Everett closed the door. Without specific instruction, Bill Watts told him to take care of Cyan. A tedious decorum would pace a meal into courses. No TV. No merriment. With etiquette and Bill Watts's glances, eating would be a laborious task.
"Is this your room?" Cyan twirled before the silken black bed. "It's bigger than my whole house. Oh well, if that's the library, this is justified."
"You can shower in there." Everett stretched his arm to show the way.
"You're kidding." Cyan wrinkled her nose. "In your bathroom?"
"Why not?"
"It's yours." She turned away. "There must be hundreds of bathrooms in this palace. I'm not going to go in there and shower in front of you." A gasp escaped her. "I mean..."
The heat spread on Everett's face. "Who says I'll watch?"
"That's not what I meant," Cyan gabbled. "I mean... I wasn't trying to say... What I meant was you're right here, and I shouldn't..."
"Cyan, it's okay. I'm not trying anything, but my brothers can be troublesome. This is the only room they won't invade." Any other room would be pointless, and Everett's was the safest unless Cyan looked under his mattress. "I won't be in here. You can trust me. I'll be back with something for you to wear." Everett knew his limits.
As Everett slipped out of the door, three pairs of reddish eyes fixed on him like red dot sights. He laughed, toying with his brothers' jealousies. For Will, Simon, and Luke, Cyan was a game, something to show off, another girl to conquer, and a goodbye kiss in the next morning. But this wasn't a game anymore, so Everett needed to have a serious talk with his brothers soon.
"You're predictable." Simon tossed a mass of red fabric on Everett's face.
***
That flare dress fitted Cyan as though it had always been hers. Everett caught his chest, staring at the damped hair that fell around her naked shoulders. "You look stunning." He stood on a brim, minding his tone. Cyan easily tensed when Everett complimented her.
"Thank you." Cyan rubbed her arms nevertheless.
"Oh, here, Luke said you might want them." Everett lifted a box of beauty products to his chest.
Although Cyan used a little eyeliner and lip balm, she was beautiful with no enhancement. Usually, shyness blushed her cheeks, and petulance tinted her lips. But Cyan Cooper, from Everett's observation, could be a knight and a goddess at once. She fearlessly stared at death and contentedly floated in an elegant dress like this. Cyan had all the colors but Everett just one.
"Sweet." Cyan settled on the edge of the bed and rummaged in the box. "So, whose dress this is?" she asked passively.
Everett inched to Cyan when she picked and glossed a peach lipstick over her lips.
"My mother's."
Cyan lifted her face, the lipstick falling on the black linen. "Oh, Everett, I shouldn't. It's—"
"It's perfect." Everett edged closer to the bed.
Cyan sprang to her feet, fidgeting a red strap on her shoulder. "This is too weird."
"There're many dresses like this in boxes, Cyan. She had never worn this one, so it's not weird." Everett's palm met the warmth of Cyan's shoulder. "The make-ups, by the way, are all Luke's."
"You're funny." Cyan flinched and flopped on the bed again. "Be serious. Were they hers, too?" She smoothed the red chiffon while the ocean in her eyes rippled.
Luke was patient enough to dig for usable products in boxes that usually brought on his tears. For a moment, Everett wondered what their mother would think of Cyan. Would Mary adore this precious girl as much as she loved Rosalind Watts? Would she care about David's painting as much as the one in the library? Did Mary believe that David deserved something so beautiful?
Despite the invincibility, Cyan seemed breakable, and Everett had never been so tempted to break someone. He bent down through the scent that drove him wild and flatted his thumb on her lips. Her breath steamed his finger as he wiped the peach gloss off her skin in one stroke. His heart inflamed, pumping the undying fire throughout his body.
"It's doesn't matter. You don't need them." Everett exhaled and straightened his spine. He should have devoured that rosy lips right then, but a coward pulled him away. The echo of her throbbing lips pricked on his thumb. Cyan had to realize how flirtatious of her to be sitting on a man's bed. Had she read Everett's mind, she would be terrified.
Everett filled his lungs with another deep breath and fell back. "Simon is right. The dress suits you."
***
Angelica had intense green eyes, and her gaze meant to yield x-ray reports. Currently, sitting between Everett and Simon, she stared at Cyan. "I heard you study biochemistry," she said. "Such a smart girl. Is it true that people can design babies now?" Angelica's gaze had always been sharp, but her gibbering remained hazy.
