Typical - A Lesbian Romance [NaNoWriMo 2013] // ON HOLD

Chapter Six

Author's Note: Sorry for geting a little behind on posting these! I got a little lazy over week one but I'm back on track for week two!

I hope you enjoy the latest chapter and there will certainly be more to come over the week :)

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I learned that night in Chelsea’s studio what I had to do to never be unheard again. When she placed that can of paint in my hand I just had that gut feeling that made me sure that somewhere deep down under myself depreciating exterior that really I had what it took be an artist, even though I had never considered it before in my life. As cliché as it probably sounded, that can of spray paint just felt like it belonged in my hand, that it was an extension of me that I never knew I had needed. I felt that this was something I just had to do and at that time I had never been more sure about a single thing in my entire life. This was something I knew was going to be a part of me for as long as I was breathing. It happened to call out to me that night as my eyes traced the intricate designs that Chelsea decorated all of those walls in her studio with and it wasn’t going to let me go anything soon. It was something dangerous, daring, and unconventional; it was the exact opposite of everything that made me who I was and it attracted me to know end. I just felt that pull that anyone with a strong passion can spot from a mile away. I just somehow knew that this was what in some form I was meant to do and having that direction was something that to this day I’ll always be thankful for.

Although knowing was really only about a quarter of the battle. I had no absolute clue after that night what I was going to do with the information that I had discovered about myself. It wasn’t like I could have just gone up to my parents and casually introduce in conversation that I was going to do street art; Correction: that I felt like I had to do street art. This was something that I knew, without having to be told, would always remain a large part of my life that I had to keep secret. But really, how was that any different than the way I was already living up until that point? I buried my personality years ago in place of an image that I thought I really needed to get people to like me. So what would be the problem with one more minor secret that I had to keep? Absolutely nothing if you asked me.

That night after Chelsea placed that can of paint in my hand, and made me realize that I simply couldn’t keep hiding without a voice of my own, we spent hours in her studio. She showed me her stencils, explained to me in detail what each and every work of hers meant, and didn’t even wait for me to ask before she told me how she made each and every one of them. Seeing Chelsea light up about the art that she created really got me more attracted to the idea, but it also made me more attracted to her. There’s something that you can’t seem to kick once you see a person absolutely let down all of their defenses when they tell you about something they love. Their eyes light up, their smile is actually more than real, and you can just fell all of the happiness radiating off of them. I didn’t leave that storage unit that night just with an image of what my future held for me in terms of, let’s say hobbies, I also left knowing very well that without Chelsea by my side I wasn’t going to be able to do it.

So a few days later on Monday night as I sat on one of the tables in Chelsea’s studio I chewed on my lip as I thought up thousands of possibilities. From things like just simply jumping into the art to asking Chelsea out on second date, I thought about it all.

“ Sophie” Chelsea shouted over the music blaring from her iPhone on the table beside me. I had to stop for jumping as I was violently ripped from the thoughts that it felt like I had stuck inside of for hours.

I quickly recovered. “ Yeah Chel?” I glanced over to where she was standing outside of the front of the storage container curiously. She had a large wooded board propped up on some plastic crates outside; both of her old converse covered in overspray from the can of paint. She held the red colored can in one of her hands and the other was pulling the white mask that covered her mouth down so she could speak to me. Her messy pony tail started to come undone and long strands of her bleached hair hung in her dark eyes, other’s graced the shoulder of the plain black sweatshirt she chose to wear tonight to protect the clothes she actually liked. Even dressed in the simple outfit she had on, just the sweatshirt and a plain black pair of jeans, she still looked absolutely lovely.