All The Colors Of You || Bang Chan

Chapter Nine - Chan

I can't look at her.
Every time I do, my heart skips a beat and I blush like an idiot.
I buried myself in my work for hours as she was painting Bin, trying my hardest not to listen to their conversation or sneak too many glances at her.
It worked a little bit.

But, good Lord, now that we're alone, there is no hiding anymore.
I never felt like this before in my life.
Sure, I've loved and figured myself out. I've been in love before, I had been in relationships before.
And I'm not saying I love her, we've only known each other a few days - but just looking at her makes me happy.
Watching her work, watching her just be, inspires me.

Neither of us speaks as she cleans her palette in the sink in the small bathroom.
My thoughts have been circling our conversation since I came back home that night, but I don't know how to pick it back up.

"Alright," she finally steps behind the canvas again and starts picking up different tubes of paint from the floor around her.
She squeezes a bit of everything onto the palette and then places it down to tie up her hair.
I glance away but my eyes have a life of their own and so I watch carefully as her fingers rake through her hair, notice the soft slope of her neck, and how the tip of each strand curls like an orange peel.

My eyes flit away before she can look at me.
I straighten my back and clear my throat, looking ahead.
I can feel her eyes on me, but I don't react.
After a moment of silence, she chuckles lightly.
The softness of it surprises me enough to finally lay my eyes on her.
She smirks and has one eyebrow pulled up teasingly.
"You know," she says, "It wouldn't hurt to smile a little bit."

Immediately, heat crawls up my neck, into my cheeks, and over the tips of my ears.
"Oh," I let out a shaky laugh, "Sorry."
"Don't be sorry," Perrie responds, "We don't need to be all stiff around each other, we're not strangers. Right?"
"Right." I roll my shoulders and take a deep breath, trying to relax.

Perrie hums and finally wets her brush in an old mason jar filled with water.
I can hear the brush scrape against the canvas.
Then she says, "You have a wonderful bone structure. That jaw, just gorgeous. You must get a lot of fashion shoot deals."
I almost suffocate on my own breath.
My eyes widen and I look at her, but she's halfway hidden behind the tall canvas.
She's not even looking at me.
How can she say something like this so nonchalantly?

Okay, I'll just play it cool. It's no big deal.
"No, not really," I say then, trying to sound casual, "Hyunjin and Felix get a lot. They're prettier than me anyways, so it makes sense. They have that-... I don't know. They're just so good looking. They're way better looking than me."
I clean my throat.
I didn't intend to say that, but it's true. Still, it feels like I've just revealed too much of me.
It's not a secret, I know that. The whole world probably knows that I'm not one of the visuals of the band, but still-... a part of me wishes for Perrie not to agree with me.

Perrie is quiet, so quiet that I don't know if I sound ridiculous or weak or idiotic. She probably thinks I'm fishing for compliments.
In an effort to save face, I add, "You can probably see it as well, since you're an artist and all. The two of them are really pretty and like-.. really handsome. They have those model faces."

Perrie turns her body until she can look straight at me around the edge of the canvas.
She's smiling gently and her eyes are warm and calm, when she says, "The two of them are really pretty, that's true. But, personally, I  prefer an interesting face over a conventionally pretty one. I like a big nose or strong brows. A pronounced jaw and delicate collarbones. I like when a face has quirks, or imperfections. They tell so many stories about that person."

She looks away to dip her brush into the mason jar.
Without looking at me, she adds, "So, I do think Felix and Hyunjin are very pretty but-... I guess, pretty boys have never really been my type."
I hold my breath. I swallow thickly and flex my fingers by my side.
I try to think of something clever to say, something witty and smooth.

My brain short-circuits.
"Oh?" I want to slap myself in the face. But now that I've opened my mouth the words just fall out. "And what is your type then? I mean, you don't have to tell me, it's really none of my business-..."
I trail off and glance from the balcony door to Perrie's shoes, to a tub of titanium white paint by the desk, to a set of painted canvases leaning against the wall.
Finally, I glance back to her.

Our eyes meet, and she holds my stare.
Then she smirks, and lets her eyes travel over my face, down to my shoulders, over my entire body and back to my face.
Then she raises an eyebrow and dips her chin, the sly grin still on her lips.
I know she's telling me in her own way, that - however improbable it feels to me - I am her type.

I purse my lips but I can't help smiling, so I look away.
I don't know what to do with this revelation.
It's different when someone is so straightforward with their interest.
Although she hasn't actually said anything directly, this moment between us makes me feel just like the one between us two days ago on her balcony.
When she had asked if I was interested in dating.
Could have been casual interest, the way friends make casual conversation.
But something about the way she looks at me gives me the feeling it's not just that...

Something about the way she glances at me from her bright eyes right now makes me think there's more to it.
Or maybe it's just my silly little heart, filling me up with hope for something new.