Cyan nodded and quitted rearranging strawberries around the salad. "Theoretically, yes, but the technologies require versatile and careful debates. Genome editing in humans won't be routinely accessible soon." She kept her fork down.
Fruits in savory greens was an acquired combination, but when strawberries were on the table, it meant Everett did something right.
Angelica tapped her lips with black silk. "What do you think, Bill? Should humans sketch themselves?"
Sketch? Everett eyed Will, Simon, and Luke. The Watts boys had a mission to disrupt any conversation that would lead someone to mention David.
"Oh, you know how I hate to argue with believers. Cyan here always has a politically correct way to handle them. We may not be able to create superhumans in our lifetime, but surely, Cyan can customize brilliant horses."
"So that is your plan for this adorable scientist," Angelica said.
Everett wished Angelica was right. Bill Watts could be interested in Cyan's intellect.
"It's up to you, my girl, because you have many gifts," Bill Watts said to Cyan.
That word gifts made Cyan swallow and turn to Everett. He nodded to reassure that he would protect her secret.
"Modifying the offspring is one thing," said Angelica. "I wonder if you can change the existing ones."
"Are we talking about humans or horses?" Simon frowned.
"Lukas, what about that gene therapy trial you told Garrison?" Bill Watts asked.
"Gene editing is targeting inherited diseases," Luke said, smiling at Cyan, "like Hunter Syndrome."
"Hunter Syndrome?" Angelica cried out. "What is that? It sounds dangerous."
"It's a rare disorder that causes sugar to build up in the patient's organs," Luke replied.
Will chuckled, but that sickness should concern him the most.
"Which leads to development delay and brain damage," Cyan added, and Will gulped.
"Manipulating the genomes usually starts at the embryo stage. But if you are talking about changing the adults, that's Cyan's thing." Luke winked.
Everett cleared his throat with a glass of white wine. The conversation was not only boring but annoying now. How much had Cyan and the little brat hung out?
"What would you change about me?" Will smirked at Cyan.
Cyan glanced around the table. "You're already perfect. You all are." Her eyes came back to Will, and he twisted to scratch his back.
Hygiene, Everett thought and scoffed.
"You can be ruthless," Bill Watts said to Cyan. "Tell me what can be done to these arrogant boys."
"Or to me," Angelica said.
"All of you are putting her on the spot." Everett leaned back. "She is nervous." He wanted to cloak Cyan's arms with his blazer. The Watts family's dinner was traumatizing her.
"Everett has no soul." Will sneered. "How do you fix that?" He chuckled.
"Genetic engineering is about inserting, deleting, replacing, modifying—manipulating." Cyan beamed at Everett. "Missing something can be beneficial."
***
The green book rested on the chiffon of Cyan's lap while Everett's blazer held her comfortably. Everett never cared about science, and neither did Bill Watts. The Watts library was like Dawn Cathedral—grand but never meant for its supposed purpose.
"I like your new truck," Cyan said.
The rushing of the streetlights illuminated Cyan's face. It was the kind of beauty Everett had never noticed before, of both Colt and Cyan. The road that he had raced on, torn apart, and disregarded now glimmered in the serene darkness.
"Hector made it." Everett wondered if Hector knew about David's living painting, this allure, this rain, this little piece that had been missing from Colt.
"But he's in the military."
"Hobby." Everett smirked. Hector knew the engines as he understood machineguns. Everett had always admired Hector's crafts, but the most impressive one was David's.
"Four of you don't talk about him much. Actually, you have five brothers, right?"
A thick lump of air stuck in Everett's throat. Hector's dominating blue eyes and David's hair-covered face took over his thought.
"Yes, we're a big family." Everett's foot pushed harder on the gas pedal.
"Nobody mentioned the other one at all. What about him?"
The question was right on point. How could Everett avoid it now?
I'm David. I really am. I'm him. I'm David. How could Everett have said it even in a fantasy?
"Oh, Van Gogh," Everett said.
"Van Gogh?"
"Yes, he's an artist—a painter. H—he lives in Hollywood." That was all Everett could offer. Why did Cyan dream that name? On top of that, Everett was the one who spelled it.
"He... the artist. Is he coming back to Colt, too?" Cyan was a curious child, David a Pandora's Box. Everett should have said that the lunatic was dead.
"No, he's not. He hasn't been back for many years now." Everett had to end the topic. Talking about David made his stomach twist. "Cyan, about Cape Cod." He switched the subject. "I'm serious, you know."
