The New Kid

Chapter 22

We're walking back to our cars now. 

We're hand-in-hand and I'm smiling all toothy. Christian is my man! Like what?! Christian asks, "What are you up to the rest of the day?" I'm enthusiastic in my answer, "Oh, not much, I was hoping to hang out with my boyfriend." He gets all excited when I say that to the point where he kisses me, and I don't think I'll ever mind an unsolicited kiss from him. 

We get to his car, "Do you want to follow me to my house, or take my car?" I think I'm fine to be parked here a couple more hours, so I decide to get in the passenger seat of his black hummer. 

"I want to show you my house," he says.

He turns on the seat warmers, to my delight, and we're on our way.

...............................

I'm not totally sure how my parents feel about me being in a guy's home by ourselves, since they certainly don't like boys being in my room when they aren't home. But here we are, at Christian's house, alone.

"Where's your family today?" I ask him as we take our shoes off and make our way up a winding black and white staircase. "My parents work a lot, even Saturdays sometimes," he answers. "Do you have any brothers or sisters?" I ask. "No," he says. "I'm an only child. After my parents had a miscarriage after having me, they were scared to try again. "Oh," I say solemnly. "I'm sorry to hear that." Christian looks at me, "It's okay, it was a long time ago." 

I ask him, "Do you wish you had siblings?" "Yes and no," he says. "It's been nice to grow up more independently, but at the same time it would have been nice to have more family to play with at holidays as a kid." I start thinking about my own family reunions. We have a lot of extended family and cousins and it can get crazy and loud. Christian's never gotten to experience that before.

Once Christian gave me a quick tour of the upstairs area, which was very well decorated and elegant, he showed me his room. I was hesitant to enter his space, but I trusted Christian. "We won't be in here alone long," he states, observing my slight discomfort. "I just think you'd find this interesting." 

He opens the door to his room and I look around. It's neat for the most part and decked out in navy blues and grays, with a few tall lamps and a nice wooden desk with a desk-lamp and a computer with speakers and a gaming set. Most of his walls are simple with large horizontal stripes, except the back wall, opposite of his bed. Surrounding the light gray closet doors is a lot of artwork. I'm amazed. I get closer to look at it all. 

Christian's got pencil sketches, charcoal drawings, even a few painted panels sitting on shelving, covering the entire back wall. I look at him in awe, "Christian! You never said you were an artist too!" Most of his artworks are also portraits of celebrities, fictional characters, and seemingly everyday people. 

I stop short as I see a familiar face amongst the sketches. It's Sylvia's portrait.

Christian notices the portrait I'm looking at. He shifts a little, not sure of what my reaction might be toward it. The drawing looks just like her, right down to a little crescent-shaped scar she has by her left eye. "How well do you know Sylvia?" I ask him plainly, still unsure what to think of her face on his bedroom wall.

"We took a community sketching class together last summer, that's where I met her first. One of our assignments was to pick a partner to draw. Her portrait of me turned out nice too." Christian relaxes when I say, "That's really cool. I've never taken a class. I'm just . . . self-taught." Next, I go over to Christian's desk. He's got his very own matte-black sketchbook. "May I?" I ask. He nods in my direction, and I start paging through his most current works. I feel like I'm reading his journal. I pause mid-way through his sketchbook. It's me. 

I pick up the sketchbook to have a closer look. He's drawn me so well, just that he's emphasized some parts of me more than I would have anticipated.  My eyes are bold, and my hair looks a windblown, my lips are slightly parted and I look intense, as if I'm going to fight someone who wronged me. Etched in small capital letters in quotations is "Tough Girl." 

I look at him and squeal a little, "I love it!" Christian comes close to me to look at his work too, "You're the most beautiful face I've had the honor of drawing." I admire it once more, "Will you send me a picture of it or a copy once you're totally done? No one's ever drawn me before . . ."

He nods his head, one hand in his pocket. Then he does that thing were he stares into my eyes to capture my full attention, and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear, "But you're even more beautiful in person," he says.