If Cupid Had A Heart [MAJOR EDITING]

Chapter 19

2 Days before Valentine's Day.

 Dylan walked into Art carrying a huge canvas, which I assumed was his final piece. I hadn't seen it, so I don't know what it looks like but as long as it stops us from getting a bad grade and failing Art, then I don't care what it is.

He caught me looking with a puzzled expression on my face and he smiled so I smiled back. He then carefully set it down next to Mrs. Holmes' desk near to the growing pile of artworks. 

"Hey," he sat down next to me. "have you handed your final piece in yet?" he asked.

I gripped the frame of my painting, "No," I admitted.

"What are you waiting for?" he asked, confused.

"I'm waiting for everyone to hand theirs in first so nobody else sees it." I answered.

"Can I see it?" Dylan reached for my painting but I quickly pulled it to my chest, away from his reach and he held his hands up. "Okay, then."

"Sorry," I smiled sheepishly. "I don't like people looking at my stuff." I explained.

Emma walked over and rolled her eyes, "Avery, you really need to get over this." She said firmly but I shook my head wildly like a child.

Dylan laughed at my reaction, "Is she always like this?"

"Yeah, every time she has to hand something in," Emma paused and pointed at me while I clutched my painting. "She does that."  she explained and Dylan nodded.

Emma attempted to pry the painting out of my hands and hand it in herself but I wouldn't let go and she eventually gave up and went back to her table.

"I don't like people looking at my paintings either," Dylan admitted. "I'm weird like that," he chuckled. "That's why I always make sure my canvases are facing the wall so nobody can see them."

I nodded and smiled a little, "Yeah, I noticed that."

"I tell you what, because I really want to see your painting. If I let you see mine, can I see it?" He asked smilingly.

I considered his offer for a second and decided that I really wanted to see what he painted because I was curious. Before I knew it, I nodded in agreement and he walked back over to the front of the classroom to retrieve his canvas.

He took a deep breath, "Here it is, you ready? Don't laugh, it's no Picasso or Van Gough." 

"I'm not going to laugh, I promise." I assured him and he slowly set it on the table in front of me. "Wow...that's...it's...beautiful."

The canvas was seperated into two to fit two different scenes in. One was of a young girl around ten years old sat under a big tree and the other was an older version of the girl leaning on a wall in a garden. I could tell that it was the same girl because the shape of the face was identical.

He laughed nervously, "Thanks."

"Who is it of?" I asked. "If you don't mind me asking, of course." I quickly added.

He shrugged, "Just some girl," he answered simply.

"Yeah, I can tell it's a girl but it's just a silhouette. Who is it?" I questioned.

"This girl..." he chuckled in reply but I raised my eyebrows demanding for him to say more. "It's basically someone who's just put up with me for so long," he laughed, "longer than she should've really. She was my first kiss, that was like in fifth grade." He shrugged.

"Oh, that's cute." I said softly. A part of me envied the girl in the painting. "Do I know her?" I honestly don't know why I even asked but I did.

Dylan nodded, "Yeah, you should do."

"The garden looks familiar," I observed and furrowed my brows in concentration trying to remember where I had seen it.

"That's because you've been there." he said. I opened my mouth to say something but he interrupted. "Can I see your final piece?"

I nodded lightly, "Yeah." Then I slowly placed it next to his canvas.

"That's really good." He said and I smiled at him. "But what does a tree and a clear night sky have to do with the theme?" he asked in confusion.

"The theme is basically love, isn't it?" Dylan nodded. "And the final piece is supposed to be about our own personal experiences that mean something to us, right?" He nodded again. "Well, this is my final piece."

"I still don't get it." 

"Too bad." I smiled, grabbing my painting and sautering off to hand it in leaving a very puzzled Dylan.

To be honest, I felt kind of hurt that he didn't remember that tree. It was the tree that I always used to read under when we were younger, where he stole my first kiss. And he was probably too drunk to remember that time he kissed me at that party just a few weeks ago. I shouldn't have expected him to remember so that was my mistake.

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So they have a history... Who feels bad that Dylan didn't remember?

{Unedited} If you see mistakes, tell me. ^-^

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