my fingertips as something strange twists low in my chest.

I can suddenly picture it. That color spread across the wall behind my couch. Some plants growing in oversized pots near the windows. Paired with some warm mood lighting and books stacked haphazardly across the shelves, I could almost see my apartment as a…home.

Not just an apartment that my mother decorated without any care for my likes or comfort.

My old place at BSU comes to mind. That apartment had bright, mismatched furniture I found at thrift stores and yard sales. Walls painted ridiculous colors. Crooked gallery walls full of random art prints and concert posters.

Despite the guys suggesting I decorate, I haven’t wanted to do that here. Haven’t wanted to consider this place home. Not when I was brought here against my will. However, thelonger I stare at the sample card in my hand, the more I realize that somewhere along the way, I stopped not wanting to be here.

I’d go so far as to say I’ve actually started enjoying being at Valehurst.

My classes are challenging and engaging. People are starting to respect me and see me for my worth at my internship. And while I haven’t made any real friends, I do have the guys and the other players on the team with whom I get along easily.

“Found something?”

Ronan’s voice breaks through my thoughts.

I glance over to find all three of them have backtracked to see where I disappeared to. I notice he’s holding a box of replacement screws, so he must have found what he was looking for to fix the coffee table.

Ronan’s gaze flicks toward the color card in my hand before returning to my face. “That color is very you.”

Something about the simple certainty in his voice makes my chest ache unexpectedly.

“Mhm,” I respond noncommittally.

I look back toward the wall of colors.

Plucking the sample card from between my fingers, Lucian studies it for half a second before nodding decisively. “Yeah. That’s very Little Moth.”

Much better than all that white, Silas writes for everyone to see.

“Anything would be better than the white,” Lucian agrees, looking disgusted.

“What room were you thinking of it for?” Ronan asks, taking the sample card from Lucian and holding it up.

“Oh,” I start, trying to pull the card out of his tight grip. “I wasn’t thinking of it for anything; I was just looking.”

Lucian scoffs. “Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, baby. Youwere staring at it in a daze for the last five minutes, so you were clearly picturing it somewhere.”

Rolling my eyes, I admit, “The living room.”