Request: Feysand modern au angst - đź‘‹ hi, love your writing x could you write a feysand modern jealousy fic where Rhys/feyre thinks the other is flirting with someone else - thank you so much - sorry this is weird I'm just a slut for angst

A/N: written for the tumblr anon request above (also i am a slut for angst as well) :) it took me a while to complete this request as i'm really busy with school! I REALLY hope people enjoy it even though it's not perfect! I had a lot of fun writing this and building a backstory for it - Also it's nearly 6,000 words, so hold on to your hats!

I don't want to spoil anything (HELION), so please read and feel free to give me your thoughts (or submit prompts at oyasumi-wyrds) - i'm debating writing a second part depending on interest. :) please favorite/review if you enjoyed, and thanks for reading!~

I was the first to enter the classroom.

It was 7:40AM on the first day of classes, and the hallways were already filled with students and professors as they made their way to their destinations. I had just breezed past two people, students I assumed, who were hovering in the hallway near my classroom.

I was practicing an introduction in my head, just in case, Hi, my name is Feyre Archeron and…

And what? I wondered if I should mention my age… or my preference for paints…

Caught up in my own thoughts and believing that other students had already entered the classroom, I just waltzed right in.

And slowly stopped in my tracks because… I was the first. And the classroom was completely empty. Whirling around, my eyes caught on the nondescript black clock above the door.

7:41AM.

I knew I was early since class began at 8AM sharp, but… I had passed students and professors on my walk here. Well, since I was already here, I might as well choose my seat.

My eyes roved over the classroom, and while shrugging my backpack off, I picked my way over to an easel stationed on the western side of the classroom.

Just before I reached the easel and stool, two students sauntered in – the same two that I had breezed past just outside the classroom. They quickly surveyed the room and selected a seat, just as I had.

The female student was beautiful; she had warm brown eyes, and her long, blonde hair was braided and fell down the center of her back. She had chosen to sit at an easel nearby, but closer to the door.

The woman eventually looked up and caught my gaze, and I narrowed my eyes at her.

Her brown eyes remained impassive as she just shrugged her narrow shoulders, her floor-length sundress rustling along the tiled floor, and gave me a small, guilty smile. Sorry.

Hmm. She didn't look wholly repentant. They had purposely waited for someone else to enter the classroom first, but why…?

"The first always gets noticed." The other student answered my unspoken question.

What does that mean? My eyes snapped to where he was seated across from me on the eastern side – in a chair with a drawing pad on his lap, twirling a pencil between his fingers.

Now that I really looked, I noticed he was also very good-looking, even with the hood shadowing parts of his face. He was dressed more simply than the female student, and I wondered if they were together. He wore a slate-colored, cowl neck sweatshirt, slim-cut black pants, and black combat boots.

I tilted my head, confused, but he didn't seem inclined to say anything more. As I assessed him, I couldn't tell whether he was an ally or a foe; his expression was mild but unreadable, although my predator's instinct warned me that I was likely facing another predator.

However, his slumped position in the chair seemed relaxed enough, with both legs sticking out in front of him. I had no idea what to say or whether to ask him what he meant, but I figured, perhaps I would find out soon enough. So I ducked my head behind my easel and continued setting up my things.

After all, we were in the advanced introductory drawing class at a prestigious art university, the Velaris School of Design. Months after submitting my application and portfolio on a whim, I received a heavy, cream-colored envelope containing my acceptance letter as well as other important documents, including a course schedule. A note clipped to the schedule stated that I had been placed into a more advanced drawing class, but I had been more than thrilled that I had been accepted into the university at all.

When I'd opened the letter, Elain had been home tending to the garden but when she heard me screaming, she ran into the house and screamed with me. Then we called Nesta, who surprisingly picked up on the first ring.

"I had a feeling it was good news," Nesta declared after I finished speaking, and then she added, "Congratulations, Feyre. You deserve it."

