ivy; s.m.

s e v e n

     "UM, hi." Shawn stuffed his hands in his pockets and shouldered by me into the house. I was stunned.

"Excuse me?" I grumbled, shutting the door behind him. He had wandered his way into the kitchen and was already digging his hands into a bowl of Doritos on the counter.

"I don't study, the only reason I'm here at all is because me mom is making me." He said bluntly.

"So what do you plan on doing, then?" I said, a little hurt. I set everything up and even bought snacks, and he couldn't care less.

Swallowing, he shrugged. "You're a painter, right?"

I blushed and nodded. How did he know that?

"Show me some art."

"Okay, then." I said, walking into the living room where my mural was still lying unfinished on the tile floor.

"Woah," he mumbled, walking around it, "this is pretty good."

"Thanks." I brushed a stray piece of hair out of my face and glanced up at the ceiling.

"What do you do?" I asked.

"You mean like sports?"

"Sure."

"Basketball, soccer, football." How could I guess?

"Unique," I said sarcastically. He rolled his eyes. Another agonizingly painful silence followed as he continued to sidestep around my art.

"What do you see in those weird girls you hang out with?" he asked.

"Who? Tessa and Angie and them?"

"Yeah, the other painter chicks."

"They're my friends..?" I answered, confused.

"You're pretty enough to be popular, you know." He said.

I blinked. Did I just hear him say that?

"Um, thanks? I think?"

He shrugged again. A man of little words. An annoying little dïck, too.

sorry so short, it's late and i'm tired. <(o-o)<