The Cinderella Project

f i v e

Tia's POV

I can't actually put all these feelings I'm having right now into words, since it's just too indefinable.  I remembered I was just painting like usual when something decided to happen.

Some nice and what not.

I was standing there in front of my unfinished painting, dozing off into the space. Since Thomas came into the gallery yesterday, I couldn't keep myself to think straight.

I've knocked down the coffee on the table, I've thrown my coat off to the wrong side, and I've even dropped my favorite creampuffs.

Now that's terribly wrong.

I kept starring at the painting in front of me, trying to find that perfect idea to come up, but no. I kept on getting stuck.

Ever since yesterday, I couldn't take my minds off of the invitation Thomas had given. I was finding my own way of saying no to him, but then my interest lands back to the document he told me about.

Why did I try so hard to say no? Well, basically because I couldn't stop thinking of how stupid it was to even enter these kinds of things. Obviously, I liked how my life is right now.

But something he said made me wonder, was it actually that worth the try? I sat down at my couch and grabbed the documents, and silently I start to read it on. I wanted to know how it goes from his point of view.

And of course, after reading it for a few minutes, it successfully messed up my mind. There was an interesting part here in the contract; it says that whomever the winner is they'll get a huge amount of money, and that they would share it with their own choices.

It kind of made me rethink this whole situation. But eventually I kept my mind on the rules I've made since forever. Let's just stick to the rules; it'll be okay.

I think.

"Aaargh!" I screamed out my confusion, ruffling my hair. I have to keep in mind that Mr. C is waiting for my painting.

Even if I did accept Thomas' invitation, which definitely I would not, I wouldn't be quite as happy as I am right now. I can keep on living my painting life, continuing painting for those people who appreciate my paintings. I don't even know if Thomas likes my paintings.

Surely I cannot live with somebody who doesn't appreciate art either. Art is everything to me. I would rather be with someone like Mr. C. Okay that sounded weird, since I don't even know his face.

"Bloody hell, I need to relax."

And I made my way towards the couch, grabbing my laptop from the desk. "Let's just watch some Netflix,"

For about one hour later I found myself laughing at some random comedy movie I picked. My alarm went off, telling me that it's time to continue the painting. Netflix really did make me relax.

The next thing I knew I was waking up from the sunlight that reached my workshop and the stiffness I felt on my neck. I did some stretching for about ten minutes, "Awh, that's really good."

I reached for my phone because Alex Turner is singing Arabella for me. "Yellow,"

"Um, hello?" Paul said and he did some coughing.

"You good, Paul?" I asked him in concern.

"Yea-" another bad cough, "Well, no. Here's the thing,"

I nodded to myself when I knew that he was sick and he couldn't come to pick up the painting. "Shoot me,"

"I caught a bad fever. And here's another thing," he said, his voice broke in the end.