Nikolas

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

"Where'd you go on Saturday? I thought I was your ride home," Olivia asks, linking arms with me. Though she wasn't much of a talker, I could tell her love language was physical affection. She was always linking arms with someone, or holding onto someone's hands. I liked it, it made me feel like I had someone to hold onto. 

"Sorry, I left early," I don't explain further throwing her a sheepish smile. She doesn't ask for more and we walk to Calculus. I pray that she didn't notice the bruise on my cheek that I tried my best to cover with some makeup. I didn't know how I did, but the way no one asked me any questions, I just assumed that I did a good job. 

Elodie and Vivianne fall into easy conversation about the party and Olivia focuses on the textbook in front of us. Though she didn't need to study, I saw her just reading textbooks often. I didn't know what was so fascinating about them, but she read them like Summer reads novels. It was weird, but I didn't say anything as I jot down notes. 

When class was over, my eyes widen when Lola grabs my arm. I never interacted with her the past week. She was always in her own little world, reading a book or just staring into space. She was so beautiful and intimidating no one ever tried to talk to her, not that she would talk back. So I didn't either, just giving her a short greeting in the morning and smiling at her when she gave me a fork to share whatever salad she had for lunch. I never took her food, but held onto the fork as if that was what she was giving me. 

She signed to the girls something I didn't understand and they all nodded before leaving. She waved to me to follow her. 

I frowned but did anyway. She held onto my arm as we walked through the hall. Students were filing into it but we didn't have trouble getting through as they cleared a path for Lola. She had quite the reputation here, too. People were scared of her. But at the same time, they all wanted a piece of her. When I peeked at her phone a few times, she had over eight hundred thousand followers on Instagram. I assumed she was some sort of influencer but then I saw what she had posted.

Her art. 

She was a painter. I realized that she didn't need to talk. Her art represented her perfectly. Every painting was so beautiful and delicate, I couldn't help but understand why so many people were so in awe of her. 

Once we got to the girls bathroom, she pointed at me to stay where as was as she opened the locked cabinet I assumed was only accessible by janitors with a key she had in her pocket. I frowned and watched her take out a small bag. 

"What's that?" I asked her, peeking as she slid the zipper open. 

She reached in the bag and took out the same makeup wipes that was in Viviannes purse Saturday night and I realized why I was here. I wasn't a makeup artist but I thought I did a decent job hiding some discoloration. I sighed and watched her take out the other makeup products in the bag. 

Taking out her phone, her fingers flew through the keyboard before showing me the screen. 

you don't need to explain anything to me, but let me fix it for you. 

My eyes widened and my heart pounded. I nod, not saying anything. She got to work, wiping away the poorly applied foundation on my face. I didn't say anything as she patted in products and powders into my face. 

I just watched her perfectly painted face. She always had some kind of artwork going on in her face. Today, she had a red look going on her eye lids, everything pulled together with a perfect red lip that accentuated her full lips. 

When she was done, I looked up to the mirror to see that the bruise was gone. My skin ws perfectly even and she had even applied other products to my face. I smiled, "Thank you." She signs something with her hands that I couldn't understand but I assumed it meant 'you're welcome'.