His Angel

Chapter 6 - Ronny

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"I give up," Riley exclaims before, carelessly, throwing her paintbrush across the room; luminous pink paint splattering across the tiled floor as it lands.

Whilst Riley very well knows she is using acrylic paint she appears as if she could not care less about the resulting prominent stain in her bedroom, however, I cannot deny that the stain only seems to compliment it's design.

As I had entered a few hours earlier, I could not mask how at awe I felt looking around at it in first glance and I immediately wished my own was similar; although I doubt it would suit me if it were. The small size of the room miserably failed to lessen its character; each of the four walls crammed with graffiti and abstract paintings of different colours, all following a similar style. The ceiling is veiled with drapes, each drape having intricate patterns woven onto it or alluring blocks of colour filling it. The floor is of red brick with different colours of paint scattered across it; I assume from events like the recent one. A bed stands proudly in the centre of the room, the backboard and legs are a matt black colour with specs of white, and the headboard has an intricate twisting metal design on it.  Paint cans and paint brushes lie on the floor with no desk in sight; a technique I would normally query but cannot help but admire as the products of her painting prove that they are most successful. Whilst the majority of her clothing are sprawled on top of the purple sofa chair in the right hand corner of the room, there is a significantly large wardrobe, decorated with photos, various newspaper articles and sticky notes leaving no area sparse. I wish my bedroom correlated with my persona as much as Riley's does with her's.

"Just a couple more hours and then we can have a break," I try to reason, but I too can feel my motivation dissipating.

"We've been working for hours," she whines dramatically as she flops back onto the cold floor.

"Mrs Cross said-"

"Yes, I know, I know I was there. She said to have our pieces 'done by Monday'. Well, she can bloody well try to begin and finish an A-level standard painting within three days herself then. Let's see how fun she finds that...huh! Honestly, first fucking week and I'm spending it doing this shit... I swear to fucking God..." Riley trails off after interrupting my relay of our art teachers instructions.

"Yeah, your right, it is harsh but we want to give her a positive first impression of us as students. If she likes us it'll make this year a hell of a lot more enjoyable, I'm sure of it," I argue earning a simple grunt of agreement in response. 

Mulling over our options I form a plan, "okay, how about we take a breather for a couple of hours now, and we'll power through  the remainder our paintings later? We can even order pizza or something to make it slightly less painful."

"Really?" She shoots up off the floor and instantly turns down the loud music that was previously filling the air between us, "Thank fuck! Im all in for a break. Let's go to 'Barney's'" she declares before hurrying towards the sofa chair and throwing various clothing pieces towards me. As my mouth opens to form a sentence, she silences my question imperatively, "quick, put them on!" Fearful of the consequences given to any resistance, I abide.

"What's 'Barneys' ?" I ask, my words muffled by the orange and red vest top, half stuck over my face.

"It's a local bar, lots of people from our school hang out there," she explains as she picks up a casual black mini dress and smirks to herself in approval.

"Wait, a bar? You know I won't be able to get served; I'm not eighteen yet," I sigh, immediately as I finish pulling up the baggy jeans I am, essentially, borrowing which now hang low on my waist.