Paints, Pencils and Parties

4. I Don't Have Time

I don't really have any problem catering people from my school. Not like anyone ever comes, but even if they did, I wouldn't have.

Xavier, on the other hand, is a very big exception. Catering Xavier means talking to him. And I have had my daily dose of talking to him in school. I'm one hundred percent certain that the words we exchanged in the hallway today were much more than the words we have ever exchanged in the past six years.

"You can't say that I didn't warn you." Olivia speaks in an empathetic tone.

This day could not get any worse.

"I'll owe you a big one if you just serve them today. Please?" Olivia very well knows how much I detest Xavier. "Help a friend here."

She seems lost in her thoughts for a few minutes, looks over at the group of boys, and then looks back at me. All the while, my breath is caught in my throat. She then heaves a sigh.

"Fine."

I squeal in happiness, not too loud though. "I literally love you. You're the best, darling."

"Yeah, yeah. I expect an ice cream on our way back, though." Her voice comes out in a teasing tone.

I lightly bump her shoulder with mine. "I'll get you the whole truck."

"I'll count on that. Now, I better go serving them before they go complaining to our manager."

I feel a pang of guilt in my chest. "I'm sorry."

She turns over to me, her eyes wide. "No, girl. It's fine, I don't mind. I understand you don't want to talk to them. Don't apologise for it."

I give her a grateful smile, which is returned by her. She then makes her way towards the table. I watch as she takes their orders, not caring in the least about what everyone think of her, even though she's an introvert. She's just...herself. And it works on her.

I aspire to have to that confidence someday. I seek validation from others, letting others decide who I am, and what they want me to be. I know it's so wrong, so so wrong. But I can't help it. I want to be carefree and reckless in decisions. But there's this silent voice in my head that keeps telling me to be perfect. To be at the top.

I want other people to think that I'm good. That I'm friendly and amiable. That they can talk to me. I have a reputation for maintaining a good relationship even with the people I hate the most.

All because I don't want anyone to think bad of me.

After taking their orders, Olivia comes back. Suddenly, I feel myself getting hot. Like burning.

"Hey, uh, I'll just come from the bathroom." Olivia nods her head, and I walk in direction of the bathroom.

I enter the door that has 'STAFF ONLY' written on its front. I lock the door and look in the mirror.

My skin is red, for I don't know what reason. I open the faucet and cup my hands under the running water. I splash some onto my face, the cold water in contrast to my burning face.

After some more splashes, I dry my face with a tissue, and look in the mirror again. My face is back to normal again. I let out a sigh of relief.

Do I have some allergy or something?

I take a few moments to breath properly.

In and out.

In and out.

Okay, that's enough.

I unlock the door of the bathroom and am about to step out, when a hand clasps itself onto my mouth and pulls me into the bathroom again. I don't even have time to register the face, but I know it's not a staff member because of the rock-hard abs underneath the black shirt. I feel the person lock the door behind me, and I screw my eyes shut. I violently begin to struggle against them. However, all my struggles go into vain, when the person pins my hands to the sides.