She had sounded happy for me, proud, even. It was rare for Nesta, the coldest of us three, to show feeling, so her praise meant a lot to me.

I was shaken from my reverie by the sound of students gradually filing into the room, some in pairs and trios, and others streaming in alone. I fiddled with the arrangement of my pencils and graphite sticks, glad I had gotten here early so that I had a chance to observe my fellow classmates.

As I cast a wandering gaze around the room, I could easily identify which students had money, and which didn't. Nobody noticed me, and nobody bothered to introduce themselves but I was happy to keep to myself.

I also noted that there weren't enough easels, so students who filed in later would only have the choice to sketch on chairs loosely arrayed around the podium. Or stand.

Sounds of students chattering and chairs sliding filled the room; the familiar sounds of art tools clattering was both comforting and nerve-wracking at the same time. Sunlight streamed in overhead through narrow, horizontal windows on the northern wall and panes of long, vertical windows on the eastern wall of the room.

I glanced at the clock again; there were still 5 more minutes before class started.

I tried to look preoccupied with the materials I had laid out, and my mind wandered again...

It had been years since Hybern's War, and luckily, my family and I had made it out alive – well, me, my two older sisters Nesta and Elain, and my father. My mother had died of disease during the early years of the war, but before she passed, she had made me promise to take care of our family.

I always wondered why she didn't ask Nesta, or Elaine…

But I promised her. I said yes, and… I'd learn to provide for my sisters and my father, on my own. Alone. I hunted and killed, did things I wasn't proud of…

As the war raged endlessly, the borders and lands of Prythian had been bent and disrupted, including our hometown. We lost our home, but saved our most precious family valuables along with whatever we could. It was many years before the war ended, but afterwards, the country slowly rebuilt and reknit itself because the High Courts of Prythian all united for the cause of rebuilding our war-torn lands.

As the war was winding down, my father took advantage of society's momentary lapse in maintaining law and order, and he slowly began to rebuild some of his prior fortune. The money he slowly accumulated was just a fraction of the prior wealth we had all known, but it was more than we had had in a long, long while.

I still remembered and resented my father had been a lifeless husk, useless after his wife, our mother, had passed into the void…

However, even though it took a while, he saved enough money to eventually move us to Velaris, the City of Starlight. The city had been closed off for hundreds of years, but after the war, the High Lord of the Night Court had welcomed all those who wished to seek refuge.

Moving us to Velaris was perhaps the best thing our father had ever done for us. Within a year and a half, Elaine had met and married well to a serious but kind man named Graysen Tolliver. And Nesta was off doing, well, whatever it was that Nesta did – within a few months, she had quickly enrolled at a university in Velaris that focused on literature and knowledge.

But now I was here, in this classroom. It wasn't the time to be thinking about the past.

Better to be grateful for what I had now, and the future.

I took a swig from my water bottle to try and clear my mind, noticing that the students near the door were starting to shift nervously and whisper in a hush. My eyes snapped to the focus of their attention – a woman now sweeping into the room, who I assumed was our art professor.

Her bright red hair was streaked with thick strands of white, lending evidence to her older age. I noticed her eyes next, which were ice-blue and hawk-like, as if she could simply see right through you. She wore a long, slim, navy-blue gown with pearls dotting her ears and silver bangles on her wrists.

Briskly, she stepped onto the podium with a no-nonsense demeanor. She commanded most of the room's presence, as the students around me silenced near instantly.

I didn't know too much about our art professor, only that she was renowned for her skills and that many lords and ladies often commissioned incredible works from her. So perhaps, it was to be expected that the fire-haired artist would feel so intimidating to students in an introductory art course.

I took a moment to relish in that thought – finally, finally I had the luxury of taking art courses, of honing artistic skills beyond my penchant for painting. I had worked hard, fought hard for my family, and now I finally had the chance to do something for myself. To attend university, and pursue art…

The professor stood on the podium. Clasping her hands behind her back, she cleared her throat. Every single pair of eyes in the classroom was already on her.

