October.
"Stop moving!"
"I'm not!"
"Yeah, you are! You had your arm up on your waist, now it's on your side."
"I got tired," Luke shrugged, placing his hand on the side of his torso again. After our little weird talk in my room, Luke randomly asked if I could draw another sketch of him and I happily accepted, taking the sketchbook and supplies that Michael gave me. Now, I was seated on the floor behind my couch, and Luke was standing near the little dining table, looking bored out of his mind.
"I want to watch Spongebob."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because," I huffed, running a hand through my hair and looking up at a pouty Luke. "You asked me to draw you and I said yes, and it took me a long time to find these," I referred to the small box of pencils next to me. "And besides. I'm an artist. You're not supposed to move unless I tell you to. And plus, I don't have any Spongebob films like you do." He gasped.
"So, I'm like, your muse?"
"That's supposed to be towards a girl."
"Okay, okay," Luke changed his standing position, turning to his side and putting a hand on his hip, curving back uncomfortably with his lips puckered. "Look, white girl pose." He brought his hand to his mouth, pretending to be sipping on a straw. "I'm so happy I got this frappuccino. It's soo good, I can't even." Every single word with an 's' in it, he emphasized with a high pitched, voice.
"Luke!"
"Oh right, right, sorry." he stifled a laugh but didn't return to his normal position and I straightened out my legs in front of me, dropping the sketchbook onto my lap and hid my face in my hands. "This is hopeless." I groaned.
"Didn't you see the vine? Arm extension elbow up, pop that booty pucker up." he sang and I lifted my head, to find Luke doing exactly what the song said, holding up his phone. The click of a camera was heard, then he brough the phone down and started texting, a goofy smile on his face.
My phone vibrated next to me and I gave Luke a glare and he shrugged, nodding his head towards my phone on the floor. I picked it up and opened a picture message from none other than Luke, who was still smiling cheekily down at me. I opened it and burst out laughing. It was a picture of Luke that he took just a few seconds ago, along with the "white girl pose" he was talking about. Kissy lips, peace sign and everything.
"You're such a dork," I chuckled, saving the picture anyway and putting my phone down, picking up the sketchbook to fill in the missing lines with improvised work. "There, done."
I slid the book towards him before standing and he picked it up, his eyes widening and a huge grin formed on his lips, before he glanced at me, ran and picked me up, twirling me around before putting me down.
"You never fail to amaze me, October Winters." he gleamed, kissing my forehead. "How do you do that, anyway?"
I shrugged. "I dunno. I mean, I've seen you a bunch of times already. So, it's basically like connecting the dots." No, it wasn't like connecting the dots, Luke. You are imprinted in my mind, and with every single touch, you leave a trail of warm fire against my skin that I like to scrub off with a loofa because literally no one has ever made me feel like that before. And I love you so much it bothers me. Though I stayed silent, and he chuckled.
"You're a true talent." he whispered, standing in front of me and tilting his head down, so it would touch the top of my forehead. I felt his warm breath against the surface of my nose. "Don't you- don't you ever consider about flying back to Vancouver, to see your parents?"
