Rayna and the Last Dragon by Santana Torryn

Author:Santana, Torryn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: B. Love Publications
Published: 2023-12-19T00:00:00+00:00

At 7:55 p.m., I was on the community center’s roof, checking everything in place. I’d scattered tea lights around the plants I’d brought up here, casting a warm, romantic glow. A blanket lay near the ledge with a wicker basket holding a simple meal I’d purchased from the deli.

It wasn’t much, but it was the best I could do. Now, I just had to wait, praying she’d come.

At 8:01 p.m., the rooftop door creaked open. Rayna stepped out, her petite frame silhouetted in the moonlight. Her braids were loose, tumbling down her back. She’d swapped her average t-shirt and jeans for a flowing dress that accentuated her curves. My mouth went dry. She was magnificent.

“Dragon?” Her voice was husky and uncertain.

I unfroze and stepped forward into the candlelight. “You came.”

She drifted toward me, eyes widening as she took in the scene. “What’s all this?”

I rubbed my neck, pulse hammering. “It’s for you. I wanted to show you how much I... ” I hesitated, then tried again. “How much our friendship means to me.”

Her lips curved into a radiant smile. My heart stuttered.

“It’s perfect.” She stepped closer. “Thank you.”

We stood there momentarily. Our gazes locked. Everything I wanted to say hovered in the scant space between us. I pulled out the art supplies I had brought—canvases, brushes, an array of vibrant paints, and even a bottle of wine.

“Surprise.” I grinned, holding up the art supplies. “How about a paint and sip night under the stars?”

Rayna’s eyes lit up with excitement, and she clapped her hands. “I love it! I’ve never painted under the stars before.”

We set up our makeshift studio under the open sky. The city’s skyline gleamed in the distance.

“What should we paint?” I asked.

She thought for a moment, her eyebrows furrowing in concentration. “Why not paint each other?” she suggested, a sly glint in her eyes.

I smirked, pouring some red wine into flimsy cups. “Sounds risky,” I joked, tapping my cup to hers. “But I’m up for it if you are.”

Our brushes moved swiftly, capturing on canvas the likenesses of each other. Rayna’s laughter was contagious, and soon, I found myself engrossed in the moment. We toyed with each other as we painted, our brushes taking playful liberties as we exaggerated each other’s features on the canvases. Rayna’s strokes were sure and deliberate. Her eyes focused as she encapsulated the intensity of my stare. On the other hand, I painted her with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, highlighting the woman I was getting to know more intimately.

The night air was cool against our skin as we sat among the scattered art supplies while our paintings dried in the gentle breeze. Rayna’s eyes were fixed on her canvas with a mixture of concentration and vulnerability in her gaze. A flicker of hesitation registered in her voice before she spoke carried a weight of memories.

“You know… I haven’t painted since my dad passed away.” Her fingers traced the outline of her painting. “He used to paint with me when I was a kid.

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