Perfectly Imperfect

21

My excitement was almost unbearable on the next day. Michael's class seemed to drag to no end. He was looking at our chosen photos and was taken forever with each student. Unlucky could be my second name, because he'd made a list and my name was the last. I'd carried my small suitcase with me because as soon as the class finished, I'd be off to New York to see my best-friend.

Tired of waiting, I glanced up at the red-haired guy. Michael was still talking with Tyrell. They'd been conversing over the last twenty minutes. Where his pictures so blatantly brilliant or the opposite? Ugh. I slumped on my seat, placing the phone on the desk ahead of me. This sucks. Especially, because after him, it was Chris' turn. His name had been scribbled right on top of mine.

The sound of a rough chuckle made me snap my head at the source. Chris' green eyes glinted amused. "I'll let you go in front of me, if you stop tapping your feet." We hadn't been able to talk because he was working on something for the movie in his laptop.

Suppressing a smile, I pressed my lips together. "I'm not being annoying." He raised an eyebrow. My lips tugged up. Gosh, I love those eyebrows. They were full and well defined. Seriously, it wasn't fair to every girl out there, who plucked theirs to make them look polished. "I'm not," I added stubbornly.

"Still, I'm feeling benign." He winked at me. "You can go ahead of me."

My eyes casted down, to the manila folder lying on his table. "Can I see them?"

He rolled his jaw for a moment, thinking it through. "Okay." He passed me the folder but Michael called his name. We both glanced at our teacher. "Michael, if you don't mind, I'm letting Farah pass ahead of me."

Michael shrugged. "Yeah, okay, whatever." He gestured me to go to him and I complied.

"Thank you," I brushed my hand on top of Chris after I stood up. My heart flipped at the crookedly-boyish smile he showed me.

"I'll see you tomorrow." He bobbed his head, staring at me with burning eyes.

I can't wait.

Michael studied my photos from every possible angle. Seriously. He tilted his head several times and raised the photo to see it better under the light. With each picture.

No wonder he'd taken forever to go through everyone's work. Finally, he chose the one from the library. Not the one I wanted him to. He liked the one I thought was plain. Yet, I'd brought it because I'd aced the macro effect. I'd focused the lenses in a single red book from one of the rows. It was pretty because in the background, you could see a part of the library, along with the iconic green-lamps.

He was holding the photo in his hands, when he glanced at me. "This is the best shot, Farah. You captured a writer's essence here." I glanced down. I could only see a bright red cover. "You made this book stand out, just as writers make the effort to make their stories unique." I blinked at him. Okay? "I loved the fact that it was red. It makes a statement," he added placing the photo on the table. "This is going to be on the exposition." He sounded quite pleased with himself.

"Thank you." I didn't know what else to say. I'd fixated the camera's lens randomly.

He nodded. "You did quite well for an amateur, Farah. I'm glad you took advantage of this class. You really outdid yourself."

I scratched the back of my neck, before swallowing hard. The only thing that had stuck with me was the macro thing. Nothing more, and it was a pretty basic notion. Something that you could learn by yourself. In that moment, a pang of guilt played in my chest. My parents had spent money in a course where I'd learned nothing, really.