The Artist (Inkitt)

Two: Awkward

Nicholas got 100% on his drawing.

To be honest, I never did look at the sketch properly; I just overheard that Nicholas did this "amazing sketch" that earned him a perfect score.

That would explain why I'm here: in the art room staring at a drawing of myself in utter and complete awe.

First of all, it is so perfect it looks like a black and white photograph.

Second, he did this in about twenty minutes.

Just... wow.

I look... sad. I mean, I wasn't thinking of anything depressing per se, but I just look so sad.

"Maybe if you didn't worry yourself so much, you wouldn't look so sad."

I scream and jump, and turn to see a pair of piercing jade green eyes.

"Nicholas," I pant, once I catch my breath.

"You shouldn't be here."

He's right. Only art students are allowed into the art studio.

"I wanted to see it," I defend myself weekly, but in truth and in fact, most people would have just asked him. I was trying to avoid having a conversation with him, and here I am.

"I figured," he tells me, sounding bored. "Listen, I came back for some supplies but I'm going to lock up now. You need to leave."

I nod once, then turn to hurry out the art studio. I'm about to go to my usual lunch spot, when he stops me by grabbing my arm.

"Can I sit with you today?" he asks, a look of utter and complete boredom on his face. For a second, I swear that I must have misheard him.

"What?"

He steps closer, and bends his knees so that we're on eye level. Then, very precisely, he says:

"Can I sit with you today?"

Shít. This is a first.

No one has ever asked me that before.

'Why?' I want to ask him. Who knows how this boy's head works. He probably doesn't know himself. However, I don't want to ruin the chance to have a half decent conversation with someone by asking unnecessary questions.

Maybe... this will help me be normal.

Come on Samilia. Don't fùck this up. Don't. Fùck. This. Up.

"Yes."

***

Lunch with Nicholas... isn't turning out the way I would've expected it to be.

I thought it would be awkward as hell, but instead of asking me questions that I can't appropriately answer, or pinning me to the bench with his seaweed green stare, he's completely ignoring me, eating whatever sandwich he brought in his lunch kit

See, Samilia? Maybe, this won't be so bad. Maybe, you won't end up embarrassing yourself. Maybe-

"Do you like school?" he asks me out of the blue, his green eyes pinning me to the chair, just like how I didn't want them to.

"Yeah," I blurt out, not because it's true but because its an appropriate answer. Odd, I don't usually lie about these things.

"Don't lie," he demands. I avert my gaze to my fingers, trying to look any and everywhere but at him. When I try to retain some amount of decency by trying to be normal, I am told to be honest. When I am honest, I'm told that I am being too inappropriate. Simply talking to people has become one of the hardest things for me to do.

"I won't judge you, you know."

I roll my eyes.

"Tell the truth," I demand, throwing his words right back at him. He chuckles under his breath.

"Fine, I would," he admits with a smirk, "but I won't run away in scorn. I promise."

I smile a little at his honesty.

"School is... a fucking shít show," I tell him, the words flowing freely from my mouth.

"Explain," he demands, with complete nonchalance, all traces of humour now gone. It's as of he couldn't care less about what I have to say.

"Well... I guess I just hate it here. I hate the students. They're as dumb as cüm."

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret it. I usually don't hear how disgusting I sound, until I sit and ponder what I have said for days. However, due to my current state - my extreme amount of self consciousness at the moment - I hear exactly what anyone would hear when I say those words:
an extremely unrefined young girl.

I sit and wait for him to say something critical, or even do exactly what he said he wouldn't do - run away in scorn - but he surprises me.

"That rhymes," he says with a chuckle.

I take a deep sigh of relief; he isn't disgusted. Or if he is, he is hiding it very well.

"Do you think that I'm as dumb as cùm?" he asks with a small smile.

"I was speaking in terms of the general school population. You're not normal."

He raises one brow at me.

Shit.

"I- I mean-"

"How am I not normal?"

"You're all quiet and brooding-"

Oh, shít sticks, Samilia. Now you sound like a damn stalker.

"I Had no idea that you noticed that much about me, Samilia." I say nothing; I just nod. Maybe the conversation will go better if I just don't talk.

He goes back to his lunch kit and pulls out a bottle of water. I watch like a complete creep as he drinks it. He doesn't notice, though, because he's not looking at me.

He takes the bottle from his lips and chuckles.

"Why are you staring?" he asks me.

"How are you seeing me?" I counteract. That wasn't smart; I basically just confessed.

Well, at least now, I know that this couldn't possibly get more awkward.

"It's called a field of view. I can see you, even though I'm not looking at you." He turns his head completely, now, to look me in the eyes. "You stare at me in class, too."

I cringe. It probably looks like I'm sucking on a lemon, but I'm so embarrassed about everything else, I can't find it in me to be embarrassed of my cringe face, too.

"I'm sorry. I'll try to stare less."

"I don't mind," he says honestly. "I just found it... curious."

Wow, I think to myself as I exhale loudly. I really, really fucked that up.

Just as I'm about to say something else that will potentially cause me great embarrassment, the school bel rings loudly. He must see the relief on my face.

"Am I really that bad?" he teases, but for the first time since lunch, I hear some seriousness in his voice, as if he cares about what I think.

"No," I admit. "Your good, it's just that I... I'm not the best at this. You probably think that I'm a creep-"

"Actually, I kinda like you," he tells me almost absentmindedly, as he packs up his lunch.

"What?" I splutter, sounding more aggressive than I intended.

"I said, I kinda like you. See you tomorrow."

I stare in amazement as he walks off, as if his statement was completely normal.

Samilia, you just spoke to someone, and he kinda likes you.

No biggie.

Quickly, I sink my teeth into my bottom lip.

Holy shít, that hurts like hell.

Yep, definitely not dreaming.