drinking

chapter 7

"Uh, Ashton?"

I walk into a small, empty hallway. Ashton called me to tell me he had planned our next date the night after the drive with Luke, and his directions bring me here. It was a rustic-looking building with mountains and mountains of flowers surrounding it. I tentatively took some steps into the building, trying to find any source of sound that could guide me. 

Unfortunately, the only sound that bounced back were the sounds of my own footsteps. 

Why does Ashton always have to bring me to such weird places?

"Um, Ashton?" I said again, my voice echoing off of the white walls.

This time, I heard a shuffling sound somewhere, and a bang. I followed the sound into a closet, looking around in confusion. A bunch of cleaning supplies stare back at me, and anxiety seizes my body until I hear a voice.

"In the closet, small door to the left," Ashton hollered, his voice distant.

I turned around myself, until I see a door that is well hidden by the racks of toilet paper and detergent. The paint on it was chipping a little bit, but I opened the door anyways. Once I glanced in, it was a short, wooden stairway that lead to a brighter room. 

Taking a couple steps and hearing the wooden floors creak in protest, I hear something new in my ears, other than the rushing blood.

Music?

And there was Ashton somewhat dancing while standing in front of an art easel. He was humming a song while his left hand held the palette of colors, and he seemed to be painting something. 

When he heard my footsteps, he turned around quickly with a smile. I glimpsed around the room. It was well lit, and quite spacious for what I was expecting. There were numerous amounts of paintings on the wall and floor, and a mirage of colors stained the hardwood floor.

"Haven! Glad you could make it," Ashton chirped, turning back to his art.

I took a couple steps forward, looking over Ashton's shoulder to see what he was painting. 

"I was just pretending to paint by the way, the easel is empty."

A smile erupts on my face, and he points to a small seat a little ways away. Taking it, I drag myself over with the seat and plop down next to the easel. He does the same, and he just grins at me.

"Welcome," he gestures around the room like it was a stadium, "to my precious art studio."

I furrow my eyebrows, but I still couldn't contain my excitement.

"You didn't tell me you did art," I questioned, and he shrugged, leaning over to drop his palette.

"It was the surprise, remember?" he hums, as he stands up to a large desk with paint on it.

"A surprise? Wait, you mean you're-"

"-teaching you how to draw? Yes!" he squeals, rushing back to the easel with paint and a new palette.

Watching him was almost like watching an excited child, his eyes seem to glow a bit brighter, and his movements are a lot quicker. I enjoyed watching his energy as Ashton seems to bound across the room, unable to be confined.

"I know you said, draw, but painting is drawing with paint.." he goes on, digging through the buckets of brushes at his feet, "So, here's your brush."

Ashton hands me a medium sized brush, and I fiddle with it as I didn't know what I was doing. I felt the bristles on the top, and I immediately liked the soft feeling of it swiping across my fingers.

"Well, first, what do you want to paint?" he asks, and I tap my index finger on my chin, pretending to think.

"I don't know, what do you want to paint?"

"I'm not quite sure either, anything that you want to do specifically?"

The conversation went on and on, until we both settled on some mountains in a forest scene. Ashton handed me a different brush, taking back the one I liked so much, and he started squeezing some paint on the palette.

"Classic, classic Bob Ross art," Ashton said, and I nodded in agreement.

After a few seconds of him squeezing the paint, he angles the palette so I can see it.

"So, for the mountains, this is the color we're going to use," he points to a grayish color with his brush.

"And this is what we're going to put on the mountains to create a snowy sort of look," he moves to a plain white color, and I nod along.

"So this is what you're going to do; use your brush and sort of use it softly on the top, where the tips of the mountains should go, and drag it down more harshly. It should create a triangle shape."

I listen to his advice as I dip the brush generously into the paint, and I bite my lip.

"You nervous," he says with concern, and I shrug.

"I'm afraid of messing it up," I reply inaudibly, and I feel his hand wrapping around mine.

"Here, I'll help."

Ashton drags the paintbrush along the painting like he told me to, stopping at a specific point. I could feel the blood rushing through my cheeks like a raging river, but I couldn't stop it. 

"And.. you continue to do that until the mountains are prominent. Get it?" Ashton lets go of my hand, and somehow I felt a little disappointment.

"Yup, thank you," I mutter, doing what he instructed me to do. 

After a few brush strokes, mountains start appearing out of the painting, and I smile at the sight.

"You're a natural! Now, next.."

And the art lesson goes on, with each stroke making the painting even more lively, and a scene starts being pulled together. Ashton instructed me along the way, making sure I didn't make any stupid mistakes on the way. Although it wasn't a typical "take you out for dinner" date, I felt equally as satisfied knowing Ashton shared his special hobby with me.

The painting is eventually finished, and Ashton carries it to an empty place on the walls. He rests it carefully on the nail, and we both stand back to admire the work.

"That's pretty good, for a beginner you know," he commented, and I grin.

"Beginner's luck, I guess," I say, and he chuckles with me.

"You know," I start, "I was going to join an art competition when I was little, but I had no talent to."

"Thank God you didn't, you're horrible," he jokes, and I pretend to be offended.

Without thinking, I flick my paintbrush at him, gray paint landing on his nose. We both stand surprised for a second, before a mischievous smile forms on Ashton's face and he smirks.

"Is that how you're going to play it?" 

And there it starts, our little paint war. He grabs his brush to flick some paint in my hair, and I retaliate with some more on his face, until both our faces are somewhat covered with streaks of colors. Ashton then dumped a little bit of red paint on my grey sweatshirt, and I gasped.

"My sweatshirt," I said in mock horror, and he rolls his eyes.

"Come here, you big baby," Ashton says, and his arms wrap around my figure.

"Sorry for getting paint on your face," I apologize, and he smiles at me, a dimples showing on his cheek.

"Sorry for getting paint on your sweatshirt," he responds, and we both look in each other's eyes.

"You know, I wouldn't have it any other way," I whisper, and his eyes flicker to my color-stained lips and I realize how close we are.

And then, Ashton starts to lean in.

-

and we're done with chapter 7 ;)

c