Her hawk-eyes were initially trained on the door, but eventually her penetrating stare roved around the room. "Well, it seems like most of us are here. Welcome, students. My name is Anaxandra Agnes. I do not want to waste precious class time with too many words, so I will assume you have all perused the syllabus before you stepped over the threshold. If not, there are copies of the syllabus on the table in the back."

She gestured towards the stack of syllabi with one hand, and some students turned to look towards where she pointed. Then she clasped her hands behind her back again.

Professor Anaxandra Agnes began pacing slowly in a circle. "For today's class, you will be showing me what you can do. If you are serious about art but cannot handle the pressure or expected to get an easy grade, you should probably leave now."

She paused, and the whole room held their breath, collectively wondering if anyone would leave.

Instead, the door creaked open, and the whole room directed their attention to the tall, dark-haired man that slipped into the room, wearing an impeccably cut black tunic and pants. I craned my neck and watched as he immediately slunk off to a corner, seeing all of the eyes upon him.

Nobody got up to leave, so Professor Agnes continued. "I also don't tolerate tardiness" – she turned and looked pointedly at the male who had just entered – "and contrary to popular belief, there is such thing as stupid questions."

"My apologies, Professor. Prior engagements ensnared me." The gentleman in the corner sketched a bow. I was surprised to hear that he sounded confident and that his voice was rich and deep, like red wine.

Recognition crossed her face, and to everyone's surprise, the professor huffed a sigh and placed a hand on her hip. "Oh, Rhysand. You know I don't like to make exceptions, either.

Even though I could barely see him, I was willing to bet money that the tall man – Rhysand? – was smirking.

Professor Agnes cleared her throat. "Now, let me introduce you to our model for today. You will be sketching him during the first half of class, and I will be walking around and observing. I'll also be using your drawings as teaching examples in the later half. So please, do your very best." She stopped pacing and looked towards the door again.

"Helion, if you please." The red-haired professor called towards the door and waited.

Not a minute passed before Helion strode in, wearing nothing save for a white towel wrapped around his waist. Some of the female students began talking in hushed whispers, while several male students shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

Helion was gorgeous, possibly the most beautiful man I had ever seen. His powerful muscles rippled as he walked, his skin was a sun-kissed brown that reflected the sun's rays, and his onyx hair was wound in tight curls. He walked up to the podium and surveyed the room.

For some reason, Helion's watchful, amber eyes caught mine, and I willed herself not to look away. He winked slyly, and I swore I heard a chorus of quiet sighs ripple throughout the room.

Meanwhile, I was willing the blush not to creep up my face any further. I ducked behind the easel, both to hide my flushed face and to avoid some of the women shooting daggers at me with their eyes. I thanked the Cauldron that I had gotten here early so that I could hide behind the easel, because when I peeked back at the podium, I felt another pair of eyes staring at me from across the room.

I willed myself to get it together; I would have to stare at Helion, our model, for like the next hour or so anyway, to capture him on paper… So I'd better get it together.

The professor continued explaining what to expect from our two hour block, and eventually we began sketching.

Sometime between now and then, Helion had lost the towel and was now posing completely nude. I coughed behind my hand and heard several others do the same.

Smirking inwardly, I refocused my attention on him.

Helion sat on the stool, his feet planted firmly on the ground. His left elbow rested on his left knee, and he rested his head in his hand. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, I could not see his... equipment below the waist very well. He locked his lofty gaze in our general direction.

I did a quick sketch of his general pose first, observing the contours and lines of his body, memorizing all the places where shadows struck and light danced…

I wondered if it was a sin to be so beautiful, or if there were some price to pay… Surely no one could get away with walking around and looking like that? What if he were devastatingly handsome but also pathetically stupid?

I scolded myself for thinking so pettily and focused on my sketchbook; I wanted to prove myself, wanted to show everyone what a nobody could do, show everyone what my dreams and passions and struggles had taught me…

So I threw myself into capturing Helion. I drank up every detail, seared his image into my brain, and reimagined him onto the sheet in front of me.

