Rock Me

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen-

"You will all have two hours to draw your partner. But of course you'll need to make it look posed yet natural. Be creative, and most of all just be carefully detailed in your drawing. Your time starts now!" Miss.Jolie announced snapping her fingers as a gesture to start. I sighed heavily before carefully observing Zayn's facial features. I was stuck. Already.

"You look lost." He mumbled staring at me looking at my own features.

"That's because I am." I replied. "I'm not articulate like you." Why did I compliment him? I'm supposed to be hating this guy!

Zayn smirked already beginning an outline of my face. "Just draw what you see regularly. Don't try and make it the next 'Mona Lisa' or anything, just draw from your memory and what you're used to seeing. Arts all about creativity and imagination, not to mention skill; so draw it like it's your last drawing, making it something to be proud of." His words seem to strike me in my heart, this guy had such a soft spot when it came to art. He knew what he was talking about, and I admired that. I smiled warmly as he broke the intense eye contact, and began to draw my hair from the scalp upwards.

"Thanks." I whispered. He nodded, not braking his eyes from the sheet of paper his pencil was glued to. I sighed again, and began to draw what I remembered. What I was used to seeing, what I saw in my mind when someone said the name Zayn Malik.

* * *

I wasn't one hundred percent happy with the result, it was good, but in my mind it wasn't good enough. I sighed five minutes before the two hours were up, and blended in what I could, making some parts more shaded than others but made it look half decent. Zayn decided an hour in to move further away, and make our ending results a surprise to one another. I accepted, but not happily.

I was still annoyed at him. I still wanted to slap him silly and scream at him for making me feel like total crap. But the thing is, I couldn't. It had nothing to do with anyone around us, it's just I couldn't bring myself to do it. No matter how hard I tried to hate him and tell him I hated him..I couldn't. I didn't want to. But I just wanted him to know how much he hurt me emotionally.

I placed my pencil down, glancing at the clock and reading there were two minutes left. I let my eyes wander around to room seeing other couples still deep in thought and remaining in the 'drawing zone' as I called it. I looked to Zayn who was sat twirling his pencil around his fingers, and staring intensely at me, with his portrait of me turned face down so I couldn't see it. He was biting his bottom lip again, and from my knowledge I knew he did it because he was somewhat nervous. What was he nervous about? His drawing? The guy was an artist, he had no reason to be nervous. "Right class,times up!" Miss.Jolie's voce echoed around the room as the class jumped at the sudden loud noise. I chewed the inside of my cheek looking down at my drawing again, I bet it's going to suck to Zayn. He's going to hate it and never talk to me again. "You can now share your masterpieces!" She exclaimed in a high pitched voice. I turned to Zayn again, and held the drawing into my chest as he did the same.

"You first." He nodded glancing down at the sheet of A4. I shook my head vigorously. "Why?" He questioned almost laughing. There were outbursts of gasps and excitement around the room as people revealed their portraits, I think me and Zayn were the only ones who hadn't shown either of the pictures.

"Because it sucks." I pouted childishly unable to build up the courage and face the possibilities of humiliation.

"I doubt it, come on Orla?" He asked with pleading eyes and a playful smirk. I inhaled a bucket full of oxygen before turning the sheet of paper to him, and looking around the room at familiar cracks in walls and splatters of paint on cupboards I had observed earlier out of boredom. I felt Zayn tug at the sheet of paper, then take it from my grasp. I lent my arm on the table and ran a hand through me hair avoiding as much eye contact as I could. He let out a whispered laugh and I felt my cheeks redden instantly. He hated it. He thinks I'm rubbish. Oh god. "When I said draw what you see regularly I didn't think you would of drawn me and a cigarette." I looked up meeting his eyes that seemed to be glued to the paper. "This is actually really good, Orla!" He smiled. I had drawn him like I saw him for the first time, he was in a leather jacket, looking to his friends with shade over his eyes and a cigarette in his mouth. That was when I began to feel a strange attraction to him, when I knew he would be trouble but still important to me at the same time.