Tackling the Canvas

Chapter 4

Owen

I can't fucking concentrate. I'm supposed to be focused on this accounting test right now, but all I can think about is the way her lips felt—warm, soft, and completely unexpected. The second they touched my skin, it was like my brain short-circuited. I didn't know what to do. I just stood there, frozen, right in front of her dorm door. My feet wouldn't move, like I was glued to the spot, and my mind... It was chaos. A freaking apocalypse of thoughts.

What the hell did that mean? Was it just a casual thing? A thank-you-for-walking-me-to-my-dorm kiss? Or was there something more behind it? I couldn't figure it out, and now I'm stuck here in this classroom, staring at this damn test, but all I see is her—her eyes, her smile, the way she looked at me right before she kissed me.

I'm screwed.

Two hours of pure nightmare, and I probably failed the test—because of her. I–

"Hello there, mate," Ethan's voice broke through my spiraling thoughts, his usual smirk in place as he strolled up. "How was the test?"

"It was..." I trailed off, thinking about how I'd spent the entire time thinking about Nora instead of answering questions. Horrible. I'm definitely failing. "Fine, I guess. I mean, it's just a test." I shrugged, trying to play it off like it didn't matter.

I wasn't in the mood for Ethan to start giving me grief, mocking me over getting worked up because of a simple kiss on the cheek—like some teen boy. It was no big deal, right? Just a kiss. But damn, it's been messing with my head all day.

___

After about an hour of hard practice, I yanked my helmet off, feeling the sweat run down my face. Ethan and Jasper were busy tackling each other, laughing like idiots, which made me chuckle under my breath. Typical.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted her. Black, sleek hair caught the sunlight, and I squinted, trying to get a better look. It was Nora. She was sitting in the stands, scribbling away in a sketchbook. Her hair was tied up in a high ponytail, with a few loose strands falling in front, and she was wearing a white cardigan over her jeans. She looked... stunning.

I guess she must have felt me staring because she lifted her head, glancing in my direction. I couldn't help but give a small wave, and she returned it with a smile that was almost too brief to catch but enough to make me grin.

"Is she your girlfriend, Cap?!" Ethan's voice boomed from across the field. My eyes widened, and I shot him a cold glare. Without a word, I started stomping toward him, and of course, that's when he took off running. I chased after him, ignoring everything else, though I could swear I heard Nora laughing softly from the stands.

After practice, I glanced back toward the stands, but she was gone. With a heavy breath, I headed to the locker room, feeling the ache in my muscles as I reached behind my neck to peel off my shirt and shoulder pads. Once in the showers, I stood under the warm water, letting it wash away the sweat and tension.

"Owen, I'm sorry I scared your girl off," Ethan's voice echoed from outside. I rolled my eyes, deciding not to respond. He just wouldn't let it go.

When I stepped out, I threw on a black tee and some sweatpants. As I finished packing my duffle, Ethan tried again, "Hey, I—"

"She's not my girl. Just my tutor. So drop it," I cut him off, my voice firm, slinging the duffle bag over my shoulder before heading out.

Walking through the parking lot, I spotted my truck, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw her leaning against it, a small smile on her lips.

"Hello, big guy," she chuckled, and her voice made something inside me relax.

"Nora, hi—I thought you left," I raised an eyebrow, clearly confused but not at all disappointed. Why was she still here?

"By the way, forgive my friend," I added, running a hand through my hair. "He can be so... mentalmente carente." I muttered the last part, slipping into Italian. I wasn't used to using it much, not like my father, but I loved throwing it in for insults—or celebrations.

She raised an eyebrow at the Italian, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Mentalmente carente, huh? Well, I wasn't scared off, if that's what you're worried about." She laughed softly.

I couldn't help but grin a bit as I walked up to her. She straightened up, a small shift in her posture as I got closer. "I just came here to ask if you wanted to go somewhere... I finished my classwork a while ago, so..." she trailed off, her eyes flicking up to meet mine for a moment before glancing away.

"Sure," I replied simply, my grin widening.

"Wanna— I don't know, go to that small coffee shop down the street?" she asked, biting her bottom lip, a habit I was starting to notice. My eyes dropped for a split second, catching how her soft, light-pink lips darkened to a slight red as her teeth grazed against them.

I cleared my throat, forcing myself to stay focused. "Yeah, that sounds good," I said, my voice a little lower than I intended. I noticed the way her eyes lingered on mine, and for just a moment, it felt like everything around us faded into the background.

___

"After you, ma'am," I said in a playful, mocking gentleman tone as I held the door open to the small coffee shop. She rolled her eyes but smiled as she stepped inside. We found a small table by the window and sat down. She ordered a tea with oat milk—something I never quite understood—while I stuck with a strong espresso.

"You actually like tea with milk?" I asked, trying not to sound too disgusted. I'd never been a fan of that combination, and my face probably gave it away.

"My mother's English. I grew up with it," she replied with a shrug, fingers fiddling with the sugar packets on the table.

"Ah, that explains it," I said, smirking a little. I leaned back, tilting my head slightly as I thought about earlier. "So... what were you sketching?" I asked casually, my eyes narrowing a bit in curiosity. "At the stands," I added when she hesitated.

She glanced away for a moment. "Uh, nothing really..." she trailed off, her voice quieter. Something about the way she avoided the question made me more curious.

"Nothing, huh?" I pressed, raising an eyebrow.

With a big sigh, she bent down and reached for her sketchbook, sliding it across the table without saying a word. I took it with a smirk, flipping it open, already impressed by the weight of the thing alone. As I turned through the pages, my eyes widened. God damn, she's good. The drawings were incredibly detailed, each line sharp, every shadow perfectly placed.

But when I reached the last drawing, I froze. It was me. Running on the ice, mid-play, like she had captured a moment in time and poured it onto the paper. Every detail—my stance, my jersey, even the way my muscles tensed as I skated—it was all there, right in front of me.

The amount of precision and care she had put into every stroke left me speechless. It wasn't just a sketch—it was like she'd captured the intensity of the game, the rush of adrenaline I felt during a match.

"Wow..." I muttered, completely blown away. "This is amazing. How are you so good at it?"

I glanced up at her, and there was that faint flush on her cheeks, a little shy but proud too. "I've been drawing since I was little. Took some classes... and I guess I got better over time," she said with a small smile, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Better?" I chuckled softly, shaking my head. "Nora, you're more than just 'good.' This is incredible."

"Thanks," she replied softly.

Authors Note: 

Short Chapter, please I'd love to hear what you think!