Ryan loves art. He spends every waking moment drawing in his sketchbook. People always ask him to draw them, and he always says no. One day, a kid is moved into his class and sits across from him. Maybe he should have a moving muse.
I forgot about this one but I'm so proud of it.
-Ryan-
"Ryan, you wanna come over tonight? I'll give you something nice to draw," A girl with blonde hair and a petite figure says. I believe her name is Jac.
"I can't, sorry. Maybe some other time." Ah yes, 'Maybe some other time', the excuse that is so unpromising yet believed. Jac goes to speak, but a boy who I have never met walks in. He is tall. Not like terrifyingly intimidating tall, thanks to his kind looking eyes. He is a bit pale, but not as unhealthily pale as me. He is wearing a white sweater with a few orange and blue dots formed into a line.
In his hand is a sketchbook, one you'd find at a drugstore for $1, unlike my $17 sketchbook I bought at an actual art store. 250 pages vs 50. Obviously, I win.
Yet somehow this boy seems like he likes art. Probably because of the way he looks at the posters and discusses certain art with the teacher, Mr. Young. His sleeves fit perfectly loose around his wrists, His fingers seeming clean-like, despite being covering in pen marks from writing.
"You can sit over there with Ryan. Ryan, raise your hand?" Mr. Young asks kindly, his brotherly like voice fitting his 25 year old image. He's just a college student.
I raise my hand and the boy smiles warmly. Something flutters inside me, awakening something I never knew I could feel.
"Hi." He says as he sits across from me. His voice sounds creamy, soft, warm, kind of like a sweet coffee, the sweet film it leaves on your tongue.
"Hi, I'm Ryan, Ryan Ross."
"Dallon. Weekes, with an extra 'e' between the k and s." Dallon smiles. He must have his last name misspelled a lot.
"That's a cool name," I say. My inner self is glaring at me, asking, 'why are you so awkward?'.
"Thanks. So, If you had 30 seconds to save one thing from your burning house, what would you grab?" Dallon suddenly asks. What a way to change the subject.
"Wh-... my sketchbook. What about you?" His hair is put into a perfectly messy quiff, a few strands of his soft brown hair falling down onto his face.
Dallon seems to smile and think for a second, but something tells me that he isn't thinking of an answer.
Before he actually can answer, the bell rings and Mr. Young begins the lesson. I flip through my sketch book, grabbing a sharpened pencil from my bag. At first, I find myself drawing a pair of eyes, soon turning into a face. It takes a while to realize what I am drawing. Or even better, who I'm drawing.
An hour of me drawing and Mr. Young talking passes, and I am just now done with the drawing of the charming boy across from me. The end of class is nearing, meaning that we have about a half an hour of free time. I feel a presence looking over my shoulder.
"Not bad, Ross. As always being an amazing realistic artist. Never seen you draw people in front of you, though. Good job." Mr. Young smiles and winks at Dallon, earning a confused look from the tall boy.
"Oh, uh, well-" I go to make some excuse, but a hand rips the sketchbook out of my own. My heart sinks. Dallon seems to notice my fear.
"Holy shit, you should draw me sometime!" the girl says. Dallon gently grabs the book from her once her guard is down. He goes to hand it to me, but notices what I have drawn. He smiles, some sort of pride filling the look in his eyes.
"You're really good, Ryan. I feel honored." Dallon hands me the notebook. I blush and awkwardly wait for the now anxiety fused 30 minutes to be over.
Once it does come along, Dallon stops by my locker just a minute after class ends.
"Seriously, you're really good at drawing," Dallon says, a slight smirk resting on his lips.
"T-Thanks..." I look down shyly. Dallon seems to notice some girls staring at us, giggling and twirling small strands of their hair in between their fingers.
"Now, something you should know about me, I like making other people jealous. See those girls?" He says. I look over, Dallon looking at me while leaning against a wall. The girls flirtatiously wave at me, giggling more. I look at Dallon.
"What about them?"
"Smile and kiss me."
"W-What?" Did he actually just ask me to kiss him? Am I dreaming?
"No one just draws a boy across from them and blushes when he compliments them. I'm not like anyone else, or maybe I'm just like them, but I find you very very attractive and very very talented. Now, I wanna see them realize you're not interested, so smile and kiss me," Dallon says. I quickly smile for a few seconds before he places his hand on the side of my neck, leaning forward and connecting our lips together. The weird feeling from earlier erupts inside me once again.
"I kinda like making people jealous with you," I say once we pull away.
"The best part? No one wants to tell anyone that their crush is in a 'relationship', meaning the more we can kiss and do couple-y things in front of others," Dallon says quietly.
"Do we wanna make sure that they saw?"
"Finally, someone who actually enjoys this as much as I do," Dallon says before leaning in again.
This sure is a perk of being an artist.
