CONTRADICTED STARS || L. PARTRIDGE [1 | EDITING]

14. Difficult Art

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IF SAYING SORRY WAS CONSIDERED AN ART, Cabrera considered herself to be the amateur of all amateurs. The mere thought of it made her feel as if she was surrendering herself under that person's control, and she despised feeling powerless. So when she caught sight of Louis Partridge walking down the sidewalk to her direction on that chilly Sunday morning, she wished she could have disappeared.

'Perhaps I could walk past?' She thought to herself.

The sunshine beamed down on his hair, showcasing its rich autumn treasure hues, as if it had been woven with the warm hands of an artist, or rather, stroked with the earthly coloured brushes of a brilliant creator. And his eyes, oh his eyes, they shone like polished gems, sparkling in the sunlight. They weren't supposed to do that, and she wasn't supposed to find him intriguing enough to observe every detail about him, but: How had she never noticed before that Louis seemed like he was straight out of a novel?

He didn't look at her once or twice, but much to her own surprise, she understood perfectly well. There she felt a sudden feeling in her chest, and it brought utter shame and discomfort. If she physically rolled her eyes right now, she was aware they would get stuck at the back of her head, and it would pain her for life.

Louis was getting closer.

Nearer.

And then, she looked away to appear as if she was distracted. However, before she could walk past him, she heard his voice as normal as it was with the right tone of casual monotonous greeting, "Cabrera."

She turned with a blank stare, "Partridge."

The boy nodded his head before he continued his walk, and as he did so, Cabrera noticed the sensation of his shoulder brushing past hers with a short-lived warmth forming on the spot on contact. She truly had no idea what it was, but then she halted. Her eyes sought him on the pavement, wondering if she should tell him of her deed with the work at the pub.

"Partridge," she called. It's not that he didn't hear, she was sure of it, but he didn't stop and just casually ignored her. She walked after him slowly, "Partridge, we need to talk."

No answer.

"Hey!" Her call proved futile as he only resumed his walk. Now she'd formed an idea to say the most unhinged thing she never thought she would say. "I just killed your hamster!" She yelled, then realised that maybe that was too much. It was the first thing that came up in her head, but it was still ineffective.