Muse

Fourteen ~ Easel

I'd like to dedicate this chapter to @nomophopic for being such a great reader. Thanks for voting and commenting!

Easel |'ezel| noun; a self-supporting wooden frame for holding an artist's work while it is being painted or drawn. –New Oxford American Dictionary

Chapter fourteen; easel

I blink several times at my reflection before I can actually begin processing my thoughts. It's as if thinking of Arthur as anything more than a good friend stops my brain with an uncomfortable jolt, paired with a numbing of nerves and fast breaths.

     After releasing a shaky breath and straightening my poster, I close my eyes and release a whispered prayer, "God, seeing Arthur as anything more than a friend in kinda weird but...maybe also a little exciting so...have your will and your way in this situation because I know you have a plan for every area of my life. Thanks."

      When my eyes open I don't see some shining neon sign in front of my face telling me any answers but that's not what prayers are about. Prayers, for me at least, are more for telling him you're submitting to what he knows you'll be happy with rather than asking him for what you think is best in your current situation.

      And I can honestly say that after talking to him, I always feel much better...and that's really all I'm expecting.

      Anyway, now is the time to face my discomfort and just ignore any remaining thoughts. There's no rush for anything...there is nothing wrong with being good friends before pursuing anything more, right?

      I shrug to myself before cracking opening the door once more to reveal Arthur waiting on the other side with a crooked grin and goodies in each arm, tucked securely to his chest.

      I release a surprised squeak and hold my hand to my chest before releasing a relieved breath.

      "You scared me." I laugh at myself for being so jumpy.

       He raises his eyebrows and gives me an apologetic smile. "Sorry. I just...need someone to open the door for me." He shrugs his arms upwards to gesture towards the snacks piled together.

      "Ooohh, what do we have here?" I almost cringe at how embarrassing I sound but forget about it when I see the Sour Punch Straws.

      My eyes widen. "May I?" I point timidly at the candy and I watch as an amused twinkle creeps into his eyes.

      "Why not? I picked them for you anyway. They're not my favorite."

      My eyes widen in genuine shock. "Really? How could you not like them? They're like a sour, sweet, and fruity party in your mouth. Have you really given them a chance?" I enquire with a hopeful expression on my face as I tilt my neck slightly upwards to gauge his response.

      Another apologetic cringe is all I get. "Sorry, but yeah. Several times to be exact and they never get much better. I'm more of a chocolate, peanut butter, toffee kind of guy. Most of the time...I have a bit of a weakness for Sour Patch Kids but shh, don't tell." He winks and I find myself laughing a little.

      The light hearted twinkle in his eye causes all stress and confusion I may have had a few moments ago to melt away.

      There's no point in worrying myself over feelings I may or may not have. In this instance, I'm just going to live in the moment and not think about what could happen in the future.

      "Your secret is safe with me...for a small fee that is."

       My brain practically freaks out on me at how dumb I sound and I do my best to keep a smile on my face.