Force of Habit

Chapter 5

A/N: Hey guys! Thank you so much for sticking with me and this story. I'm not a huge fan of it so far but trust me, it will hopefully get better. Anyway, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy Chapter 5!

- LN

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I sit in a coffee shop, jamming to Ed Sheeran and trying to relax. Originally I was writing a song, but soon I give up and just sit there, people watching, and get lost in my world of music. I feel a tap on my shoulder and jump. Upon hearing a slight chuckle, I turn. Behind me stands a guy, probably about my age, with an arrogant smirk plastered onto his face.

"May I help you?" I ask, annoyed by the fact that he has just inturrupted me during one of my favorite songs. 

"Mind if I sit?" he asks, sitting down anyway. 

"Free country," I say, actually turning back to my work.

"Whatcha working on?" he asks. Why doesn't he mind his own business? Well, I probably should open up a bit, I'm in a fairly new town and I need to make some friends. 

"Umm, I'm writing a song."

"About what?" 

"Life, I guess..." 

"Mind if I look?'' he asks.

"Sure," I say handing the page to him, but quickly snach it back, now gaining leverage, "But first, you have to tell me your name."

He smiles, not a smirk, but an actual smile, "Sawyer."

"Well, Sawyer, how do I know that you won't steal any of my ideas?"

He looks at me, and smirks a bit before answering, "Well, I'm an art major. I suck at writing and I'm sure that anyone could do better than I could." 

"Well what kind of art do you do? Paintings, drawing-"

"All sorts of things really. I like sketching the best, but I also do a lot of paintings. Mind if I read that song now?"

"Oh, sure," I say, having forgotten that he wanted to read my work.

His brown eyes grow transfixed on the page as he reads, "Woah, that's pretty good. I could never write that well," he says, after finishing reading what I wrote down so far.

"Thanks. Mind if I see your art?" I ask.

"Yeah, actually I have a picture of one of my sketches here," he says, pulling out his smartphone and handing it to me. On the phone is an image of one of the most artfully done sketches I've seen in a while. At least at first you'd think it's just a normal guy living life, but if you look at it any longer, you see so many other things hidden behind it. Like the way the guy's eyes hide a hint of sadness behind them, or the girl in the background turning away, or the old couple in the corner smiling at eachother while holding hands. I hand his phone back, speechless.

"So, what'd you think?" he asks.

"It's.. um... how'd you do that?" I ask.

"Well, I used a mix of pencil and paper-"

"No, I mean, how did you come up with that?"

"I'm not sure I understand."

"Well, what's the meaning behind it?" Now I'm the one asking all the questions. 

"Umm...There's no story behind it," he's smiling a bit, but this time it's out of embarrasment, and is suddenly very interested in the marks on the table.