Touch of betrayal

Chapter 2: "The PINK ones are a personal favorite"

As we got off the subway, the entire time we were inside the subway i stayed silent. Not once did i talk nor glance back at the mysterious stalker wanting to buy my painting.

As we walk towards the sidewalks, i stop my tracks as we near towards the apartments where i live.

"Are you looking anything in particular?" I ask him.

He stands there. bringing his hand up to his chin, grazing it with his thumb as he pounders.

It's funny he has to think about it, I thought he must've had something in mind as he approached me in the subway earlier shocking me on the fact he knows I paint.

"Anything that would look pretty much welcoming in a salon?" He scratches the back of his neck nervously.

I just stand there before i say. "Alright, Let me just take my paintings out of my suitcase and i'll set them up" He nods and lets me proceed. I open my briefcase, setting each painting in a line so he can get a good view of each one. I stand on the side with my arms crossed around my chest.

I fidget with the wool string from my top, biting my lip nervously. I clear my throat " I guess these might do"I gesture the paintings with my hand. Each painting are of different type's of flowers.

Lillie's, daffodil's, daisies, peonies, even violets.

"So... you like flowers?"

I look at him. I thought he was interested in buying a painting from me, but it clearly looks like he's MORE interested in me.

"Yeah, i do" I trail on. "They're basically the only thing that make sense to me here" I lift my hand and place it on my neck, scratching it awkwardly.

Now i was the one scratching the back of my neck.

He smiles at my response, as he looks back at the paintings.

"They're amazing"

"W-What?" I stutter.

"Your paintings" He states. He crosses his arms together to his chest and trails on. "The colors are blended well, the strokes are soft, yet noticeable. The tone of the entire painting speaks gentleness"

Flustered, i stare at him as I inhale and exhale my breath before asking him. 

Are you-" I inhale and exhale again.

"Are you an artist?" I ask.

He stands there, looking at me with his thumb grazing his chin.

"Yeah, i am"

He had piqued my interested by now. He has so much knowledge about art.

I wonder if... I wonder if he can see colors?

"-I'm a hair-stylist"

As the sentence left his lips, i scrunch my nose and forehead, along raise my eyebrow at him.

What.

What kind of a joke is this?

He rubs the back of his neck again, indicating he's nervous.

"I meant 'artist' artist" I state at him.

He just looks at me.

"So, just because i don't paint paintings" He trails on. "I'm not an 'artist'?"

I shift my leg with the other as he trails on.

"I don't see the difference" He pounders, bringing up his thumb to his chin. He gestures to my paintings.