-
I watched intently at Garrett and Austin, not really having anything else to look at. It's like when you try to act distracted in the halls, because all of those bland faces seem to be burning holes through your shirt with their eyes.
Garrett spun back and walked my way. He was obviously moody, which was odd. On the ride here he was constantly biting back a grin, cracking jokes with me left and right. I knew it was flirting. I wasn't stupid, I just decided to play along. Harmless flirting. That's all it was.
"What'd he say to you?"
He shook his head and walked past me.
I hated that he left me hanging in this awkward position. I looked like an idiot when he didn't respond. My cheeks were growing high in temperature.
I kept walking and scurried to Austin. His appearance was different today oddly. Hair cleaner, face shaven. I could smell axe on him from a mile away.
"How are you today?"
He must've not realized I was walking with him, because he cocked his head up and immediately grinned.
"I'm fine. You?"
I nodded.
"I'm fine."
There was an awkward pause between us, but I could feel some odd tension. It definitely hadn't been there before. It was beginning to make the hairs on the nape of my neck stand up.
We continued to walk down the clean white strip of hallway, having to push and shove through the clumps of kids.
"You look really nice today." He blurted out. Stutters slipped from his lips.
"Uh- I mean not in the weird way. You always look nice."
He sighed and his eyes widened, rolling 360 degrees at his embarrassing remarks.
"It's okay! You look great too." I laughed, making light of the situation.
He smiled back at me. Our fingers accidentally brushed together while we walked. I jerked my hand back.
I was expecting him to say something really awkward, but he ignored it, actually trying to take it to another subject.
"So do you like painting?"
My heart raced. I absolutely adored painting. I've been painting ever since I was three years old, but my tools switched. It went from Crayola paints and fingers to oil pants and expensive brushes. I've worked desperate jobs just to have the opportunity to go buy some. The bristles feel nicer than normal hair, superhumanly smooth and irresistible. I have to feel them with my fingers.
"Yes! I love to paint. But canvases are so expensive-"
He looked puzzled at the thought of canvases. He patted me on the back, scoffing.
"Dude, don't waste your money. Canvases are EVERYWHERE,"
His voice raised when he said everywhere. A few heads turned at him to snicker, not that he ever cared. That's a good quality in him.
"You can paint on cardboard, paper, or even bodies. I know this is odd, but I love painting on anyone's back."
It had never even crossed my mind to paint on anything other than a canvas until now.
"Backs? That's awesome. You should paint mine sometime."
His eyes darted from the ground to me. His thick eyebrow rose high above his forehead.
What the hell did I just say.
I instantly blushed.
"Yeah maybe I should."
My breath hitched in my throat.
The ringing of the bell echoed through our ears, sending the conversation down the drain and making us focus on getting to class.
He turned around and left me at my locker.
My thumbs grasped the plastic lock and I began to twist it a few times before starting my combination.
"Hey are you hanging out with Garrett tonight?"
I looked up from my locker to see Austin leaning against the one beside mine.
"Yeah I am. You?"
He nodded.
"See you there. Maybe I can paint your back."
Chuckling, he backed away slowly a little bit before skidding off out of the hall.
My thoughts drifted off while I tried my combo again.
I wonder what he'd paint on me.
A blurry white object slipped out of my locker and fell to the floor. I let my vision adjust before squatting down to pick it up.
They were two notes folded perfectly in each other. I unfolded the first one. It was a drawing of me- perfectly detailed and sketched. The shading precise. My freckles even splattered in the right spots on my nose and cheeks. It was really beautiful, more beautiful than I could ever see myself as. I could still tell that it was me.
I opened the second one and began to read it, sitting down with my legs crossed on the floor. I reminded myself of when Austin sat in the middle of the hallway just to explain to me that art was embedded in everything we see on a daily basis. I had to admit, that it was really cute.
"Strands of hair fall against your face, my words are embedded with truth. You sprint the halls with such favored grace. I'm dying for something new. My brain repeats my salvaged thoughts of you and how you look. Taken back by words you breathe, tell me, tell me more.
- Sketch"
My heart began to beat abnormally crazy to the thought that someone was thinking of me like this. But who was it?
Was it Austin?
I realize I have to race to class. Time to put those thoughts aside.
I slammed my locker shut and sprinted to B hall.
I guess I'll have to find out tonight.
