#this weekend i was supposed to work on a portfolio but played the entirety of lil guardian instead. oops

[cowboyskeletons]

*insane about media voice* i am normal about media

[illyriantremors]

Beneath the Stars Chapter 7

Chapter: I II III IV V VI

AO3 Linkage

Summary: In an effort to help her dad out with the mounting stack of bills, Feyre gets a job at a local art gallery. Her first day is going well enough when Feyre finds herself caught between texts with Rhys and Tamlin on her lunch break that force her to choose how she'll spend the rest of her afternoon. Things only get more complicated when she finally arrives home to a less than pleasant surprise.

Chapter 7

“So that’s the post-modern gallery,” a crisp, professional voice stated as we stepped down the suspended staircase back to the first floor. “The main showroom is here taking up pretty much the entirety of the bottom floor. We run five different exhibits at a time with one showcase per month - speaking of which, the next one’s in two weeks and you’ll be expected to be present for it. That okay?”

I nodded eagerly. “Absolutely.”

The city’s local art gallery was going to be a tiny bit of a commute two days a week after school and once on weekends, but it was worth it. I was hired on only as a receptionist, but it paid well for a starting gig considering I was still in high school and woefully inexperienced.

Mrs. Weaver had given me the glowing recommendation I’d needed to get the green light. She overheard me mentioning to Amren that I was trying to find some kind of work and pulled me aside after class to say one of her friends from college was running the gallery and needed someone on the phones and emails.

Two weeks later I was in.

I was under a two month probationary period, but it hardly mattered. The gallery was my personal definition of divinity - art at every corner from all different styles and artists with a huge lush terrace off the back that housed a chintzy outdoor cafe restaurant. And the best part was that the gallery also housed a real working in-house studio and once my probationary status was cleared, I was allowed to use it.

I was going to kick so much ass on my AP Studio Art final because of this - as soon as I figured out what in the world I was doing for my project.

Self-portraiture still alluded me. The inspiration just wasn’t there and the clock was starting to tick. Soon I’d be stuck with more than one piece to complete every month and knowing how clean and up to scratch my portfolio would have to be, the pressure felt insurmountable at times.

But the gallery was a breathe of fresh air, the same one I felt every afternoon I spent in class with Amren painting away on our easels. Mrs. Weaver still assigned us projects for her own class and that made the challenge of the exam even greater, but at least it got me painting again and that’s what counted.

Because while I hadn’t told anyone, I really hadn’t painted much over summer. It was too wonderful to taint with the drain I constantly felt pulling at me.

But now - I could feel the juices flowing again a little bit.

I spent most of my first morning learning the computer systems and the overall way the gallery functioned. Being a Saturday, we were fairly busy, but it made time go faster.

Which was good because my phone had buzzed in my pocket about once every five minutes since I clocked in for my shift. Not wanting to make a bad impression on my first day, I refrained from so much as looking at the lock screen until my break, which I filled by drinking one of the cafe smoothies in the garden out back.

When I glanced at my phone, I found about a dozen different text messages from Tamlin.

Fey, I know you’re working, but please call me when you have a minute.

It’s really important.

Please call me, Feyre.

You’re not picking up. I have a Newspaper meeting in twenty. Please call me before if you can, I need to talk to you!

Out of the meeting. Ianthe made final decisions on co-editors. Can we talk?

FEYRE???

And on and on it went. I felt drained just scrolling through it, nevermind replying.

There was a lone text in the middle of all the madness, though, that brought some of the color back to my cheeks.

Good luck today. Knowing you, you’ll knock ‘em dead.

Short. Simple. And the first piece of encouragement I’d received all day. Not even dad had said anything when I jetted out the door exclaiming about first day jitters. I sent a reply text straight away.

And yet somehow, you’re still alive and well.

I shot the text off and received Rhys’s reply not a heartbeat later.

What can I say? I’m hard to get rid of and I like a challenge.

So I’m a challenge, eh?

You’re a lot of things, Feyre, including challenging. And smart. And beautiful. But mostly challenging, particularly when you give me the death glare. I haven’t seen anything quite so terrifying since Cassian cried watching Titanic.

Oh ha-ha, as if you’re so tough. I’ll be sure to throw something at you next time to make my point clear.

As long as it’s not a shoe. Morrigan tells me they’re pointy and painful, or is that only when you wear them?

Care to find out? I’ve got a few pairs I could loan you. Personally I think you’d look ravishing in a set of red leather pumps.

I’d like to point out that you’ve just admitted to me without any prompting of my own that you have a pair of red leather high heels. And I think I’d much rather like to see them on you, Feyre darling.

I snickered aloud and glanced up from my phone to see if anyone could notice the red blooming on my cheeks.

Now who’s scared of a challenge?

