Despising you

Chapter 20

J e n n i e

I am so utterly done for. I've had three weeks to work on this art project, which is worth the entirety of my final grade and I've done absolutely nothing.

In fact, I didn't even remember until Tae messaged me about it and told me it's due tomorrow! How did it slip my mind? I haven't even planned anything! Besides the fact that I know I have to do a live portrait of someone from school, the problem with that is I haven't picked anyone.

What was I thinking? Oh, I know. Instead of paying attention in art class—which is literally the only class that elates me—I've been too preoccupied with Lisa Manobal.

Because of her, I'm now rummaging through my Art room trying to set up my supplies, while wrecking pure havoc on everything around me.

I was doing such a good job of avoiding her until that party on Friday. I've spent the whole weekend thinking about her, replaying the events of her punching that boy and us arguing in the bathroom.

I just hated seeing her icing her fist like that and I blew up. She could have seriously gotten hurt punching that guy. I mean yeah, she might be strong, but she's not exactly a body builder. I had to argue with her so she knows not to do that again, no matter how hot it was.

Hot? Oh my God, no! This is why I can't focus on anything; she has embedded herself in all of my thoughts; I can't stop thinking about her, or that kiss. The same kiss that I said was a mistake, which she readily agreed with, until she pretended to kiss me again and then practically laughed at me.

Why did that make my chest clench in response? Why does the thought of her thinking our kiss was a mistake send my stomach into a wave of despair? I don't know what's happening to me.

I can't...I can't like girls. That's not what's happening here; I just can't forget about the kiss because objectively, it was a perfect kiss. If I had the same kiss with a boy, it would have made me feel the same exact way. I'm not depraved like she is; it doesn't count if I'm not actually into girls.

I could never be into girls. I just can't; I'm not like my father.

I push the thought away and set my easel and canvas up at a corner of my art room.

My art room is gigantic; it's almost like a conservatory and garage infused. It has high ceilings and grey walls—which have become increasingly colourful due to all the paint that has been splashed onto them through the years.

My mother wanted to turn this room into an indoor tennis court, but I wore her down as a child and convinced her to turn it into my art room.

Besides my car, this is another one of my safe places—my sanctuary.

I get seated on my stool and sigh, not knowing how to start. Then I hear a knock on the door. I don't bother looking behind me and just yell out a quick "Come in".

Surely, it's one of my maids. It can't be Kai because he's in after school detention. It can't be Tae either, because he is in music club; another reason why I can't just draw him for my project.

"So, you really do have a whole art room to yourself? That really is some rich people shit."

I know that voice—it's the same raspy and somehow soft voice that renders me mindless. My body instantly feels ten times hotter when I hear it. I would recognize that voice in a room full of a million other different voices.

I instantly snap my head around.

"Lisa? What are you doing here?"

She leans against the doorframe, her arms crossed.