From Dusk Till Dawn

Chapter 13:Stubborn Lovers-Joseph's Pov

George laughs under his breath, butting me in the arm. "You drew her? I knew you had it bad for her." George chuckles taking my sketchbook from Viola.

"It's not like that George, now give it here!" I'm beginning to panic and feel heat rise to my cheeks." Instead of obeying he lifts it above his head. "Tell me how you really feel about her and then I'll give it back," teases George.

"Ma, tell him to give it back!" I whine to her but she's busy in conversation with the woman besides her.

"Look at your cheeks, they're turning pink." Smirks George. Viola giggles at George. "Now look who's the baby." I frown at Viola feeling betrayed by our ten minute friendship.

"It's from the cold. Close the window George." I'm more worried about the sketchpad flying out. But then again I'm worried about every single thing in my life right now.

Just as I feared the strong wind blowing in from the window blows out the window.

"Joseph I'm sorry, truly, I didn't mean to, it was an accident." George stutters in fear of my wrath.

I notice Viola has stopped laughing. "George, that was important. It had my greatest ideas drawn down in there. You just let it go you little shit." Closing my eyes, attempting to ease my anger, I get up to move seats.

"Sit your ass back down kid." One of the Soldiers from the front, instructs me.

With no choice I sit back down with my brother. "Please forgive me Joseph, it was an honest mistake. I'll buy you another one as soon as I can." Feeling unforgiving with the current events, I don't say a word to him. Instead I focus on the view of the right side instead of the left where Geroge sits.

It's all gone. I have plenty of sketchbooks back at home filled with my ideas but this book had a bunch of my favorites in it. Besides, how will I keep calm now with the only thing that helps my anxiety gone?

"Ma, Joseph is acting like a five year old and ignoring me." This time ma turns around. "He threw my Sketchbook out the window." I explained crossing my arms. "This would've never happened if you'd just confess your true feelings for the girl you love." Frowns George.

"You're in love with a girl?" Ma and the middle aged woman beside her smile at me. The middle aged woman was the last of us to get on the bus.

"No, I don't love her, we're friends. That's it." I look down at my hands trying to avoid conversation.

"Do you have a photograph of her?" The woman asks curiously. "My brother drew a picture of her." George chimes in. I shoot him a glare but all he does is smirk.

The middle aged woman puts a hand on her heart. "My papa was a painter, a spectacular one. He told me that when he first met my mama he was so nervous that he could never find the right words to tell her how he felt. He was not the best at speaking to her but what he was good at was painting. My papa told me painting was another form of speaking for him." The woman smiles as if she's remembering him.

"He painted his feelings down and painted her. One day my mama went into our family bakery in Italy to buy some bread for her family when she saw him painting. My papa just about died of embarrassment." She chuckles.

Viola and about five other people have gone quiet to listen to the woman's story.

"Did she fall in love with him after that?" Viola asks curiously. The gentle woman shook her head with a small grin.

"She was the most stubborn woman anyone knew for miles and hid her feelings for him. Quite well as he mentioned to me. They started out as friends though. Good friends. Well,that friendship eventually became a kindling romance. Four years after she walked into our family owned bakery, they married." A few people make gushy faces at the woman with full hearts. She tucks a piece of dark hair behind her ear.