Before I could let my phone ping another one of Rhys’s replies at me, I tapped over to my unanswered conversation with Tamlin and let him know I was still alive.

I sipped on my smoothie - a deep purple from the blueberries that were masking the strawberry and banana - and waited, but he didn’t text back. I sent a casual question mark just in case he hadn’t heard the initial message come through on his end and still nothing. Rhysand, however, was relentless.

I’m scared of a great many things, Feyre and you are not one of them. Come over today and I’ll prove it.

My heart slammed into my chest. The little pricks of guilt I’d felt fluttering in the back of my mind whenever I let the flirtation go too far jumped to life inside me with wild enthusiasm. I was debating how best to turn him down when he sent a second message.

Morrigan and I would like to request a recounting of your first day on the job.

I exhaled a deep sigh of relief. Mor would be there and it was just to hang out. Casual. Friends.

I had friends now. Huh.

But… Tamlin still hadn’t texted back and he said it was urgent. One glance at the clock on my phone told me my break was up. Time to decide.

I sent two texts, one to Tamlin apologizing for missing his messages and that I would call him when work was over and a second one to Rhys to say I’d play it by ear, but what was his address - just in case I needed it of course.

Don’t worry about it, I’ll come pick you up.

I’m already driving. Just tell me, unless you’re so scared of the heels in my trunk, you’ve changed your mind?

His address was his immediate reply.

Rhys’s house was another city monstrosity, but it was older and had more charm to it than the more modern constructions I was used to seeing hanging out around Tamlin and Lucien. Just the simple fact alone that he didn’t have a huge golden gate guarding the driveway or that the driveway was in fact just that - a short paved driveway you didn’t have to hike a mile up to climb - were comforting features.

I rang the door and admired the ivy vines scaling the brick facade of the front entryway - bright greens and rich, muddy red colliding in the warm afternoon sun. And then Rhys opened the door in a crisp burnt orange to match. The dark overhang of the patio cast him in a bit of shadow, but he looked lovely, almost enough to paint.

He looked me over and clicked his tongue. “I don’t see any heals, Feyre darling. Color me disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” My eyes flew wide, but I smirked and stepped forward. “Patience is a virtue. Now are you going to let me inside or not?”

“After you, milady,” and he stepped aside so I could pass into the most normal looking house I could have imagined.

For being contained within walls of luxury and certainly size that boasted money to match, Rhys’s house was noticeably cozy. The furniture looked comfortable enough to sink into and put your feet up on, and no single cabinet nor stand screamed You break it, you buy it! at me.

It was lived in - a home.

Rhys led me towards the kitchen to grab us both a drink and I spied Mor sitting one room over at a large oak dining table - and she wasn’t alone.

Azriel’s delicate face sat next to Mor maintaining at least a full seat’s worth of space between them, but I could have sworn by the way their heads leaned toward each other that they were intertwined. Maybe I was just imagining things between them, but…

“So what’ll it be?” Rhys asked opening the fridge while I listened to Az say something long and complicated to Mor. “I’ve got iced tea, coke, water, milk…”

“Iced tea is fine. Are they studying Calculus?”

Rhys nodded, grabbing the pitcher of iced tea from the fridge and two glasses from the cabinet along with some ice.

“I didn’t know Mor was tutoring. That’s nice of her.”

Rhys paused as he poured our drinks to peer up at me from under his eyelashes. “Az is the one tutoring Mor.”

I narrowed my eyes questioning what I’d heard. “But I see Mor in Calculus every week and she’s-”

“Just getting a little extra help. We all need it now and then,” and he handed me my glass, “don’t we?”

“I suppose so,” I said with a little understanding thrown behind it. “And exactly how long has Azriel been tutoring her?”

“Two years,” Rhys said brisk and cool before glancing slyly at me. “And not a word about it from you.” He flicked me on the nose and strode off. “Come on, I’ll give you the tour.”

“Feyre? Feyre!”

Mor pounced on me as she realized I was there. Azriel gave me his usual hello nod and started shuffling papers on the table to put them away.

“I didn’t know you were coming over today, but oh - this is perfect! You can help me with the signs.”

“Signs?”

Rhys chuckled, lowering himself into a chair with a muttered, “Here we go.”

“Of course, signs for the dance, silly!” Mor started explaining all about the initial adverts she wanted to do to promote Starfall (somehow my name had miraculously stuck) to get people more interested in the dance. “The signs the SBC made last year were downright awful and I’m convinced it’s the reason hardly anyone showed up.”

“You’re just a weirdo who likes dancing until three in the morning,” Rhys chimed in. “Most parents prefer their kids home before midnight so it’s no wonder you danced alone last time.”

