Dylan Sprayberry Imagines

Art

I originally came here for a friend whose artwork was being showcased for the first time. Sure, I showed up but realized that he had business to handle. People with money were looking to buy it already. So, I left him to do his thing and made the decision of observing other pieces.

It was when I entered the third room that I took notice of the girl following me. I don't think it was her intention but we happened to keep ending up in the same area at the same time. Out of everyone in the room, she seemed to be the only person studying the artwork. Clustered in small groups, people either discussed the subject before them or chatted about the plans they had for this upcoming weekend. This girl, on the other hand, ignored her surroundings and focused on a landscape painting.

In all honesty, her silence intrigued me. It was foreign to see someone my age so into art. I expected teens to be texting on their phones or completely ignoring the piece at hand while they spoke to their friends.

Before I knew it, my feet were moving towards her. The worst part was that I had no clue what to say once I reached her.

She was pretty, I would definitely give her that. My mind longed to see the rest of her face but that required being directly in front of her. So I stared at the side of her face instead and the Y/H/C hair that shield her ears.

"It's rude to stare you know." she spoke in a tone that implied she wasn't disturbed. Her head turned to face me and that's when I got a good look at her. Y/E/C eyes gazed into mine, lips glossy as hell. She was a natural, no makeup on and I was surprised. I was used to seeing girls with makeup on all the time and this was a first.

I realized that I had definitely been staring at her now. She waited for me to respond but nothing came out. My mouth only opened and closed like a fish underwater.

She let a giggle, a gorgeous one. "Are you okay?"

"I-I um, yeeeaah. I'm f-f-fine." I stuttered. What the hell Sprayberry? I'm normally fine around people, especially those I'm meeting for the first time.

To avoid her mesmerizing stare, I turned back to the painting before us. Looking anywhere but at the subject making you nervous could calm people down, so I tried it. The painting looked as if it was from the perspective of a person up high. Rocky cliffs were in the distance while the ocean sat peacefully in the night.

"It's by that guy over there." the girl said. I looked in the direction where her index finger pointed. A man in a pair of ripped skinny jeans and a white button up stood about a few few from us talking to three men. "His name is Michal Hurston. He's been painting for two years but a lot believe he's been doing it longer than that."

"Why?" I asked in curiosity.

"Look at this piece. He's so good, it's hard to believe that he's only been doing this for a short period of time." she justified. "It's hard to believe anything an artist does. Our work is so unique, it surprises ourselves and others."

I furrowed my brow. "You're an artist?"

She shrugged. "Apparently. People like my drawings and call me one but I really don't see myself as one."

"Why not?"

Another shrug. She reached into the small purse slung around shoulder and pulled out an iPhone. I looked away as she typed in her passcode, not feeling comfortable by snooping.

"Here. Look at these."

Behold a true artist in front of me. She drew portraits and landscapes of all sorts. Each drawing revealed every detail, including the ones you would miss in a high definition picture. She made sure to capture the light on the nose of a person underneath so much light and every leaf on the trees blew in the correct direction. All of them were black and white from pencils but beautiful in its own way.

"You're awesome. Amazing."

"Thank you." Her cheeks tinted a light shade of red. "But I never feel like it."

"Why? They're fantastic drawings. I can't draw like this but people expect me to because of my doodles."

She giggled and I found my stomach fluttering at the sound. "Most of these come from pictures taken by people. I don't feel like an artist because it's not original." she explained, turning back to face Michal's painting. "You need to be yourself to be an artist and that's hard for me. Desperately, I try to change the way things look just so I can be different. But, I end up crumpling the paper and tossing it in the trash because I think it looks like shit."

All I did was stare at her. She seemed so upset about it and at this point, I'm pretty sure she was thinking about giving up on art now. I barely knew this girl but I wanted her to keep trying. Move forward so she could be like my friend. Or Michal Hurston.

That's why she was so focused. She wanted to be different like the two artists I've seen today. While others ignored it, she studied the pieces to see what was so interesting about their artwork.

"Hey." I nudged her lightly with my elbow. I almost forgot what I was about to say when she looked at me with her gorgeous eyes. "I can help."

"What?"

"I can help. I want you to keep drawing. When you feel like it's horrible, show me them first."

"But it'll look like shit."

"It doesn't matter. An artist needs to be unique and that's what I think of your work. Keep drawing those pictures and I promise to give you ideas to make it different from others."

She smiled warmly at me. "Thank you."

"No problem."

For a second, we just stared at each other. I forgot that others were in the room and part of me hoped she was feeling the same thing as me. I wanted to know if her heart was beating as fast as mine or if she wanted to know more about me like I did with her.

Because I really did. She seemed so interesting from a distance and from this small interaction with one another, I wanted to know more of her.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Dylan."

She smirked and I swear, my heart could've jumped out of my chest as it was the hottest thing I could've seen on a pretty face like hers. "Well Dylan, I introduce to you Y/N."