Helion had a square chin and prominent cheekbones; there were deep, expressive lines on his face, although I would be hard-pressed to capture his unfathomable expression at the moment. His eyes were a lovely amber gold, like honey dripping from a honeycomb. My attention drifted to his scar-flecked hand and then to other scars on his body. I absentmindedly wondered how he'd gotten them, how he'd gotten so many…

I blocked out everything around me, ignored the wandering eyes of my peers as they tired of their own creations and looked around for a respite, or perhaps for inspiration…

My only inspiration would be Helion. He was enough. His skin glowed effortlessly as the sun continued rising up over the east. Seated in the chair, his pose cast dancing shadows, and I labored as the shadows moved with the sun…

I sketched and drew and redrew, until my arms ached.

Finally, it was over. Class was a complete whirlwind, and before I knew it, I was packing up my supplies to leave. Students were already hustling out the door, heading to their next class or some other engagement.

My mind drifted back to what the male student had said at the beginning of class… What was it again? The first always gets noticed.

The professor had, indeed, recognized me. Well, not at first… eventually.

As we all diligently worked on our drawings, Professor Agnes had strolled purposefully around the room, observing students as they labored and occasionally making insightful comments to most of the students.

I had been dreading the moment she would approach my work to assess my poor sketch of Helion with her calculating gaze, with eyes that had seen thousands upon thousands of artworks, possibly some of the greatest works known to mankind…

I tried to shake off the feeling of intimidation, immersing myself in my work as sweat gathered on the nape of my neck and the sun beat down on my brow. I sensed her pause behind me at some point, but she didn't make any remarks to me.

After the timer went off, Professor Agnes rounded the room again. This time, she stopped to assess every work she had skipped over before on her previous rounds.

Finally, she stopped to appreciate my mostly completed sketch of Helion. She stared at it for a long while, and I couldn't read anything past the cold, analytical expression in her blue eyes.

She clucked her tongue, and I braced myself as she opened her mouth to speak – "I surmise that you frequently work with paints. Even so, this work shows your potential." She nodded approvingly at my attempt to capture Helion's radiant skin and the complex array of shadows and light that danced across his posed figure.

"Thank you, Professor," I replied gratefully, and then added, "I'm… Feyre. Feyre Archeron."

She surveyed me with those frost-blue eyes, like staring at an iceberg. But she didn't seem cold in her demeanor, she seemed… approving. "Keep up the effort, Feyre."

I nodded and stepped back to allow her to walk over to the last few students she hadn't made comments to. Letting out a quiet sigh, I glowed with the praise and tried to ignore the eye-rolls of eavesdropping students around me.

I overheard a few others who received similar comments, but for the most part, she was methodical and objective in her criticism. But never harsh.

Most students had already left the classroom, and I moved towards the door with a wrinkled, folded map in my hand, ready to figure out where my next class was in this sprawling building.

Helion was standing in the hallway near the door still, talking to someone it seemed like… I was surprised to see him, what was he still doing here? I assumed he wasn't just a model with a little too much time on his hands.

He glanced towards the door just as I was walking through, and I tried to keep the expression on my face neutral, casual, even though my heart skipped a beat.

"Feyre?" His voice was deep, lilting. I nearly stumbled, hearing my name fall from his lips. How did he know…?

"Uh… Yes?" I replied hesitantly as I paused in my steps. My eyes flickered over his shoulder to students milling in the hallway, but I didn't catch who he might have been speaking to.

"I overheard your name, in class. I was wondering if you might want to grab a coffee with me later. After your classes are over, of course." Helion's voice was rich and lightly accented, but it was unlike the Velaris accent I had grown accustomed to after living here.

"Coffee?" My attention snapped back to his amber eyes as I tried to glean his intentions.