“I wasn’t alone!” Mor blushed the moment she said it. “Whatever. The point is I want this dance to be special this year. We’re seniors! We deserve to have some fun with it and,” she took my hand and smiled sweetly at me, “you’re a really, really good artist.”

I scoffed.”You haven’t seen my work.”

“But I’d like to! You can show me some time and it’ll be great.”

I didn’t get a chance to reply because the doorbell rang and Cassian came sweeping into the room.

“Holy mother above, Cassian,” Mor stammered. “What is the point of ringing the doorbell if you’re just going to waltz right in? I’ve asked you so many times not to do that.”

“Calm your tits, Morrigan. It’s not like it’s your bedroom I’m walking in to. Last time I visited that particular door, I was quite happy to walk out.”

Mor’s face flushed right as Azriel rounded the corner. Cassian went still as my eyes darted between them and I thought maybe there was something there for a moment, but then Cassian looked at the binders in Az’s hand, made a crack about how boring math was, and grabbed a can of coke from the fridge.

“Come on, let’s get going,” Cassian said as he popped the lid on his can. “I don’t want to waste my entire afternoon at Target staring at scrapbook paper.”

“It’s posterboard we need and that can be found at Staples. You can stare at the multi-color Sharpies while you wait.”

“Ooh, Sharpies…”

Mor rolled her eyes, but even Az had to concede a small tug up of his lips at that one. “Are you coming with us?” he looked at me and asked nervously.

“Oh, well I, um -”

“We’re staying here,” Rhys said sensing my uncertainty, “to get everything else ready for when you get back.”

Cassian looked skeptical. “But we’re the ones getting everything.”

“Food,” Mor said, stepping in front of him with dry humor. “He means, food.”

“Oh right. Medium rare, man.” He and Rhys did a little head nod maneuver and then Cass moved to clap Az on the shoulder as they walked out, Mor hot on their heels. “I’ll see you when we get back!” she sang at me before gliding out the door.

Leaving Rhys and I behind.

In his house.

Alone.

...

“Want the tour?”

“Sure.”

I think it was really just an excuse to talk and fill the air because after he’d shown me the first floor, we ended up in the back yard on the patio and stayed there. I leaned against the railing and sipped more of my tea, enjoying how cool it was against the heat outside.

“So do Mor and Az, like - do they come over for ‘tutoring’ or whatever often?”

“Az tutors, or whatever it is they’re doing, with her twice a week, but Mor lives here, so she’s around all the time. I can’t get rid of her. She’s surprisingly hard to shake off for being so compact.”

“She lives here?”

“Mhm.” Rhys took a long sip of his drink and stared off the railing. His backyard was large, but save for a swimming pool off the deck, there wasn’t much done with it. Elain could have really spruced it up given the chance. “Mor’s family is… a bit of a mess.”

“Your family, then. If she’s your cousin.”

“Heh,” he scoffed. “Yes, well. My family is a mess all around. My aunt and uncle are severely strict and Mor being Mor as you’ve certainly seen is a bit of a free spirit. Her parents live out of state and wanted her to stay home after she graduated - get married, pop babies out and let her new husband continue the cycle. Morrigan had other plans, of course.”

“What happened?”

“She ran away.” He shrugged like it was as normal as buttering toast for breakfast.

“What - just like that? And from out of state?”

He nodded slowly staring darkly into his drink and I wondered just how bad it was, what he wasn’t telling me. “She turned up on our doorstep about two years ago with a suitcase on one arm and a nasty bruise on the other and it was everything I could do to convince dad not to go talk to her parents personally, he was in such a rage about it. I wouldn’t have had such a hard time with him if it hadn’t been for - well,” he paused, swirling the ice around the inside of his glass pensively. “That’s a story for another time.”

He looked up and his lips stretched into a tight rigid smile that I didn’t recognize on him. It was trying too hard and falling far too short.

I hunched my shoulders and offered, “At least with a house this big you don’t have to share a bathroom. Can you imagine waiting on her in the morning just so you could brush your teeth? Though I imagine your bathroom would be cleaner than it probably is.”

Rhys snorted and flipped around to lean against the railing so that we were facing. “Morrigan is definitely not the clean one. I take that title.”

“High Lord of everything, are we?”

“Precisely when did I lose the presidency in exchange for this ‘High Lord’ business?”

I feigned offence, hand on my chest and jaw agape. “Don’t tell me you can dish it out with the nicknames, but can’t take it thrown back at you.” I ticked off on my fingers, “Darling… Milady… Madame Secretary… Arts Chair… I’ve lost count.”

Rhys’s eyes twinkled. A light breeze ran between us rustling the little curls of his hair. He looked so young standing in the wind like that - simple and happy. I hadn’t realized how much older, how serious amid the banter he’d seemed to me until just then.

