Short Stories

Rayven's story

I don't own this story. My sister wrote this and I have her permission to put it up here. She is a very good writer and I hope you guys like it.

'Red there, blue next, don't forget the purple, WAIT! Purple and purple can't touch, better make it yellow, clear up the smudge there, use your fingers and...'

There's a knock on the door.

'What in the bloody....'

"Who is it!?!" I yell from the back of my studio.

There's a muffled reply and I frown turning down the music blaring from my small but powerful speakers. As I do I glance at my phone, smiling at the picture of my boyfriend Vincent and I in front of my parents hou-

'CRAP!'

Vincent's parents.

"COMING!!" I yell, as I attempt to tidy up. While it's only my studio and I live with my Aunts, second cousins, nieces something or other, I still wanted to tidy up the place (and myself) before they got here. First impressions and all. I guess I missed the timer-

A shrill beeping alarm blares from my iPhone.

Thanks Apple.

As I walk to the front door I attempt to wipe the paint off on my already messy apron, noticing only moments later that I had forgot to put it on before starting.

'Great. Just great. Now my new jeans are ruined.'

Standing in front of the door, I grip the handle, (leaving a multicolored had print as I do), take a deep breath, (noticing the heavy paint fumes), and open the door with a slight embarrassed smile.

I extend my hand and say,

"Hello, I'm Katherine it's so nice meet yo-" and stop short as his father grips my hand. There's an awkward silence between the three of us. We just stand there. Staring at each other. For what feels like YEARS, before I manage to fumble an apology.

"I-I-I am so so sorry. I-I wasn't thinking it's just...I was painting and...got carried away and...the alarm didn't, and..."

I look in his eyes, they're the same sky blue as Vincent's, and notice a small glimmer if laughter there.

"Its quite alright." He says with a smile, his mouth framed with laugh marks and a sprinkling of fine grey stubble.

My entire body relaxes and I sigh inwardly, smiling at him.

"Fortunately I'm one of the few studios that was blessed with a sink, if you like I can take you-"

"No need." He smiles warmly, "I used to work in a studio like this, I think I can find it."

"Then you're more then welcome." I say, smiling back and politely standing aside and welcoming them into my studio.

His mother looks around and I get my first good look at her. She looks so much younger then her husband, despite my knowledge that they're only separated by three years in age. She's slight, wearing a casual looking dress that is simple, but at the same time elegant. She wears flats, and as she turns to look at me I smile. She doesn't smile back.

Unlike her husband, her eyes are cold and calculating, strong, and showing clear defiance. She casts a critical eye on me and sits in one of the few chairs in the studio that I manly reserve for consultations or interviews. Brushing a small streak of curly white hair behind her ear, perhaps the only sign of her aging. She allows a small smile and opens her mouth to speak.

"So, your the girl my son has fallen head over heels for?"

'She doesn't like me does she.'

I wave the thought away self consciously.