See Beneath Your Beautiful {h.s} (Abandoned)

Chapter 8

"Agh! " I scream. I was really beginning to get frustrated. I coudn't come up with a single idea! Poor Harry had done every pose, every expression, everything that I could think of and still I had nothing.

"Hey, it's okay Ginger. It'll come to you." Harry reassured. I glare at him, not in the mood for all that, good things come to those that wait, bullshit. I instantly felt guilty. It wasn't Harry's fault. He'd done everything I'd asked and even more.

But my brain just did not want to co-operate.

"I'm sorry," I apologise, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. "It's just really annoying when you can't come up with something on the spot. And to make it better, Mr Morrison has only given me four hours to have my first piece started." I explain.

I had already wasted an hour getting Harry to do poses and expressions. We had had a good laugh. He was so cute sometimes. A real friggin cupcake.

Harry gave me a sympathetic smile and turned back to his notepad, where he had been writing down something for the past hour. He began to hum a tune I'd never heard before and my curiosity lit up. "What are you doing?" I ask, sliding closer to get a peek into his pad. But before I could read anything he shut it with a snap. I look up at him bewildered.

"I don't like people looking at my music." Harry says coldy, his eyes guarded. Woah.

"Oh, sorry..." I mumble, my cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

So he was defensive about his music...Maybe that was the key to him. Music.

An idea suddenly struck me. I hop to my feet and run over to my note-pad with my art ideas. I quickly scribble down one or two ideas and a smile breaks across my face.

I was finally getting somewhere. I look up at Harry, about to inform him of what I wanted him to do, when my eyes met his cold, hard gaze. My smile faltered and I stiffened.

Oh dear, another one of his mood swings. The way he was looking at me, made me feel as though he hated me. But that was ridiculous wasn't it?

I gulp and shakily stand up and move slowly towards him, never leaving his arctic gaze.

"I, um, have an idea..." I say awkwardly.

"What is it." He says sullenly.

"Um, I need you to stand up and take your shirt off." I say, looking anywhere but at Harry. The way he looked at me reminded me of a dark angel, who reminded me of Harry. I wasn't certain if it was a dream or a movie, but it was an idea all the same.

Harry stands, his height towering over me and tugs his plaid shirt off and throws it to the side.

"Is that it?" He asks. I nod and quickly cower back behind my eisel.

I gather black, white, grey and silver paint off the shelves and squirt them on to a pallet. I fill a glass with water and grab a few tissue's. I set them on a small table and look over the eisel at Harry, who is scowling at me.

"I'd appreciate if you didn't look at me as if you wanted to chop my head off. And if you do, please keep it until the end." I say angrily. He was so annoying! I just glanced at his music and you'd swear I took the last piece of pizza without asking.

His glare and scowl deepens. I walk over to him.

"Stand straight, shoulders a little forward and your head slightly bowed." I instruct. He just stands there.

I sigh, rubbing my forehead. "Okay look, I'm sorry I looked at your music, I had no right to do that, but can you at least just co-operate until I'm finished? Then you can kill me." I apologise.