The pastors son, Ezekiel Monroe, is a quiet, shy, yet socially awkward teenager, who befriends the boy next door who is the complete opposite, who's name is Corey Brewster. He's loud, he's outgoing, and good with people. The two seem like an odd mat...
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I brushed my teeth before rinsing my mouth out with mouthwash and smiling at myself in the mirror. I dropped my fake smile and did it again trying to make it look more natural. I'm failing.
I sighed and walked out of my bathroom and into my bedroom. I put on my clothes after putting on lotion and sat down on my bed. I picked up my phone not seeing any new messages or calls which was to be expected because I don't have friends really. And even though my dad was gone for the day I still didn't have any texts or calls from him. I mean what would he even need to call me about anyway?
I grabbed my easel and my canvas and sat it on my balcony before grabbing my paint and laptop. I sat it on the table I had outside and put on a TV show. It was called Chicago Med and I really was enjoying it.
I looked around outside before spotting a big tree and settled on painting it.
I grabbed a paintbrush out of my easel's drawer and painted looked through my paint trying to find the perfect color. Not too light, but not too dark.
I heard the door next door open making me look over to see Corey waving at me.
"Hi," I replied before turning back to my canvas.
"Whatchu about to paint?" He asked me as I looked over at him. He had his hair pulled into a ponytail with a few strands hanging out and no shirt. Does he ever wear shirts? And he has tattoos? He's only 18 and that's a sin. Hopefully, god forgives him.
"That big tree right there," I told him pointing straight ahead at the huge tree.
"Can you paint people?" He asked me as I nodded my head quietly. "Can you paint me?"
"Right now?" I asked him as I started on my background.
"Yea. I need a painting of myself for my room. I think that'll be fire," he spoke as I looked over at him.
"Where's your shirt?" I asked him.
"It's hot as fuck out here," he spoke before laughing making me cringe slightly at the use of the f-word. He has a potty mouth.
"Ok...I don't really know what you look like up close so I can't paint your face," I spoke as he laughed.
"You could always come over to my house. I mean I live right here I could always come over to your-,"
"No! You can't come over here...maybe I just shouldn't paint your portrait. I'm sorry," I told him as he chuckled.
"Why can't I come over? Is it because imma sinner?" He asked me as I looked over at him.
"Yes. My father wouldn't approve," I told him as he smiled at me.
"But you would?" He asked me as I looked at him before looking back at my picture.
"You need to worry about if God approves. I wouldn't say I do though...or don't. It's your life," I told him as he smirked at me.
"So...God doesn't love all his kids?" He asked me as I nodded my head.
