Guardian | Camp Cretaceous

Things Fall Apart

Yasmina hesitated at the door, hugging her sketchbook to her chest as she stared at Sammy's back.

Earlier that day, she'd admittedly been a touch bitchy towards the bubbly girl. But what else was she meant to do? As if Yasmina Fadoula would just be alright with being thrust into an unwanted conversation with someone who could sit there and talk for hours on end. At first, Yaz had thought she and Sammy would never—ever—get along, but Sammy was... actually pretty awesome. Especially after she'd calmed down the sinoceratops.

It was what Sammy said during that which prompted Yasmina to decide to start opening up to her. But how would the athlete do that? A dozen ideas had bounced around her thoughts before Yasmina settled on showing the younger girl her sketches, all the while finally answering Sammy's questions from earlier properly.

A sigh escaped her lips, and she took a step outside.

When she stopped beside the younger girl, Yasmina hugged her book even tighter as Sammy looked at her. Clearing her throat and forcing herself to look at the Texan, Yaz said, "I... If everyone had just listened to you and Az—if I had listened, we wouldn't have had any problems." The worried-as-shit look in Azriel's eyes would be something Yasmina would never forget, nor the bone-chilling anger in his words as he scolded them. "So, my favourite colour is black, my favourite food is pizza, and..." She anxiously tapped her book against her head. "This is what I was doing, before."

The Texan took her sketchbook and flipped through the drawings while the athlete explained, "I started drawing to kill time during tack meets." Sometimes, whenever she'd get shipped out to compete without her team, Yaz pretended to be deaf while she drew, so she wouldn't be bothered. "I'm not that good, so you probably won't even like them."

There was a long break in the conversation before Sammy said, "I don't like them." Yasmina chewed her lip, feeling a little like she wanted to bolt back inside and hide under her blankets for the rest of summer. "I love them!"

Yasmina looked at the younger girl with surprise, but Sammy was grinning down at a drawing that had heat creeping up the athlete's neck to paint her face red. It was the drawing of Azriel, the one where he stood by the railing, smiling at the stars above him with his hands in the pockets of his coat. She wished she could colour it in, but she didn't think to bring her pencils.

"You made him look like a god," Sammy pointed out teasingly. But Yasmina had just drawn him as she'd seen him at that time. Sammy turned to the next page, the one of him laying on the couch, and the girl laughed. "Dang, maybe he really is one of your French girls." Yasmina blushed again, like she'd blushed when she'd said that earlier.

She'd just blurted it out without thinking—was she really that comfortable with Azriel already?

"Seriously, though," Sammy continued. "These are incredible, Yasmina. If you ever switched your career, you have to go into art." Yasmina tugged a strand of her hair and averted her eyes, oddly happy someone liked her art. Not that it was something she wanted to pursue professionally, but as a hobby? "Woah, whose horse is that?"

Yaz snatched her book and shut it harshly, feeling like she just dipped her head into a burning furnace. "No one was ever supposed to see that!" She felt unclean that someone had seen that one. "I thought I burned it last night."

Sammy grinned at her. "You have a wicked imagination, Yaz."

"Please shut up," Yasmina whimpered. "I don't need to be reminded that I'm a pervert..."

"Oh, come on," she replied giddily. "Azriel would find it hilarious, and you know it. Heck, I bet he'd even model for you in person just for the fun of it." Yasmina grumbled, causing Sammy to laugh loudly.