It Started with Skinny Jeans

Prologue

Each painting had its own way of evolving. When the painting is finished, the subject reveals itself – William Bazioles

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Prologue

I shivered violently in the cool midnight air, as I anxiously watched the yellow light of a torch glow mere inches from me. I needed to get out of here and fast. Wrapping my arms about my half naked body, I made my way back to the spot where I’d left my clothing.

“Hey you, stop right there!” the familiar voice of my summer camp instructor called.

Damn, he caught me!

I froze, cringing at the ill fate I encountered upon this night. I needed to think fast. I needed to think up some excuse, something good too. Mr Randal was known to be a stickler when it came to the rules at Art Haven and a midnight dip was definitely one of the rules never, ever to be broken.

Okay Aria, just breathe and say the first thing that comes to mind to save your skinny behind.

I was about to turn and drop to my knees and beg not to be kicked out of this fine summer art programme when I heard Randal’s voice.

“Gotcha!” the glow of the torch was definitely not pointed in my direction and I could faintly make out the outline of the poor male teenager who’d gotten caught.

I breathed my thanks to God up above that I hadn’t been caught and wasted no time in completing my quest to find my clothing. I silently snuck along the river’s edge, back to the woods edge, leaving no evidence – expect a puddle of water in my wake – that I’d been there.

I reached the log just on the wood’s border, where I’d left my clothing only a few short minutes ago, only to find… nothing.

Panic rose within me. I was definitely, in no way about to run half naked through the forest, back to camp. Hey call me dramatic, but I’ve seen horror movies like this and it’s always the half-naked girl like me who ends up getting killed and I definitely wasn’t in the mood for dying tonight.

I was just about to give up when I heard Randal’s voice call out to another person, whom I couldn’t see in this thick blanket of darkness. “You head through the forest, while I’ll search the rest of the lake.”

This seemed to grab my attention. The thought of being caught my Randal was enough motivation to risk death by a crazed axe murderer. With only the bare minimum light of the full moon shining through the overhanging trees, I carefully made my way into the woods, trying to keep low.

I had only walked about a few feet in when my foot landed on something that wasn’t earth or leaves. I stopped in my haste and reached out to the softness I’d felt beneath my feet. Well, I can establish that it’s fabric, denim to be precise. I gasped. I was holding one leg to a pair of jeans.

In relief I pulled on the jeans, but felt a tug on the other end. I walked closer thinking it must have gotten snagged on a branch while one of the other kids were fleeing, but what I found on the other leg wasn’t a tree branch, but a human hand.

Scott Grayson

“This is mine.” He hissed, tugging on the jeans, but I held on tight.

“I saw them first, Grayson. Get your own.” I retorted, careful to keep my voice low.

“I beg to differ. I left my clothing here in case of emergency.” This time when he pulled at the jeans they slipped right out of my grasp.

I folded my hands over my bikini clad chest and scolded at him.

“These are my favourite jeans.” He explained, keeping his voice low.

“So because these are your favourite you’re not going to help me?” I stared at him dumbfounded, as he considered doing just that.

Can you believe him? He was actually considering not helping me out. After all his talk of wanting to be friends, I knew he was full shit. But no I had to listen to Raina and give him a chance.

How did I, Aria Jenson, get myself mixed up in situation that involved Scott Grayson? I mean here I am, half naked, shivering – in coldness or anger, I’m not sure – and all I can think about is how I always seem to get myself involved in these awkward moments with Scott.

Where did this all start? Was it when he first came into my life or when he first criticised my work, or maybe it’s when we had our first assignment together? Who knows, though I’m guessing it started the day he decided that my art was just good. Okay so maybe I agreed with him on that time, but other than that I’m pretty sure Scott Grayson has been nothing but an… asshole!

You are all probably thinking the guy is entitled to his opinion and he can’t be as bad as I make him sound, but trust me he’s worse.

You know what; I’ll tell you the story of how it all happened, of how I ended up here. Maybe, just maybe I’ll be able to figure out exactly what I did to deserve an egotistical maniac in my once normal and happy life.

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Hey guys!

This is basically my first attempt at writing about anything art related, which is funny cause I can't draw to save my life lol. If there are any mistakes, please let me know so I can make the change :)

Hope you enjoy what this story brings...