"Oh my God, Christian. You are going to drive me insane." You address your boyfriend who is sprawled across the black leather couch in the living room of your shared apartment. It seems Christian is either always in one of two places: baseball practice, or on the couch centered in front of the TV playing video games with his teammates.
You have absolutely no problem with Christian playing video games. If this were true, you would be a hypocrite due to your Mario Kart obsession. However, it seems like your boyfriend constantly has his eyes glued to the screen.
You grab your keys that are located on the kitchen bar and get ready to drive to your weekly art class when a lightbulb turns on in your head. Turning on your heel, ready to convince Christian, you walk across the kitchen and living room over to your boyfriend.
You removed the headset from his ears and turned off the TV after allowing him to save the game and say farewell to his buddies from across the microphone. "Christian?" You question.
"(Y/N)?" He returns, craning his neck so he can see you located on the other side of the couch.
"You know the art class that I do with a group of friends every week?" You implored, receiving a hesitated and prolonged yes from Christian as he looked at you while trying to understand why you were asking his this.
"Well, you're coming with me." You smirked and walked to the opposite side of the couch where your boyfriend was sitting. You extend your arm, practically begging him to take it, and lift his heavy body from the depths of the couch.
"Uhh. No way." He pleads while trying to convince himself that he didn't have to obey what you were commanding him to do.
"Uhh. Yes way, and go change." You cheered while placing your hand on his chest.
"I'm not getting out of this, am I?" He huffed while looking at you with puppy-dog eyes and a pouting bottom lip.
"Nope." You hummed while walking into your shared bedroom to find him a shirt that would be suitable for the messiness of the paint.
You reach into a dresser drawer and grope around for the article of clothing you had in mind. Pulling out an old AC/DC short-sleeved shirt, you hold it out in front of you to see that the color was fading and it had several tears in the seams of the sleeve. "Perfect." You mumble under your breath while tossing it to your significant other who is standing on the other side of your shared bed.
"Hey, I was looking for this." Christian started with a grin while inspecting the fabric. You chuckle at his comment and watch him switch his Brewers tee-shirt with the one you had just thrown at him. Grabbing his arm and leading him out of the place you both called home, you gave him no choice but to attend the class.
------
"Hey, (Y/N)." Your friend Julia greets while pulling you into a short-lived hug.
"Good to see you, Julia." You respond.
"So, I heard a rumor that you brought Christian today. I didn't know he was the artistic type." She asks, anxious for you to confirm the rumor so she could finally be introduced to the baseball super-star.
"Yup. He's here but I wouldn't necessarily call him artistic." You chuckle, finding your usual spot in the circular room. Christian had gone to the bathroom before joining you in the classroom. This was half because he wanted to prolong the time spent away from the group of talkative women and half because he needed to give himself a pep-talk in the mirror.
Christian walks into the doorway of the room with white walls and scanned it, taking into notice the perfectly placed easels that point towards the center, and focal point of the room. Each easel has an oak barstool behind it with a palette of rainbow-colored paint neatly scattered across it. A crystal chandelier hangs from the mosaic ceiling that is shaped into a dome. In the center of the room is a platform meant for either the instructor or the object of study.
The room was a masterpiece, to say the least, and Christian was not afraid to admit that he was breath taken by how glorious the windows were that wrapped completely around the walls, creating an angelic-like effect.
"Christian?" You ask your boyfriend who looks like he has just seen a ghost.
"Hmm." He mumbles, snapping back from his trance. This earns him a chuckle from you and Julia.
"Christian, this is my best friend Julia. Julia, this is my boyfriend Christian." You introduce and the two shake hands while smiling. You walk over to the easel you've claimed as your own over the past two years and sit down after picking up the wooden palate. Christian and Julia sit on either side of you and do the same.
"Good morning class!" Your energetic instructor greets everyone while making his way to the center platform. Everyone tells him good morning except for Christian, who is too worried about how seemingly attractive the man is.
He has chestnut brown hair that is perfectly styled and a fair amount of stubble on his face that is neatly shaved. His rich Spanish accent is one of the first things your boyfriend notices about him. His skin is perfectly tan as if he had been out on the beach only minutes ago and the suit he was dressed in seemed too fancy for teaching an art class.
Christian was worried that he had major competition for your attention and was feeling a little self-conscious after the man had taken the stage, being the only other male in the room.
"Ok, ladies," He began, "and gentlemen." He added making a hand motion towards Christian after noticing his presence. "Today we are going to go back to the basics and do something very unoriginal, but I want you to give it your best shot. If anyone needs help or guidance, you know where to find me." He added while lifting another table onto the platform that had a black sheet draped over it.
Pulling off the sheet very dramatically, he revealed what everyone would be painting today, a simple bowl of fruit. Everyone, except for Christian, went to work almost immediately, mixing paint and cautiously spreading it onto their canvas with a paintbrush.
Christian, however, kept his eyes glued to the bowl of fruit and wondered how in hell he would be able to paint it. He peered his eyes over to your canvas and notice that you were nearly done with painting the bowl.
The instructor paced the outside walls of the room, scanning everyone's painting, ready to give help if it was needed. But the way you held your wrist had caught his attention. Walking over to you, he lifted out his arm and took your small wrist in his hand and straightened it, moving it to a new angle. "If you hold your hand like that for too long, it will begin to ache in no time."
"Thanks." You reply with a genuine smile. But as he walked away, you noticed a line of red paint splattered down the back of his expensive black suit.
"Oh my God, Christian." You mouth to your boyfriend who is snickering with an evil smile plastered on his face. Several gasps were heard across the room of people who noticed the imperfection in his clothing.
Yelich obviously didn't like the attention you were receiving from him and acted without thinking.
------
After the class was over, you and Christian began to walk to the car with your dried paintings in hand after you said your goodbyes to Julia. Nobody in the class had the guts to tell the teacher what had happened to his blazer, so Yelich escaped the wrath of him, but not of you.
"Christian, are you kidding me?" You say to him before he can turn on the car.
"What?" He plays innocent while throwing his hands into the air.
"Oh my god... were you jealous?" You ask while pointing your index finger at him after finally putting two-and-two together. He doesn't answer.
You are screaming in laughter while holding your aching stomach. Christian's embarrassed expression soon turns to anger at the sight of you laughing.
"What? That guy had his hands all over you!" He defended himself.
"Christian, he's gay." You finally blurt out between laughing, earning a pale and wide-eyed look from your boyfriend as he starts the car, keeping his eyes glued to the road.