“Thank you,” I said suddenly.

“For what?”

“I never thanked you properly for coming over and helping my dad and I move. It meant a lot that you came. That someone did. So… thank you.”

He put his violet eyes on me, perplexed. “Of course. I just wanted to help.”

“Well I appreciate it. I… ah, after my sister got home and Tamlin bailed, I -”

My neck tensed sharply, my eyes going wide. Rhysand looked suddenly alarmed. “What happened? Feyre?”

“I’m such an idiot.” The words were a dead, dejected weight coming out of me. My hand flew to my pocket, but my phone wasn’t there. Of course I’d left it in my purse which was sitting inside Rhys’s house on one of the hooks where I’d first walked in. I darted back inside and started rifling through my stuff to find my phone.

“Feyre, what’s wrong?” Rhys said behind me.

“Nothing, nothing - I just forgot. I was supposed to call Tamlin.”

“Then why are you shaking?”

Was I shaking? I didn’t stop long enough to look or decide why.

I found my phone and illuminated the lockscreen, but there weren’t any new notifications from my boyfriend. Since I was the one who was supposed to call him, I didn’t know if this was a good thing or a bad thing. Knowing Tamlin lately, it could be either.

Rhys came to stand next to me and took the phone from me, replacing it with his hand. His skin felt warm and soft. “Are you always this anxious about receiving phone calls? You should have told me. I can go in the other room and call you if you need to get your fix.”

I shoved him playfully and we broke apart. He handed back my phone. “I’m sorry. I told Tamlin I would call him after I ignored about a million and one text messages from him today and then I completely forgot. It’s been forever since I said I’d call.” I shook my head sighing in frustration with myself. “He’s probably going nuts.”

“But you were working and then you were busy obliging my silly cousin so patiently with her art whims. He’ll understand.”

“I’ve hardly done that much, but it’s fine. It’ll be fine. I should go anyway. Dad was a little… interesting when I left this morning and I should check on him.”

“Feyre, is he-”

“Oh he’s fine!” I blurted.

Rhys’s eyes sort of went hazy as they searched me looking for the truth. “You keep saying that word - fine. Are you sure?”

“Yes, absolutely,” and I took his hand, running my thumb over his palm to reassure him. “Thank you for having me over and listening to me babble and for helping me move and the tea - especially the tea. Iced tea is my favorite.”

He chuckled, but not enough to make his eyes twinkle again. Everything about his body language seemed to tighten. “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

Rhys opened the car door for me and when I got inside, I rolled my window down so I could say goodbye.

“Will you tell Mor I’m sorry and that I had to get home? I don’t want her to think I don’t care.”

“She knows you care, Feyre. I’ll tell her,” and finally he gave me that smile leaning down against my door - the cool feline one I hadn’t seen yet that was equal parts arrogant and self-righteous, “but you’ll have to make it up to me for my trouble. She’s going to give me an earful about letting you go when she and Cass and Az get back.”

“Isn’t being your Arts Chair or whatever I am good enough?”

“You are always good enough, Feyre darling. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“You’re a filthy scheming prick,” I said, dishing back the smugness in my stare. “Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.”

Rhys grinned, obviously pleased with my retort and said, “So we’re back to prick again, eh? And here I thought we were making such progress with ‘High Lord.’”

“What can I say? I call it like I see it.”

“Drive safe, Feyre darling.”

“See you tomorrow, prick.”

Rhys pulled back from the car and I took off feeling very at odds with the day. Work had been a successful first attempt and it was nice to have a niche in my life to call my own. Plus, it would help dad out with the house. It wouldn’t be much - but it was something.

And there was this odd quality to being around Rhys and Mor and their whole brood that I found unsettling in the best possible way. I just couldn’t pinpoint what that was. The more time I spent with them, the more I liked it - liked who I was when I was with them.

It was only Tamlin that had me on edge, my fingernails scratching against the fabric on my thigh as I drove. He hadn’t called, hadn’t replied to any of my messages. I’d said I would call. Sometimes when I didn’t call, he thought I didn’t care, didn’t give him enough attention, and he’d get mad at me. Maybe if I offered to come over again tonight, he’d loosen up and talk to me again.

My head ached just thinking about how much I didn’t want to do it.

A familiar vehicle was sitting in my driveway when I got home that immediately amplified the amount of sweat coming off me. I looked at the front window of the house and saw two figures talking. They weren’t shouting since I couldn’t hear them, but they were definitely having a heated discussion because the hand gestures were flying everywhere. The scratching on my thigh increased.

The car really was there which meant she was too. I opened the front door and found her eyes searing into me as I surveyed the scene taking up my living room. The one she apparently was causing that set my teeth on edge.

Only her.

Nesta.

xx