After all, I was a nobody. I didn't know anybody at this school, and I had lived in Velaris for less than two years. And, I certainly didn't know anyone who looked like Helion.

Helion bowed his head slightly and held out a large, tanned hand. His eyes met mine and he smiled slightly. "I apologize for my rudeness; I should have introduced myself. My name is Helion Cleavar. It's nice to make your acquaintance."

I reached for his hand automatically and shook it. "Feyre… Archeron. It's nice to meet you, but… maybe you've got the wrong person?"

"Feyre." His voice was practically a purr as he rolled the end of my first name. I swore I heard someone cough in distaste from behind me. "Do you drink coffee? I've never seen you around, so I figured you were new. Maybe I can show you this lovely café nearby."

"Oh, umm… Sure, I guess," I stammered slightly. Helion's dark, thick eyebrows raised in delight.

Well… I mean, what else would I have said instead? I suppose I could have simply said no but… Coffee was necessary, and I did need to eat eventually. And who said no to somebody who looked like Helion?!

Plus… he had known that I hardly knew anyone here, suspected that I was new to Velaris. So… perhaps I was a little curious to see where this game led, although I hated that I wasn't in on the rules. Or that I didn't know who all the players were. But I intended to find out.

Helion and I exchanged phone numbers, and I headed off to my next class, which I was glad was only an hour instead of two.

My second class of the day passed much more uneventfully than the first, to my wary relief. After class ended, Helion texted me the address of the café, and I ambled over.

It was a beautiful Autumn day in Velaris and unseasonably warm. The leaves on the trees were slowly turning color, lovely and brilliant hues of reds and oranges splashing across the bright blue sky. Puffy, white clouds lazed low across the sky as the sun voyaged across.

True to Helion's word, the café was a short walk away. It was near campus, but in a more upscale part of the city. The café was beautiful from the front, with lovely, blue sloping canopies and large, open windows where I could see all of the round tables and the customers and employees.

Café Valeria was neatly etched onto one of the windows, with a menu tacked underneath. I'd never been to this café before because it was relatively expensive; although I love coffee, I'd rather save money for art supplies. But the inside of the café looked so warm and inviting, I figured it couldn't hurt to splurge once in a while, right? I had some money left over from a part-time job I had worked after we moved, but not much…

Helion arrived while I was still outside looking in, lost in my own thoughts.

"Cold feet, already?" Helion's voice was light, teasing, and I turned to see him smiling dazzlingly, like the sun.

I decided to answer with my own brilliant smile, to show that I wasn't intimidated by his radiance – although I was. A little bit.

"I've never been here before. I was just… I like to watch people." I admitted. I moved towards the door, but Helion beat me to it.

He opened the door and waved an arm at me. "After you, Feyre, love."

Feyre, love? My mind went blank at how casually he dropped the term of endearment.

Helion was smirking, but it was almost as if he were laughing at a private joke. But I brushed it off and walked past him into the shop towards the counter where customers were ordering.

He fell into step behind me and started recommended things that were good on the menu. After deliberating for a few minutes, I chose a hot cappuccino and a sandwich he recommended. He simply ordered an espresso.

"You're not going to eat?" I questioned, raising my eyebrows.

He shook his head. "No, I'm not terribly hungry at the moment. Come, this way."

Shrugging, I followed him as he led us to a table tucked by the wall. Our coffees and food were brought to us by a waiter, who folded in a bow and disappeared as soon as we told him that we didn't need anything else.

Idly, Helion and I somewhat awkwardly made small talk. He seemed to be anticipating something, but I didn't know what, so I simply waited for him to… bring it up maybe?

Finally, I heard a slightly familiar voice.

"There you are. I've been looking for you."

I turned to see the man that had entered class late, the one dressed in the rich, dark tunic and pants. He looked to be slightly younger than Helion, perhaps in his late-twenties, and I could hear the Velaris accent in his speech.

