Total pages in book: 174
Estimated words: 173355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 693(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 867(@200wpm)___ 693(@250wpm)___ 578(@300wpm)
He’s ready to leave but I’m not ready to let him go. So I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind just as he’s about to turn around. “Uh, have you thought about growing out your hair?”
And like yesterday, he halts in his tracks and throws me a look.
A baffled one because I’ve asked him such a stupid, abrupt question.
But at least he stopped and that’s all I wanted.
Actually that’s not true.
That’s not all I want.
I want something else. Something that I’ve decided, right now, right this second as the afternoon light hits him and makes him glow, that it’s a good thing — the right thing — despite everything.
Despite my plans.
In fact it should help my plans.
“What?” he asks, his tone baffled as well.
I swallow, hugging the book, almost losing my nerve. “I-I mean, don’t get me wrong. Your short hair looks great.” I wave a hand at his cheeks. “It brings out your cheekbones and your jaw line and everything. But I’m thinking — from an artist’s perspective — that maybe you should think about growing out your hair a little. You might like it. How free it is and how you can feel the wind in your hair. It might look good on you.” I shake my head at myself because I’m beating around the bush right now, and then just go for it. “But that’s not important. The important thing is that I need your help.”
He keeps staring at me, the baffled look still in place before he cocks his head to the side, his eyes narrowed. “Have I thought about growing out my hair because it might look good on me. And you need my help. Is that the gist of it?”
I clear my throat. “Just the second part. The first part about the hair was…”
“Useless,” he supplies the word.
My cheeks warm and I mumble, “Not really but okay.”
He then goes ahead and folds his arms across his chest and widens his feet, as if planting himself in front of me. “So what do you need my help with?”
Okay, good.
He took the bait.
I clear my throat again. “With, uh, my college applications.”
“What about your college applications?” he asks, blank-faced.
“So as you know, I’m applying to art schools,” I begin. “And since it’s an art school, they require art. Like a portfolio. With sketches and stuff. And I have them. I do. But they’re not like, where I want them to be. Quality wise. And I realize it’s because I’m sort of blocked.”
“Blocked.”
I nod. “Yes. Like creatively. And so I was thinking…” I lick my lips, which are drying out under his heavy scrutiny. “I know that you were opposed to the idea before. When I asked you, back in your office. I mean, you shut the door in my face so I’d say you hated it. The idea. But I was wondering if you’d reconsider.”
With his jaw set in a firm line, he watches me a beat before asking in a flat tone, “Reconsider what.”
I press the book to my chest and clamp my thighs together where his name is. “The idea. That I proposed, of drawing you. Can I?”
It’s a dangerous question.
On many levels.
One of which is that on the surface, it looks like me going against the original plan of moving on from him. But it’s really not. It’s going to help me move on from him.
Because I’ve realized something this very second.
I’ve realized that he really is everywhere.
I mean, I knew that, but what I’m saying is that since he’s going to be around at St. Mary’s, I’m going to run into him. I’m going to watch him being all silent and commanding at practice, or run laps early in the morning. I’m going to watch him get hit on by other girls. I’m going to watch him take care of Callie.
I’m going to watch him… take care of me as well.
By giving me his hoodie even though I didn’t need it yesterday. Or by grabbing a book for me from the shelf. Even though I almost had it.
And this obsession of mine, this curiosity would just never end.
So this is the way to end it.
This is the way to kill my curiosity about him.
If I get to spend some time with him, talk to him, draw him to my heart’s content, I wouldn’t need to think about him late at night. I wouldn’t need to draw his name on my thighs.
I wouldn’t need to dream about him, if I spend my waking hours with him.
So this is it.
This is how I will move on.
So I keep going, for the sake of my friendship with his sister and for the sake of my own sanity. “It’s just that your face really inspires me. It gets my creative juices flowing, so to speak. So this would really help me out. Because again as I told you, I’m trying for a scholarship and I need to bring my A game for that. And you’re a teacher, right? It’s practically your duty to help a student, so yeah. Would you let me draw you?”