The Artist and The Dancer

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Talk.

Dedicated to @-chanel for the cover at the top! Thank you!!! 💖

Cruel by Zayn? Girl Talk Boys by 5sos? Luke Robert Hemmings birthday?

Chapter Twenty Eight: "Talk."

"YOU GUYS DON'T talk anymore?" Wesley asked me through the phone.

"We kind of avoid each other well I'm avoiding him." I told him, rolling over to my stomach on my bed and thinking about how I was at his house twice and he wasn't there.

It was Wednesday and Lucas and I haven't spoken to each other since Monday considering what had happened. I did avoid him. I could see him walk down the hallway with Devin and I would automatically go through a different hallway. Plus I would actually arrive at school at least three minutes before the bell would ring so he hasn't come to my locker also I would practically run out of third to steer clear of him.

So yeah, I was avoiding him.

Wesley groaned. "I'm sorry I still can't get other the fact that he didn't say anything. What a dick."

I was about to retort and tell Wesley not to call Lucas a dick but held myself back, rolling again to look up at my ceiling. "Whatever. It's whatever."

"C'mon Sid. I know it's not whatever. You actually like this guy, it's not a middle school crush, it was- it is the real deal. You like him a lot."

"Thanks for reminding me." I blew out air before sitting up and looking over at the window. It was getting cold seeing as it was November and I wore a sweater despite the heater being turned on in the house. It was actually so cold that at school everyone that was in the quad relocated to the cafeteria including the little group I was part of and Joey and Lydia's group of friends.

"He's an idiot."

"He's not an idiot." I sighed.

"Yes he is. You're my best friend Sid. If that guy can't realize what a great person you are then he's an idiot and doesn't deserve you."

There was a moment of silence between the two of us and I forcefully changed the subject. "How's school?"

"How are you?"

"I asked you a question Wes." I almost whined.

"I'm not answering the question like you're my mom Sid." 

"I'm not answering your question like you're my therapist Wesley." I muttered back.

"So clearly by my observation this has affected you more than I thought it would."

"You know how you liked Grace for like four years?" I asked him. Grace was a girl Wesley had spent half of high school and elementary school stuck over. He was practically in love with her. But then when he finally tried going after her, he got shut down. Badly. But he was over it now.

"Yeah."

"I'm possibly feeling exactly how you felt in grade ten."

"Oh shit."

"Yeah." I clipped out, tracing the windowsill with my finger.

Wesley sighed and I heard voices in the background. "Sydney, I'll call you in a bit, my mom's calling me out. Just hang in there okay."

"I'm holding on, talk to you later." I told him, leaning my head against the window and hanging up.

I got up looking at the shelf my mom had put up somehow was now over my desk. I had put the big trophies on there, including the three National trophies I had won from my solos. Even with some small trophies and medals on the shelf, not all could fit and were stuffed in a box in my closet.