But he wasn't speaking to me, and he sounded slightly irritated. He was speaking to Helion, who barely gave him a cursory glance. "I'm busy, Rhys."

"I can see that," the man – Rhysand, was it? – drawled, with a lethal quiet. He plucked a stray thread from the breast of his jacket and brushed off invisible specks of dust. "But we need to attend to business."

Helion's amber eyes rolled, and he gave me a lazy, knowing smile that showed his gleaming teeth. "If you'll excuse me, Feyre, love, I have business to attend to."

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the muscle in Rhysand's jaw twitched as he tried to hide his frown.

"Of course. Don't let me keep you." I gestured that he should go off and do whatever it is that he needed to do.

Helion slid easily from the seat, and took my hand, bringing it up to his lips. "It was so nice to meet you, Feyre."

"Uh… Yeah, same to you," I replied self-consciously, retracting my hand. Rhysand stalked out of the café, and his demeanor reminded me somewhat of a bird whose feathers had been ruffled. Helion casually followed behind.

I sipped on my cappuccino as they exchanged words outside the front of the café. Unfortunately, I couldn't hear them, and my gaze drifted to Helion's seat. He had already paid for the both of us – a bill was slipped underneath his empty espresso cup.

Raising my brows, I turned to look back towards where they were standing – just in time to see Helion leaving, continuing along the sidewalk past the front of the café.

The bells on the door jingled as Rhysand entered again, one hand in his pocket. He seemed more relax; his gait was graceful and confident, feline-like.

"He apologizes for leaving so suddenly," Rhysand explained wryly, slipping into the seat where Helion had been sitting. A deep purple, collared shirt peeked through the top of his black jacket.

As he lightly dusted off his pant legs, he smiled crookedly at me.

That crooked smile left me breathless.

While Helion's lazy beauty had been like staring into the sun for too long, Rhysand's attractive features was a slow, smoldering devastation. Rhysand was beautiful… He had a strong jawline and high cheekbones, but what astonished me the most were his eyes.

I had never seen anyone with eyes like his. They were a lovely hue of dark blue, or perhaps violet – honest-to-the-gods violet – and I could've sworn they were flecked with pale white specks, like twinkling stars among a twilight canvas. His eyes were framed by long, dark lashes.

I wondered if I could ever capture what I saw in his eyes with even the best of paints… I doubted it.

"So, where were we?" He propped his head up on one arm and looked at me.

I raised my eyebrows. He had the audacity to ask me that? I had no idea what was happening! And to top it off, his expression was completely unreadable.

I shook my head in disbelief.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that? I don't know you. I hardly know Helion. But I know you two know each other. So why don't you tell me what's going on?" I said coolly, tipping my chin up at him expectantly. I was already tired out from this morning, and I wasn't in the mood to play around. Or be a pawn in whatever odd game they were playing.

Rhysand's face darkened, although he dutifully tried to hide it. "I apologize, my name is Rhysand. Please call me Rhys. And I'm sorry about – about Helion. He was… messing with me, and you got caught up in it." The lethal edge in his voice returned.

My brows knit together in confusion. "But… I don't know you, Rhysand… Do I?"

Rhysand coughed into his hand. "Ah, really, call me Rhys… nobody calls me Rhysand except for my family and old people. And no, we've never met… But uh… Well, you see, I'm a patron of the arts, and my… family has donated a lot of money to the university. So," he shrugged, "I'm not really a student, since I'm welcome at the school any time. And also, Professor Agnes is a friend of my family's."

Disbelief and suspicion must have shown on my face, because I held Rhysand's gaze long enough that uncertainty flashed across his – just a flash.

Something about his story didn't add up, but I wasn't sure I wanted to pry. But I did want to know what was going on…

"So… what does this have to do with me?"

I swore Rhysand's face turned a shade pinker, although he still smirked confidently at me. "Well, there's no use beating around the bush, I suppose. I saw your portfolio, and I was very impressed by it. Especially since you weren't trained in Velaris."

