Senseless

paint me a picture

There were a few bridges and alleyways that were almost outside of Madison. I did a lot there because it was hard to get in trouble in a place where street art was the least of cops' worries. It was a little scary at night, but I managed.

"You come here after dark?" Nash asked in disbelief.

"Yes," I said indignantly. "Is that a problem?"

"Just surprised, that's all," he murmured. "I didn't think princesses came to these places."

"It's not that surprising," I snapped.

"It is. Trust, me, princess, it takes a lot to surprise me." I was slightly offended at being called a princess. After all, he lived in a house that was just as big and pretty as mine, and if I wasn't mistaken, he was wearing designer jeans.

"Well, good for you," I muttered. "Most people are still pretty shocking to me," I added under my breath. If he heard, he didn't acknowledge it. He faced the bricked wall and looked at all the art on it. It was faded and in quite depressing colors, save for one or two works.

"Let me guess. One of those is yours?" He gestured to the more vibrant pieces. I glared at him before gesturing to mine. It was a picture of diamonds with rust on the corners and bottom. "I should have known," he said with a smirk. "Let's see... Is this one protesting the refusal of your dad buying you those diamond earrings—"

"Shut up," I snapped, my eyes narrowed. "I'm sorry if my version of art is different than yours, but you don't have to go and make fun of my painting. At least I didn't throw a pile of spaghetti on a bed and call it art."

"It is art." He smirked, cocking an eyebrow. I hadn't expected him to know what I was talking about. "Just not the same type of art we may be used to. It's a statement, not a beautiful painting."

I crossed my arms and looked at my piece. I was particularly proud of it because it had been hard to get the colors in at the same time as making it look shiny. I also had to incorporate the rust, which was hard.

"Tell me, princess, do diamonds even rust?"

My jaw clenched and I ignored him. "Just take the pictures and let's go."

"We still have to get more than just this piece." His scoff was obvious in his voice and I looked at him from the corner of my eye.

He was smirking at me as if he knew he was driving me insane. He probably did.

He turned and found angles at lighting he found appropriate and snapped pictures. He got several at different angles and then turned to me.

"Lead the way." I began walking towards a junkyard and found a few people with scraps of wood. Smiling at them in greeting, I passed by to the car I'd painted up. "Let's see, what does this one say?"

"It doesn't say anything. It's just me saying 'Seb was here.'"

"Seb was here? That's it? Ridiculous. Your name isn't even on it."

"Yes, it is," I said. "Do you think I'm an idiot? I used Greek symbols and letters to spell out 'Seb' so people couldn't lead it back to me."

"Greek?" he asked, looking at me in confusion.

"Yes. I happen to be Greek," I said, my posture straightening.

"Can you speak it fluently?" he asked, smirking.

"I used to speak it. I haven't in years because I only used it to talk to my grandparents. They used to live here but they retired to Greece, where they were born."

"Mine, too," he said. His smirk turned into a grin at my astonishment. "My parents lived there, too. I was born there."

"No accent?"