TCC [h.s.] ✔

auctions & unexpected meetings

》sorry if there are any mistakes or typos.

That day Carissa texted me to tell me there was going to be an auction that evening and that we could go after school. I wasn't really into it but I decided to go anyways.

When I told Jack my plans when I saw him in the hall I saw him pouting and then told me to have fun. Before we said goodbye to each other, he pecked on my lips briefly. 

We arrived at the auction house for about five minutes late. My dad's girlfriend, Rebecca, told everyone it was because of the traffic and they all believed her. My father and I sat as she got things in order and settled down the crowded room.

The first few pieces she auctioned off went quickly but when it came to an old rug that looked like someone had taken a crap all over it, things started to slow a bit. As she spoke, her voice seemed to carry on like an old record player being slowed.

When it was finally over, Carissa and I mingled for a while; moving from white room to white room looking at different paintings and artifacts. I left my parents to look at some painting with a weird red smear on it.

"Very unique, isn't it?" A man asked from behind me.

It was Mr. Styles. I jumped at his sudden appearance.

"Sorry," he said giving me an apologetic smile, which made me falter a bit. He was so handsome.

"It's alright," I told him. I moved out of his way and continued to stare at the painting, trying to ignore his presence. I was so nervous.

"Do you like it?" He asked.

I tilted my head to the left. "I'm not sure. It-it looks like a blood smear. As if someone reached their bloody handout and just wiped it on a piece of paper. No, I don't like this. It's too... simple."

I looked up to see him holding back a smile. He nodded his head and said, "Interesting. May I ask your opinion on these?" He pointed to three more.

One was a black and white photo of a small girl. She was crying over her dead dog's body, or rather what was left of it. It looked as if the dog had been run over. Another was a painting of a naked woman, but she was grotesque. Her limbs and features were in the wrong places and her eyes were dark red with black circles around them. The other was a painting of a Gothic home. Not Gothic like the new frenzy of metal, but a classic European feel. Red streaks ran from the windows making it look menacing.

"Is this all the same person?" I asked.

He nodded.

"I like them all. The girl, she shows a strong sadness and I can feel her pain. The woman, she's strange, shows we are not perfect. The circles around her eyes say she's tired of striving to be that way. And the house says don't come knocking if you hear any screams. It makes me think of domestic violence, maybe?"

He stared at me for a minute, green eyes inquisitive, and then asked, "How old are you, Ms. Eveers?"

"Seventeen," I replied a little shyly as to why my teacher was asking my age.

He was older than I was by a few years, though I wasn't sure how many, and taller than me by a few feet. I found myself constantly looking up at him. His short brown hair reached the tip of his ears but looked a little strange on him seeing as he looked about twenty-eight. It made me wonder if he was going through a midlife crisis early. He wore jeans that seemed to be a bit too loose on him and a black shirt with white stripes.

To be honest he didn't look like he belonged in this setting. Everyone else was dressed in slacks, ties, and heels, but him? Sneakers?

This was not the Mr. Styles I'm used to seeing every day at school.

"You think differently than that of a teenager. Your mind seems to be... ahead of the game so to speak."

"I get that a lot." I shrugged. I still was nervous, like really nervous. 

Where the hell was Carissa when I wanted her around?