The Artist | #3✓

Chapter 14

"You're just moving your peas around." Toby's laugh made me look up from my plate to him. I blushed a little, shrugging as I paused picking at the peas on my plate with my fork. We were both in the staff cafeteria, using the free time during our break to grab something to eat. Most of the other teachers had come in earlier, so while we were eating the rest of the staff were leaving the small café.

I remember when I'd first walked into the staff cafeteria. I'd been a bit surprised at how small the place was, and at how similar the food was to the food served in the main student cafeteria. You'd think they'd feed their staff better.

When we were eventually done eating, we headed back to the art room and the atmosphere just felt tense — or it was more likely just me being paranoid. Toby headed for his desk, and I headed for mine. I couldn't help watching him type on his laptop. I fidgeted with my fingers, biting my bottom lip as two parts of my subconsciousness argued over whether I should go ahead and show him my painting, or whether I should just keep it to myself.

I'd gotten to work earlier than him today, and I'd managed to walk through the hallways with the canvas unquestioned. The canvas was now presently leaning against the wall beside my seat. It was turned to its back so that the part of it with the painting was not in plain view.

"Toby..." I called out. It came out in a small squeaky voice, and I began to doubt whether he'd even heard me until he looked up from his computer to face me. His expression eventually changed to that of concern. I didn't blame him. It probably looked like I was about to pass out or throw up from nervousness.

"What's wrong?" he asked, making me shake my head as I looked away from him to stare at the canvas leaning on the wall. I bit my bottom lip as I contemplated what to do, before looking back over at him.

"Nothing really..." I started, pausing mid-sentence. "I wanted to show you something — my painting," I eventually got out, making him look over at the canvas that I'd been looking at.

"Okay..." he trailed as I got up and picked up the canvas. I turned it over so that the painting of him was in full view. I tried not to look at his expression while I did it, so I cast my eyes to the ground and just held out my painting with outstretched hands. I was shaking, and it felt like I was baring my heart to him.

What if I can't handle it? I thought to myself as scenes from my dreams last night of him rejecting me played in my head. I tried to calm myself down. It was just a painting — a painting I'd poured my heart into, but still a painting none the less.

"It's wonderful..." The sound of his words made my chest swell with warmth. I looked up from the floor and turned my attention to him. He had a small smile on his face that widened as I made to mirror the action.

"It really is," he said, getting up from his seat and walking over to me. I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders when he took the painting from my hands to inspect it. "I'm really flattered."

"I'm so happy," I said, making him turn to me with a curious look on his face. I felt my face warm up even more as I shook my head, running a hand through my hair. "I just worried that you wouldn't like it - maybe even get mad at me," I muttered, trying to explain myself. Toby laughed a bit, dropping the painting by my desk, so that it was resting on it before he pulled me into a side hug.

"You're an amazing artist, who wouldn't be flattered?"

"I wanted to impress you. You mean a lot to me," I muttered into the hug. I was conscious to avoid the L word. I didn't want to scare him away from me completely, and I realized that if I let it slip too much he might decide not to be friendly towards me anymore, and I didn't want that.