He saw my portfolio? My mind was reeling. I didn't know how to process it at first – waves of emotions flooded through me, anger, confusion, hurt, pride, embarrassment…

"You – you saw my portfolio?" I managed, needing to understand or confirm although I didn't understand why. How? What? Why?

Rhysand seemed unsettled by the tangle of emotions that must have been written across my face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I just meant… I just meant that your work was very good."

I took a moment to think, to process what he was saying.

"Are you… are you the reason I was accepted?" My tone was indignant, although I tried not to sound too accusatory.

Rhysand stilled, and the answer he gave was slow and carefully worded. "No. No, Feyre, I mean… I'll admit, I'm a part of the admissions department, but we don't see the names of the applicants. Just their works and some general information, like gender and age. We don't find out the names until after the decisions are made. And… that's when I saw your file, after you were accepted. But I didn't know what you looked like. That's why I was curious to find out."

That crooked smile again. But there was the nagging feeling again, the feeling that something in his story didn't quite add up. He was guarded, and while he looked relaxed, I could tell he was poised and cautious.

"And… Helion? Is he like you, a patron of the university as well?"

Rhysand closed his violet eyes and sighed deeply. "No – well, yes, Helion is like me to an extent, but no, he is not a patron of the university – although, as you saw he will occasionally pose for Professor Agnes. Helion is currently visiting, and his favorite thing to do while visiting me is to bother the shit out of me and my friends."

I snorted. "Doesn't he have anything better to do?"

Rhys's eyebrows raised and a light danced in his violet eyes. "I ask myself the same thing every day. Anyway, he was around while I was casually flipping through portfolios of accepted students and… he noticed that I noticed yours. Which is why he asked you on this date – to mess with me. Which it has."

I couldn't help but laugh at his exasperated tone. He muttered up at the ceiling, "I was the one who wanted to ask you out for coffee or lunch sometime."

I was trying hard not to furiously blush, and hoping I sounded more confident than I looked, I replied, "He looks radiant, but he really does seem quite devilish. When does he go back to his home?"

Rhysand gave a dramatic sigh, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead for added effect. "Tomorrow, thank the gods. I've had enough of his glowing, dewy, naked complexion."

I laughed. "Well, what was his goal? To try and get in my pants?"

Rhys's brows raised suggestively. "Well, he certainly wouldn't have said no. But no, it was mostly just to get on my nerves."

His violet eyes pierced mine, and I tried not to balk at the intensity of his gaze. "So, Feyre. Tell me about yourself. How you got into painting and such."

So I told him my story, bits and pieces at first. How some days, the only comfort I found in the world was through my paints. How my sister Elain had saved up pennies and spare change to buy me a new set of watercolor paints for my birthday one year, when we didn't have money to spare for nonessentials. I mentioned that we recently moved to Velaris, only a year and a half ago, and he nodded, smiling sheepishly.

"Sorry to sound like such a snake, but I noticed that in your file, as well. If you ever need any recommendations, just let me know. I know the city quite well." That twinkle had returned to his eyes, like little stars laughing. I smiled.

"Thanks, I appreciate it. And… thanks for what you said, about my painting too. I just… I just painted for myself. And to share with my sisters, I suppose… But mostly for myself."

Rhysand's eyes simmered with an emotion I couldn't quite place. "It shows," he said quietly.

I checked the time on my phone; it was almost time for my last class of the day, Color Theory.

Rhys followed my gaze. "You have to go."

I smiled apologetically. "Yeah, I've got class."

"Well, don't let me keep you. It was nice to meet you, although I wish it had gone differently." His expression was somewhat sorrowful, but he winked at me, and I struggled to control the sudden pounding of my heart.

"Let's exchange numbers," I blurted out, my heart jumping in my chest. Why not? I had given my number to Helion earlier today, although to be fair, he had asked me…

Rhys smirked and leaned towards me. "Okay. Let's meet again."

His words promised me a new beginning.