"I just can't get this RIGHT!"
Frank stared dejectedly at his work, then burying his face in his hands. Something about it was just wrong, but he couldn't see it. He needed a set of fresh eyes to point out the error, but he swore to the gods he'd never do that (Ehem, Leo Valdez was lurking about. Camp Jupiter decided to pay a little visit on Camp Half-Blood). Whoever was the god or goddess of artworks and stuff, he was desperately praying to the deity.
The drawing he'd been working on, her face, stared back at him, almost teasingly, like, Can you see it? Haha, psych! Not that one, you got that part right!
"I knew I should have stuck with stick people! Why couldn't I just—"
He heard footsteps behind him, so he quickly flipped the sketchpad and hastily pocketed the pencils.
"Hey, Frank. How are you doing?"
Hazel Levesque walked right up to him, a soda can and a cup of whatever(maybe tea?) in both of her hands. She offered him the soda, which he gladly took.
"Thanks." Frank popped the lid open, taking a long swig from it.
"May I see this?"
Before Frank could protest, Hazel grabbed the sketchpad, resting it on her lap.
"You. . . you decided to do art? That's wonderful, Frank!"
Please don't open it, Frank prayed. Oh, gods.
And Hazel opened it.
She stopped to stare at Frank's greatest failure yet.
A very loud belch escaped Frank Zhang's lips, embarrassing him more. He was a bit tempted to change into something that ran fast and bolt away, but Hazel might take that as something rude. Also, her father might make the ground open up and swallow him whole.
"My face." she said, not taking her eyes off the drawing. Frank swallowed, hoping Pluto really would make the ground open up and swallow him whole.
"Uh. . .that. . . that's not mine. Yep. Just found it. Likely story."
Hazel turned her gaze to him, her expression a bit hurt and disappointed. Franks immediately felt bad about lying, and he regretted it. "Really? Well—"
"No, that's mine actually. I just wanted to impress you and all," He said, scratching the back of his head. "But. . . I didn't even get it right. I couldn't perfect the eyes I lose myself in staring at them!" Frank spluttered. Then he noticed that Hazel was regarding him strangely with her golden eyes.
"I'm sorry."
"The eyes are a bit off, but, I like it. I think it's so sweet of you."
"No way."
"You don't believe me? Here's a proof."
Hazel gave him a warm smile. She was just so beautiful. Her golden eyes was lustrous, like polished gold.
She leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
He almost melted in his shoes. She smelled wonderful, like roses.
"I really like you, Frank."
"I—I like you too. So much. Now do I get a kiss on the lips? Improvised reciprocation."
"Frank!"
"Sorry."
"Your face."
