that same night, i go to Jacques' house. we have dinner and put on netflix. this is, of course, after he brags about how amazing my single is at least five-hundred times. we're now lying in bed, I'm in his arms.
"i can't believe it." i whispered against his chest. "i'm an actual artist, now."
he kisses my temple. "you were always an artist, you were just to scared to show it "
i peck his lips against mine. "i love you."
YOU ARE READING
· artist ·
Teen Fiction"I am not a word, I am not a line. I am not a girl that could ever be defined." or, the story of a girl who has nothing more than an iPod, a diary, and a dream. until she meets the boy in the cafe and the girl from the studio.
