Hemmings

Three

     I had a really good time with Luke on Monday, turns out that Mondays aren't really all that bad. I've tried out new things that day, and I ended up liking them. We longboarded all around the city, and drank coffee together. It turns out that Luke wasn't that bad, either. After all, I knew he was a good guy until that day I met him at the shop. He defended me, and nobody has ever done that for me before. Riley, you better not fucking fall for him, I reminded. I didn't want to get to that at all.

(Luke's POV)

    Riley. Where do I even start? I've seen her walk down the halls at school, nothing but a rebellious bitch. But now I had met her, I'm beginning to notice things about her that aren't really bad. Not bad at all. I can awkwardly compare her to Simon Cowell, she seems to be cold hearted on the outside but she is a little different when someone gets to her. You're probably thinking "Simon Cowell? What the fuck." And I apologize for that, I don't think I should compare the girl I have a crush on to a British prick. I know for a fact she has a soft side. I know that she is generous. She's all amazing things I could think of, even though she tends to shut me out. Luckily, I know that reason why she does. She's scared of letting me into her life mostly because she doesn't want to fall in love again. But, I'm finding my way. Finding our way. Hopefully everything works out.

(Riley's POV)

"Riley." My mom called after me, before I could go to the bathroom. She stood up, putting the Glamour magazine she was reading down on top of the dining table. "I've decided that you need help, so-" But before she could say another word, I interrupt her aggressively. "I didn't ask for a fucking therapist, mom! If you really want me to heal, then you have to let me do it on my own. I'm the only one that could help myself." I blurt. I knew I was a handful, but out of all of the things, a therapist? That makes everything even worse. "I don't care what you say. You are going today after school." She screamed at the top of her lungs. She was dead serious, although I never took her serious at all before. I stomped to school in anger like a little tantrum child, looking like complete shit. A messy hair bun, an oversized sweater, leggings and boots. It was comfortable though; I was glad I left the house with this outfit. I can finally complain and bitch in a comfy outfit.

"Someone's gloomy today, again. Hi beautiful." I recognized the voice in a instant click. It was Luke. His deep Australian-accent voice was a big turn-on and nobody else has an accent like his. "Scheduled Therapy after school." I blurt, releasing all of my anger in shutting my locker. He laughed, opening his arms offering me to embrace him. I rolled my eyes, releasing a little giggle, "If you want me to hug you, you have to come to me." He put his hands down due to my rejection, and walked towards me. He wrapped his big muscular arms around my upper body part to my waist, and he was warm. I lift both of my arms up to hug him back, and lied both of them on each of his shoulders. "I don't want this moment to end." I could tell he was blushing, how he said it was obvious he was. I pushed away, leaving a smirk. "Sorry lover boy, but that moments over." I laughed, walking into my art class. He followed along giggling, since he was in the same class as me. We were both excellent at art, considering both of our artworks were posted in the hallway on the schoolboard.

"So today, we will be talking about the purposes of this class. Art in general. Can someone tell me what art is about?" Mrs. Lynn, our art teacher, asked enthusiastically. She was always bubbly and cheerful, and that's why most of the students loved her. "If nobody wants to answer, then I volunteer Riley to answer, you know, since she's really artistic." She teases. Luke jumped up and decided to attempt to embarrass me in the most way he could, and yelled "You better work Rilaaaaaaaye!" But, he failed. Nobody laughed, and I didn't either. But on the bright side, I did find it cute that he was willing to encourage me on something so small. I turned to Mrs. Lynn and the class, and spoke whatever was on my mind. "Personally, art is supposed to help you. Help you release anger, sadness, happiness, and even loneliness, and probably all of the emotions you feel like you need to let out. Most of us don't care assuming, nobody gets what the hell I'm even saying. But basically, art is just something you can create on your own using your imagination and feelings." I sat down, plugging my headphones into my right ear. Mrs. Lynn began to clap in the honor of my answer, and everyone else began to, too. The fuck? I don't like attention. "What can you not be or do? You're intelligent, beautiful, smart and a hell of a good artist and writer. I don't know how you could hate yourself." He says, beginning to copy the notes Mrs. Lynn left up on the projector. I let whatever he just told me sink in, and I felt it. I feel beautiful. I feel intelligent, and even smart for once. I feel like I'm the best fucking author and artist that ever lived. It was the first time my insecurities vanished from my mind, and it felt good. But, I didn't let it get to me too much. I knew it wasn't something permanent, and I didn't want to get used to feeling so conceded. Because once you get attached to feeling like that, you're gonna hit rock bottom once someone points all of your insecurities out. "Luke." I softly spoke, half of me hoping he didn't hear, and the other half yelling out to hear. He looked at me innocently. "Riley." He teased, laying his head on my left shoulder for less than a half second. I lost all of the words I was about to tell him, and decided to not reply to him.