Talks and Texts [ #1]

11 | sourwolf and patience

11 | sourwolf and patience

"What, are you going to type me a 'hi' now?" Jessica asked, wryly.

Jacon shoved his phone in jeans pocket. "Hi, overly motivated, unwanted project partner."

She gave him a look, "I'm not overly motivated. I'm just concerned about my studies which is a valid concern for someone who is desperately banking on a scholarship for college so excuse me, Mr. High and Mighty, but at least try to pretend to be nice for like two hours. I promise it won't kill you."

His ears turned pink but he rolled his eyes, gesturing towards the place. "This dump, with you, two hours? It might just kill me."

"Haha, very funny."

They walked through the reception area, each walking purposely slightly away from the other but Jessica couldn't keep up the argument for long. Art museums aren't the kind of places one can think of anything quarrelsome after a point. There was a calm in the shushed corridors and cool walls. There were hardly any people around and those who were, were quietly engaged in either deep study of various painting or slack-jawed blissful appreciation of the same.

"This place is so beautiful," she said, stopping against a painting called Clothes on a Windy Washing Line.

Jacob sighed loudly, interrupting the peace, and stopped beside her, "And what is this supposed to be?"

"Read the caption," she dead-panned. "You'll be surprised."

He shook his head. "I'll pass but this place is indeed surprising. It is worse than I expected."

Jessica ran a hand over her face. This was going to be a long two hours.

"What the hell is that?" Jacob asked in a disgusted voice, pointing at the painting she had stopped beside.

They had been walking around the museum for around an hour now looking at some lesser known paintings and replicas and Jacob had reverted to his silent self long ago. Jessica had tried to talk now and then but he ignored her voice or only gave one word replies. Until she said that since he was being no help she was just going to go ahead and choose one on her own. She pointed to the Sunset Souvenir and he lost his mute demeanour.

He spoke up, not caring that the other visitors could hear him, "They call this art? It looks as if someone puked all over the canvas, puked orange vomit all over and framed it. Maybe the artist drank Fanta and then his stomach just-"

She stared at him. "Jacob, you just spoiled the whole painting for me, you jerk." She blushed with embarrassment as two women turned around to look at them.

He put on an over-girly voice and mimicked, "Oh you spoiled the whole painting for me, you jerk. God! Jessica, you are no fun. Such a sourwolf."

"I am a sourwolf!? You're one to talk. Besides, we didn't come here to have fun," she said trying to control my temper. This is just a ruse, she told herself, so that I ask him to leave and do the whole project on my own. Well, I am not going to fall for it. "Now, if you have appreciated that painting enough, help me find another one and please, refrain from traumatizing remarks this time."

Truth be told, Jacob was weird. One minute he was all silent and cold, the next he was sarcastic to the point of talkative. His mood changes were beginning to drive her crazy. Scratch that, he was driving her crazy.

***

dedicated to settle- because she writes stories that leave a mark on one's mind forever.