Paint Me a Picture

Chapter 1 - Nandos

"If you judge people, then you have no time to love them."

-Mother Teresa

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Annette Moreau

I dabbed at the canvas with my paintbrush carefully. Blotches of brightly-colored paint covered the canvas part by part, section by section.

To me, painting wasn't just a hobby, it was a passion. It was something that I loved, and something that I could spend hours and hours doing. Painting wasn't something that I would do in my free time, it was something that I made free time for. It didn't matter what I needed to have painted. Abstract or concrete,it didn't matter 

Miss Saleway, the art instructor, stood at her podium in the front of the room. Her brusque voice cut through my thoughts, and my paintbrush became at a standstill. "Class, it's time to pack up. Remember, entries for the Fine Arts Festival are due next month. I suggest that you have a rudimentary plan of what you plan to be doing soon," she said curtly.

I chewed on my bottom lip, before frowning. I had completely forgotten about the Fine Arts Festival, and I didn't have any idea on what I was going to enter in the festival.

The Fine Arts Festival was held every year in honor of all of the aspiring students in the Fine Arts category. Famous collectors and buyers would be there, and it was literally one of the best ways to have your name in the public. 

Riya was standing by the sink, washing off some of the brushes.

Riya had came from the media department of the campus to help me clean up, due to the fact that we were flatmates, and that her classes ended before mine.

"Why are you so quiet?" she asked frankly, throwing me a suspicious look. 

"Nothing," I replied, "Just wondering about what I'm entering in the Fine Arts festival."

"Ah," she chirped, "You'll get something figured out. You're like the only French person I know that's obsessed with art, and you're brilliant at it anyways, so it shouldn't be a problem. I think I know what I'm going to enter, but I still haven't figured it out yet." Riya was an aspiring photographer. She was absolutely brilliant at photography too, often forcing me to being her model. I didn't mind, the pictures always came out great, and I liked the feeling of being a supposed model. 

I narrowed me eyes, "Riya, I'm the ONLY French person you know."

Riya nodded matter-a-factly, "Exactly."

I shook my head. Riya was probably the weirdest, most strangest girl that I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. She was an Indian girl, and was unbelievably gorgeous at that. She was tan, had deep brown eyes, and long black hair.

We soon finished cleaning up my section, and walked outside the building.

"Lets go to Nandos," she said, glancing at her watch, "It's almost 7, and I need some grub."

I shrugged, "Sure. Why do you like that restaurant anyways?" The food there was good, don't get me wrong, but it wasn't exactly my cup of tea. I preferred fancy restaurants, rather than places like Nandos.

"Because Niall Horan from One Direction loves that restaurant. Why else would you think?" she informed me, scandalized by the fact that I didn't know much about the popular British-Irish boyband.

I rolled my eyes, and gave an exasperated sigh, "Fine. But if we do meet them, you are NOT acting like an idiot." 

Riya ignored me. 

Soon, we had arrived at Nandos, Riya was excited, and I was tired. A tall waiter with curly brown hair led us to our seats, his eyes on Riya the entire time. "What would you like to eat?" he asked, looking entirely at her, barely sparing me a second glance. He handed us our menus, a large smile on his face.