•DESTINED•

•Chapter Seven•

I crumple up my eleventh sheet of paper, frustrated at my lack of inspiration.

I tried to recreate Evan's tattoo on paper. It failed.

I tried to sketch him from memory of him under the moonlight and draw the tattoo next to him but that failed.

I tried to sketch us together but that image wouldn't come to my mind's eye.

There's a knock on the door before it opens when I don't answer.

"Whoa..." Aunt Portia's eyes widen at the sight of the crumpled balls of paper scattered everywhere over the floor and on my desk.

"I know," I force a smile to hide my frustration.

I want to keep the image of him in my head so that when I go back to the city, he can stay with me. His beauty can't be wasted... As cringe as that sounds.

Aunt Portia kneels down to retrieve a crumpled page from the floor and attempts to straighten it out as best as she can.

I watch her do so, uncertain of how she'd react.

"This..." She sounds stunned, "it's beautiful. Is this... The boy from lat night?"

A smile spreads on her face.

"Evan," I correct her, "yes."

"This is a beautiful drawing, Violet. Why'd you crumble it up?"

"Which one is that?" I've forgotten about the crumpled pictures already.

She shows me.

His back is facing me from the page but his face is turned to the left where his tattoo is visible behind his ear.

Around the bottom of him is butterflies fluttering around him.

I added the butterflies because I could feel myself getting frustrated at how the picture was turning out.

Now that I look at it again, I see how beautifully I captured him.

"I don't know," I say, trying to remember why I crumbled it up in the first place. I could've kept it.

"May I keep it?" She asks.

I raise an eyebrow, "You into him or something?"

"Of course not. Are you?" She grins mischievously.

"What? No. Why do you want to keep it?"

"Because it's a beautiful, Violet. At least let me make a copy of it at the gallery when I go down there in a few minutes."

"Fine," I sigh, "but I want the original."

"Of course. But I must ask the question; why crumble it up in the first place?"

"Like I said... I'm not sure. I probably got  frustrated."

"Sounds right."

I smile and look down at my page. It's empty, waiting to be filled.

Then... I click.

"Shit!" I shoot up from my chair as soon as a knock sounds on the massive double doors at the entrance of the Manor.

It's after nine.

"Now what's with the language?" Aunt Portia sounds totally unbothered by the knock that just sounded on the front door.

"Evan wanted to take me out-" I ramaged through my cupboard. Why didn't I pack something pretty?

Aunt Portia watches me, "And I didn't hear about this?"

"No-" I pull out a pair of baggy ripped jeans, "Not out. I mean-" I pull my pyjama shorts off and pull my highwaist ripped jeans on, "For flowers!"

Aunt Portia wants to laugh, "Slow down. You're making no sense."

I grunt and push the button of my jeans through the slit, "HE'S AT THE DOOR!"

Aunt Portia's eyes widen, "Oh!"

She races out.

I quickly reach for my elastic- string crop top and toss it to the bed.

I grab my best bra from the drawer and clip it on before bringing the crop top over my head and tie the strings so that it raises to a triangle from the belt on my jeans.

I run for my hairbrush in the desk drawer and run it through my hair.

Aunt Portia rushes back in, looking frantic, "It's him."

"I know!" I whisper shout.

"He's in the lounge. I told him you're getting ready."

"No," I nearly yell, "he's gonna think I forgot."

"But you did?" Aunt Portia raises her eyebrows.

"No...yes!"

Aunt Portia throws my lipgloss and my small shoulder bag at me to keep my lipgloss and perfume in.

Who needs a best friend when you've got an aunt like aunt Portia?

I catch it after I tie the shoelace on my on Nike shoes.

Then I apply a layer of lipgloss and toss it in my bag and then I spray my best perfume on my neck and wrists... And my chest - just in case.

Then I toss it in my small bag along with some net bags for the flowers.

"How do I look?" I ask, spinning quickly.

Aunt Portia smiles before grabbing my wrist and racing down the passage to the lounge.

•••

He's sitting on the couch, on his phone.

I don't say anything.

I don't need to.

He spots me and smiles briefly, "Goodmorning."

I smile back at him, "Morning."

Aunt Portia looks from me to Evan, from Evan to me.

"Well, you lot go ahead... And Evan?" Aunt Portia goes serious.

He looks up at her, "Yes?"

"Look after her with your life. If you don't, I'll kill you before her mother kills me," she waits for his response, "got it?"

"I will look after her, miss," he says cooly, "I promise. I don't make promises I can't keep."

"It better be that way. Be back my lunch. Just to let me know that you guys are still safe," aunt Portia says.

"No problem," Evan smiles, sliding his phone into his pocket.

I walk to his side after saying my goodbyes to aunt Portia.