sweet//cameron dallas

ash tray

I painted galaxy's.
I painted hundreds and thousands of stars and planets. My paint brush swiped against the canvas almost everyday. Each day a different color. But I would always end up painting the same thing. My mother had asked me awhile ago why I had stacks of the same paintings piled up in my room. I had told her it was because each galaxy was different, and that each painting was different. She didn't understand, but I did. She did not need to understand.
Only I did.
Or so I thought.
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"You're crazy!" I laugh to Allison, my bestfriend who also happened to be my locker neighbor. We were currently discussing the difference between oil pastels and water colors. It was currently the end of the day, so the hallways were packed with kids. Everyone was coming towards us in these huge packs, so we leaned out selves against the lockers. I watched as everyone stared at us, looking us over like we were some kind of artwork hung in the MOMA. We looked more like something a six year old would draw and his mother would put on the fridge, in my opinion. We make out way through the stampede of kids, and I end up pinned against the wall next to the art room.
"Your grade is at 42 average. Now, how will you get your grade up? And no, failing is not an option or else you'll have to retake this class next year." I hear Miss. Recklone say. She always did this after school: scolding kids after school because of there low grades. I peek my head in the door to see who was getting scolded. I see a brown haired boy, standing with a black backpack on his back. I believe it was Cameron Dallas.
"Lily? Is that you? Why don't you come in."
"Uh no, I don't think that's..."
"Come in!" She insisted. I was nervous to walk on a kid being scolded by the teacher. I never liked watching these types of things. I grip onto the straps of my backpack and walk into the room, Cameron's head turning towards me.
"Cameron, this is Lily. She will be helping you in art." She tells me. Wait. What?
"Huh?" I say, looking at her.
"You're one of my best art students. I know it's a little sudden, but I would really appreciate it if you help him out with this class." She smiles at me, her nails tapping the desk. I close my eyes and grit my teeth.
"Yes. I would love to." I lie, planting a fake smile among my lips. She claps her hands and nods.
"Great! I know you can do it Cameron." She beams. He nods and walks out of the room, me following. The halls were empty now, and Allison was no where in site.
"She left you about 16 minutes ago. I'll be driving you home." He says, swinging the keys on his finger. I assume he was talking about Allison.
"I can't I ha-"
"You don't have anything. I know you don't have you're license yet, so how do you expect to get home?" He asks, his voice crisp. How did he know that? How did he know about Allison? He never payed attention to me.
"I'll just take the bus." I tell him. He nods his head, making his way towards his car.
"All the buses left already, sweetie. Now you either get in the car or you're walking home. And might I add, it looks like it is about to storm." He says, pointing to the sky. He was right.
"Okay." I tell him, opening the passengers side. I take a seat in the car, and admire the smell of it. It smelled just like how I imagined every boys car to smell: musky.
"Do you like my car?" He asks, putting the key in the ignition.
"Yeah. It's nice, I guess." I say, looking out the window.
"So about this whole art thing," he starts, pulling a box of cigarettes out of his pocket.
"There's no way. Uh uh. Stop the car." I tell him, unbuckling.
"What's wrong?" He asks while lighting the cigarette.
"I'm not sitting in here for another ten minutes, just to be smelling an ash tray. I'll walk from here." I say, as he pulls over. He pulls the cigarette our of his mouth, and drops it onto the road.
"Look. I need to pass this fucking art class one way or the other. It's either you smell my cigarette for ten minutes, or I'll tell the whole school that you asked me out and I denied it. I don't think you want that. Do you?" He asks me. I think about it for a second. If he were to tell the school that, I would be scarred for life.
Cameron has never turned down a girl.
I shake my head and cross my arms over my chest.
"That's what I thought." He smirks, pulling out another cigarette. He lights it again, and puts it between his teeth.
"As I was saying." I roll my eyes and look at my feet.
"I hear you're pretty good at art."
"Uh huh. I guess that's true."
"So you think you can help me pass this class?" He asks. I shrug, my eyes wandering his car. A picture of a girl hung from the mirror above the radio, along with a Hawaii post card. To my left, there was a stack of CDs. About twenty of them just sitting there. The one on the top was a vampire weekend album.
"If you actually try, instead of skipping all of the projects and going out to party's."
"Hey. In my opinion a party is much more fun than a stupid art project." He says, blowing out a puff of smoke. I turn my face away, coughing from the fumes.
"No girl wants to kiss a boy that smokes, I hope you know that. And those things are basically killing you."
"Quit acting like a health teacher and lighten up." He says, punching my shoulder.
"Just turn here." I say, pointing to the street. He makes the turn, and I tell him to park in front of my house.
"Nice house." He says, tapping his hands on the steering wheel.
"Uh thanks?" I say, as he turn to his left so his face is hidden. I hear a cap snap open, and I immediately jump.
He was going to try to kiss me, wasn't he?
"I gotta go." I say, trying to open the door. I pull and I pull, but the door won't budge. That bastard locked the door.
"Cameron I'm not going to kiss you." I tell him, crossing my arms. He starts laughing, and then turns towards me, showing me the tube of Chapstick.
"My lips were chapped. I do not want to kiss you." He smiles.
"Good. Because I did not want to kiss you either. Anyways, let's get started on all of the art projects you have missed." I tell him pulling the door. Still no budge.
"Cameron would you open the door?" I ask him, watching him take out the keys.
"Uh, Lily? You're supposed to push the door. Not pull." He smirks, slamming his door which causes me to jump. I step out and walk to the front of the house, knocking on the bright yellow door. My Mother loved bright colors. She opens of up, her hair messy and her clothes old and dirty. She was wearing one of my fathers old tee shirts that said "NEW YORK GIANTS" across the chest. Her jeans had paint splatters on it, and her hands looked like she needed a major manicure.
"Hello Lily. Who's this?" She asks, pointing to Cameron. I roll my eyes and step aside so she could get a a full look at him.
"I'm Cameron. Nice to meet you." He smiles, putting out his hand. She shakes it and smiles at him. We walk into the house and up the stairs, as he follows me to my room. We step inside, and I can hear Cameron sniffing around.
"What are you doing?" I ask him, putting my bag on the bed.
"Your room smells so familiar." He says, sweeping his fingers across my dresser.
"Maybe that's because you've been in so many other girls rooms before." I laugh, taking out my art folder from my backpack.
"You're a bitch. I have only dated 9 people in my life anyways."
"Want to guess how many people I've dated? Zero." I say, laughing again.
"Oh well congrats. You've never had abdomen heart then, I suppose." He says, sitting next to me.
"Never. Is it bad?" I ask. He laughs and nods.
"Oh yeah. Hurts more than cramps." He says, holding his stomach and falling back on the bed.
"How do you know what cramps feel like?"
"Have you forgotten already? I've dated nine girls." He tells me, holding up nine fingers.
"So who will be the lucky ten, then? I suppose Jessica Sanders. Oh, or maybe Mandy Hosborne?" I say, pressing the eraser of the pencil to my lip.
"Oh fuck them. They're worse than you!" He smiles. I laugh, and show him the rubric for the project. He looks over the paper, his eye brow twitching up.
"Create a painting using something other than a canvas? What the hell is this? Bullshit that's what." He says, crumpling up the paper and throwing it into the trash.
"Oh c'mon. This was my favorite project." I say, uncrumpling the paper. He looks at the watch on his wrist and his eyes widen.
"Sorry, but I have to go." He says, standing up and rushing out the door.
"Wait! What about the projects?" I yell, watching him walk out the the door. He walks in front of me, and kisses my cheek.
"Fuck the projects. We can start tomorrow." He whispers, then gets in his car and drives away.