Avi Kaplan: A Collection of Short Stories

Drawn With Love

You hold your sketchpad close to your chest, sneaking furtive glances at Avi while you worked.

Mitch practically dragged you to the rehearsal for their upcoming tour proclaiming, "I might literally die if I don't see you before tour and if that happens then Scott is the only male lead and absolutely no one wants that."

Your attempts to brush him off failed and he showed up at your door regardless to pick you up, a hyper Scott in tow. Sitting in the back seat behind Scott, Mitch turned and tossed you a pack of pencils. "Here, you can draw something while you watch," he said with a smirk, giving you a knowing look.

Narrowing your eyes, you glared at him and wordlessly shoved the pencils into your purse. Drunkenly admitting to Mitch you found Avi attractive was the worst mistake of your life and it was a fact he never let you live down.

Shifting in your seat, you bring your knees up to your chest and sink a bit further into the couch, finishing drawing the slope of Avi's nose. Peering over the edge of your sketchpad, you catch Avi's eyes and he gives you a small wave. You're thankful he can't see the flush creep onto your cheeks and you wave back.

From the corner of your eye you spot Mitch waggling his eyebrows and a few seconds later you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. Pulling it out and looking down, you read Mitch's text: I hope you're keeping those drawings PG.

You hate him.

+++

Avi almost saw your drawings of him once and you were surprised you didn't instantly burst into flames and have your ashes scattered into the wind out of sheer embarrassment.

To be fair, you made the mistake of leaving your sketchpad unattended while you went to grab a drink, so this was approximately forty percent your fault, fifty percent Avi's fault and ten percent Mitch's fault (just because).

Avi sits on the couch, one leg crossed over his knee, flipping through the pages of your drawings as he pops some chips into his mouth. Your skin prickles in fear and your stomach feels like it bottomed out into your ass. You cross the room in two huge steps, muttering, "no, no, no" under your breath and grab the sketchpad from his hands. Avi startles and blinks up at you.

"Sorry," you mumbled, praying he didn't see any of the drawings of his face, or hands or dear God, of his mouth. "I don't like people seeing my stuff."

"Why not?" he asks, stuffing another chip into his mouth. "You draw very well."

You wave him off, clutching your drawings to your chest. "Toddler's scribbles, really."

Avi seems a bit sad and Jesus, he's actually making you feel a tad guilty for not sharing your doodles with him. Sighing, you sit next to him and carefully flip through the pages. You pause on a drawing you did of the five of them sitting around discussing an arrangement. Glancing up at Avi, he gives you an eager look and you hesitantly turn the page around.

His eyes widen in surprise and that stupid smile on his face makes your humiliation right now all worth it. You let him take the drawing in his hands, ready to pounce should his fingers stray and turn additional pages. "Hey, you drew me with my ring on," he muses happily, looking at you.

You snort. "Of all the things you notice..." you trail off with a grin.

"Could I have a copy of this?" he asks, looking back at the drawing.

You feel your cheeks flush and you refrain from burying your face in your hands. "Oh, I, uh—" you stutter and good Lord, you're a babbling fool.

"It's fine if you don't want to, it's just...this is really cool," he states, handing you back your sketchbook.