"Why?" Cyan peered at the book, her fingers stroking the cover.
"I think it'll help you find some answers," Everett said.
"I don't know. Intrigued, but it's far." Cyan crossed her arms and squeezed them tight.
Nervous.
"I have a jet." Everett waggled his brows.
"Hah, how practical!" Cyan leaned back and rolled her eyes. "But forget it. I don't think it's important to me anymore."
"We can go tomorrow." Urgency aroused temptation. "It can be a one-day trip. The Board wouldn't kill its favorite student for skipping lectures."
"Wow." Cyan stared at the darkness in the window. "You can be very persuasive, you know. As much as I would love to sit on the private jet, I don't think it's a good idea." She paused, measuring something in her head. "My dad wouldn't mind for sure." She turned to Everett with a grin. "And he might like the idea of me using my rich friend to put my study at risk." Cyan giggled. And when the merriment faded, she inspected the red dress. "I had a wonderful night. Thanks again for the dress." She shrank in the seat.
"You're welcome, and you can keep it, by the way." Everett tightened frustration around the steering wheel. He wanted that getaway, and he needed Cyan there with him.
"I can't." Cyan adjusted Everett's blazer around her chest. "I'll have it dry-cleaned and sent back. It's not right for me to keep it."
"And what should Simon do with it? I don't think it's his size."
The tension disappeared in laughter. Cyan had another gift, a trick to turn little things into great joy. Her feelings escaped her; she could exist without shouting.
"Be honest. How many pretty dresses are there in your room?" Cyan was reading Everett for real.
Everett's grips softened around the steering wheel. The answer could never come out right. "Many." Everett found a mystical part of himself was afraid of consequences. His past repulsed him than David did.
"I won't judge you," Cyan whimpered and looked out the window again. "I told you before. You should do what makes you happy." But her tone changed, drifting far away.
"There hasn't been anyone for a while now. You should know that." There was no explanation. Everett had too many dresses in his room, broken too many hearts, and ruined my lives. Perhaps he really had no soul.
***
The black GMC merged into the night of a quiet street. Everett, battered and defeated, walked Cyan to the door. "Are you sure that you can be alone? If you want, I can stay."
Cyan wriggled out of Everett's blazer and cuddled the book. "I'll be fine. Thanks."
"I can take the couch. The blue one looks cozy."
John told Everett that Cyan had never been on a real date. Was there no boy outside Colt?
"Thanks for the ride." Cyan caught a doorknob. "And good night."
Everett huffed, and the door squeaked open. Cyan floated in a midnight dream. The emptiness frustrated Everett's chest.
"Hey." He grabbed Cyan's arm. "I know you think we're friends, but I can't anymore. I—"
Cyan's pout planted on Everett's lips as the book slammed his ribs. The clash knocked his grip off her arm. The air was still or perhaps lost. Her face came at him with all haste that he stumbled backward. His knees wobbled, and his chest sank. She seized him for a few seconds before releasing him like a gasp. The sensation was incoherent and frail, but drained him completely.
Regressing, Cyan covered her lips with the book. "Good night again." Over the edge of the green cover, her eyes sparkled like moon glitters on Lake Rosalind.
"Good night," Everett said back, shocked and stiff.
***
One hour past midnight, Everett dragged his feet up the stairs, feeling sick and embarrassed.
"Again?" Everett cried out, for Will, Simon, and Luke had camped in front of his bedroom door, reeking of whiskey. "I don't have time for this. I'm going to sleep."
Everett was exhausted because he had fought with himself the entire ride back to the mansion. He was pathetic and frigid in that kiss, standing there like a disappointing old tree when Cyan kissed him.
"Wait!" Will said, but his voice wasn't murderous. "You need to see something."
Everett rolled his eyes, but Little Bill Watts looked more worried than angry. Simon's expression was vague, too, and Luke seemed disturbed. Everett wondered which bottle gave the Watts boys these odd effects.
But while Everett drove Cyan home, the other Watts boys kept themselves busy and broke into David's room. Spurred by some mysterious audacity, they took something out of the forbidden vault. The item was now behind the next door.
On the foot of Luke's bed set a life-size portrait. Everett's heart dropped to his feet. The painting was a girl sleeping on a small white bed. Cyan had returned to the Watts Mansion, lying on the canvas with closed eyes and relaxed limbs. On her pale body: Simon Watts's hand-picked red dress.