•DESTINED•

•Chapter Fourteen•

A week passed. I've called my mom and Quinn a few times. Aunt Portia had returned from the gallery and had found Evan resting his head on my lap.

He had fallen asleep but I didn't wake him. I didn't want to.

He had only left at past ten that night because we were in my room, trying out each other's talents.

He tried to draw, I tried to paint.

His sketch of me was beautiful. He insisted that I keep it after he went home to paint it. I failed miserably at painting him but it was an attempt. An attempt that casted a dark cloud over my sketches because it looked so shit.

Eventually he had left after giving me a half-hearted hug by simply cast his arm over my shoulders and gave aunt Portia a kiss on the cheek.

She seemed to blush as much as I did.

He left after giving me a slight grin over his shoulder.

Now I'm sitting on my bed, sketching my painting of him because... The way I had captured him a week ago was so beautiful.

I haven't really heard from him since that night which would have worried me if it hadn't been for the fact that his parents had been here two nights ago for dinner. They had apologized on Evans behalf for him not being there. Apparently, he was out with friends.

It figures.

He was probably out, looking at girls, making comments with his friends about them, asking them for their numbers; you know, being a typical male.

I didn't let it bother me too much. We're just friends. If that's what you can call what it. We might just be acquaintances. Fimiliar ones.

After I captured all the shadows that darkened his gorgeous features and dragged out all the beautiful wavy strands of hair that fell into his eyes as he stared down at the sketchpad I'd borrowed him.

I captured the full, smooth lips, the long eyelashes that stuck out perfectly.

I even captured the defined jawlined.

Beautiful. That's what he was.

Out of my league.

When I'd finished, I smiled at the result and slid the page into the drawer of my desk.

Aunt Portia poked her head into my room, "You have a visitor."

"Who is it?" I know who it is. How... Coincidental.

"Who do you think it is?"

"Evan," I sigh.

"You've hit the jackpot!"

I smile at her enthusiasm because it's more than what I could ever feel.

I wait for a while after aunt Portia leaves and watch as Evan enters.

Someone else closes the door. Aunt Portia. Every other day she says it must stay open. Now she's closing it.

Where's her mind going? I smile and Evan thinks I'm smiling at him because he smiles at me.

"How's life?" He asks.

"Great and you?"

"I almost got a new tattoo."

I smile and nod, "What would the tattoo have been of?"

He looks around the room as if he wanted to add a dramatic pause to his response, "It was going to be a self-design."

"Of?"

"I wasn't sure," he says quietly, "so i didn't get one."

I look away, not sure how to respond.

He watches me, "What have you been up to?"

"Nothing much really. Just sketching. The usual," I shrug.

He pouts his lips slightly as he nods, "Okay. Want to go for a walk?"

"Aren't you tired?" I raise an eyebrow at him.

"Tired? From what?"

"Being with your friends and... stuff," I had no proof that was actually with other girls but the thought still bothered me. Even though it shouldn't have. We weren't together and only knew each other for a week or two.

But I couldn't hide the jealousy that edged my voice when I said 'stuff'.

He raised his eyebrow at me, a smirk forming on his face, "Stuff? Want to clarify?"

"No," I say quickly, "there's nothing to clarify."

He stepped closer, arrogance weighing on his rolled back shoulders.

He stared down at me, his green eyes sparkling under the sun rays that is pouring into my room. I stare at him, knowing that I'd sketch this very moment later on when every normal person would be asleep.

"If I didn't know any better, Violet," he licks his lips, his eyes narrowed slightly, "I'd say you're jealous. But that's not the case, is it?"

My heart flutters, "What? No. Why would I be jealous?"

His brows knit together, briefly, as he scans my face, "Exactly. Why would you be jealous?"

"I'm not, so..." I gulp down the fat lump in my throat, "stop."

"I'm not doing anything," he smirks once more.

I don't respond. I get to my feet and flail my hands in the minimal space between us to tell him that he should move.

He doesn't budge.

I frown up at him, "Excuse me, please."

He smiles, "You're excused."

He still doesn't move.

At that point, I sigh. I shove my chair back with my calves and move around him.

"Is something wrong?" He asks, not out of genuine concern but out of amusement.

I turn to him, my hair whipping my face, "No. I told you already. Let's just go for a walk."

"Looks like you need it," he remarks.

I pull a face at him. The grab his wrist. A bold move but he was irritating me. I open my door and head out.

Aunt Portia is nowhere to be seen but I'm sure she won't mind if I leave.

That's when Evan stands bolt still. I nearly stumble backwards against his chest.

"What now?" I ask, rolling my eyes.

"I don't feel like walking," he says adamantly, "I want to sit and watch movies with you."

"You sound like a spoiled child," I say giving in.

"Maybe I am," he says triumphantly.