This Crazy Thing Called Love

19: The Sugar High

19: The Sugar High

After my movie date with Nolan the following Saturday, the only time I ever got to see him in the following weeks were in Art class. But even then, both of us seemed to be preoccupied with other things going on in our lives. I was too caught up in trying to catch up with my favourite television shows, doing my homework, studying more than necessary for Physics, and trying to keep Irene from burning down the world.

"What happened to your arm?" Nolan asked, gesturing towards the red mark on my skin. He looked up to meet my gaze and I could tell that he was very concerned.

I snorted. "Irene attacked me," I replied.

"Ugh, why?"

I let out a laugh as I got out my brushes and turned to face my painting in front of me on the easel. "She's going through a phase," I simply stated. "You know... the awkward years? The hormones? The--"

I didn't even need to finish my sentence to get my point across to Nolan. He just looked at me, sighed, and held up the palm of his hands to indicate for me to stop. "I get it, Isabella," he told me. "Girl problems. No need to get into details."

I grinned. "So what have you've been doing lately?" I asked, changing the subject.

Nolan shrugged. "Working on the mural, that's all."

"Is it almost done?"

Nolan looked at me and smiled. "It should be ready by the end of the month--"

"Can I see what it looks like so far after school today?" I asked, perking my shoulders up like a child asking for candy. It had been weeks already since I last saw the mural and quite frankly, I was really curious to what it looked like and what Nolan added to it that he didn't want me to see just yet.

Nolan's lips immediately pulled down into a slight frown at my question as he looked back to the painting in front of him. At the moment, our art class was working on an abstract piece we had been work on for the past month. As usual, the two of us were ahead of schedule compared to everybody else in the room and there was a good chance we would be finished by Monday. 

"It's not ready yet, though," Nolan responded, looking back to meet my gaze. There was a softness to his face as he said it, and it was in that moment that I begin to question myself as to why I could have ever seen him as somebody remotely scary.

I shrugged. "I don't mind. I just want to--"

"No," Nolan persisted. "Y-You can see it. Not now, at least."

I pouted. "Nolan."

Nolan looked at me and smirked. "Izzy." 

I let out a loud huff as I averted my gaze away from Nolan and back to to painting. "Fine," I said, stubbornly. "Be like that."

"Are you trying to make me feel guilty or something? 'Cause it's not going to work," Nolan stated, laughingly.

"Jerk."

"Nerd."

Annoyed, I took my paintbrush, dipped into the red paint, and bent the the bristles of the brush and let go of it so that the paint would hit Nolan's face. Almost immediately, his eyes widened as he brought up his hand to touch his cheek and looked down to examine the red paint that he must have thought was blood for a moment because he looked confused as hell. When the poor guy realized that it was just paint, he looked up to me and playfully rolled his eyes. "You're still not going to see the mural," Nolan said, sighing. "Nothing you say or do will change my mind." He shot a smile in my direction as if it would charm me into forgiving him.