Love to Hate You

Chapter Eighteen

I skip my trip to Mrs. Boots classroom and instead head right over to Sean’s house. I take in the manicured lawn and white washed fence before opening the gate and jogging up the porch steps. His mom answers the door once again, but looks doesn’t frown at my appearance. I’m guessing she approves of my outfit this time.

“Come in, Sean will be up in a second.” She greets me pleasantly before disappearing to go and find him.

I stand in the entryway awkwardly. I hate it when people leave me alone on their welcome mat. Observing décor really isn’t my thing.

Finally, Sean appears and smiles when he sees me.

“Hey.”

“Hey, I have some news for you.” I grin.

He gives me a wary look and shoves his hands in his pockets.

“What’s up?” he asks, observing me over the frames of his glasses.

I lift the guitar pick necklace off from where it rests on my chest and swing it about, wiggling my eyebrows. He fingers his own absentmindedly.

“You’re kidding me.” He laughs, his face breaking out into a full-fledged grin.

I shake my head, “The Heartbreakers are reunited, for good.”

Sean steps forward to embrace me. I rest my head on his shoulder and smile. It really is good to be back.

“How on earth did you manage?” Sean asks while releasing me.

I tell him about my encounter with Justin which causes him to grin like an idiot.

“It’s gonna happen.” He smirks.

My eyebrows knit together, “Dream on.”

“You say you hate him, but that’s just code for I love you.”

“We’re seventeen. We don’t know what love is.” I point out.

He just slides his glasses up the bridge of his nose and answers, “Whatever you say.”

I huff and wave goodbye. I meet Austin and deliver the same message, receiving the biggest hug I’ve ever gotten in the process. He also mentioned something about saving his love-life but he’s a drama queen so I just laughed and left shortly afterward.

When I arrive at home I change into something comfy and sit down on my bed. A sudden spark goes off in my brain and I stand up, heading down to the office. It’s strange how I can get inspired in less than a second.

Routine takes over as I set up a fresh canvas and prime it. I start mixing paint, brushing hair out of my face with the back of my hand. The guitar picks dangles lazily from my neck as I reach across the table in search of a wide brush.  When I finally find it I pretty much attack the canvas with a light coating of midnight black paint. I can feel my imagination take flight as I layer and mix paint. My eyes and mind focused on the creation in front of me. I’m horrible at patience, so when it comes time to let the painting dry before adding the next layer, it takes every ounce of me to force myself out of the office for a little fresh air.

I wash my hands in the kitchen sink and dry them off slowly, not recognizing A.J.’s presence.

“You’ve been painting.”

I jump and see him eating a bowl of cereal at the breakfast bar. His short hair is messy and disheveled and his choice of sweatpants indicates he’s been in bed all day, probably studying.

“Uh, yeah?” I say while raising an eyebrow, “Does that surprise you?”

He sighs and stands up. He comes to stand in front of me, grasping my hand a shaking it so hard my arm jiggles.