Without You

Chapter 13

"How can I forget that?" he replied with a slight smirk on his lips, lowering his gaze momentarily before fixing them again on mine. Despite the flirtatious undertone, it didn't register as such to me.

"So, why did you go to that nightclub?" I questioned, narrowing my eyes, and delving into the mystery that surrounded him.

"Oh... I went there to meet one of my clients. Client, in the sense, I am actually an artist, and I sell some of my paintings," he revealed, unveiling another layer of his identity. The revelation added an intriguing aspect to the mysterious aura that surrounded him.

"Wow, you're an artist. Who was the guy in your car? Is he your client?" I asked, adopting a tone that bordered on FBI interrogation, my curiosity piqued.

"No, he is my br... umm...best friend," he replied, the slight stammer in his response injecting a subtle nuance into the revelation.

"Oh," I nodded, absorbing this newfound information. "So, what kind of paintings do you make? I mean, my father is also an artist, so I have a bit of knowledge about artistry," I added, steering the conversation toward his artistic endeavors.

"Oh... wonderful, nice to hear that you know art. I make figurative art. What kind of art does your dad do?" he inquired, reciprocating the interest but unknowingly touching upon a sensitive topic.

"He... he usually does some kind of abstracts," I replied, the mention of my father inadvertently adding a bitter note to the conversation.

"Oh, that's wonderful. If I get a chance, then I will surely love to visit your house, to see your dad's artwork," he exclaimed, showcasing his genuine appreciation for art.

"Oh, fuck, I'm late. I have to go to the English Literature class. Would you like to join?" he asked, a sudden change in tone as he extended an invitation.

"Yeah, I have to go too," I replied, reciprocating the abrupt shift in the conversation, preparing to part ways as the demands of our respective schedules beckoned.

As we strolled down the corridor toward the class, he leaned in close, his voice a soft whisper in my ears, "We will continue about that topic later. It's quite interesting." A sly smirk played on my lips in response, acknowledging the shared intrigue that lingered between us.

"Oh, fuck. We are late. The class has already started, and this time Mrs. Stanley won't let me in," I exclaimed, leaning against the closed door of the class. He stood opposite me, a mere two feet away.

"She will let you in, just hold my hand," he replied, a chuckle escaping him. As he pushed the door open, our hands connected, drawing the attention of everyone, including my best friend, who looked utterly shocked.

"May we come in, Mrs. Stanley?" he asked politely, breaking the classroom silence. "Sorry for being late," he added, attempting to appease the situation.

"So, Miss Andrewson, you also let the quickest guy come late with you?" Mrs. Stanley teased; her tone surprisingly light. Laughter filled the room, a rare occurrence when it came to my tardiness. Thanks to Sheldon, things were taking an unexpected turn.

Without further delay, we made our way to the last seats, side by side. Mrs. Stanley continued, "So, students, we are here to quote all the important dialogues from Anna Karenina: Part 2, 11th chapter. Every student by pair, quotes the important dialogues." "Today, Miss Andrewson will get the best assistance," she playfully laughed at my expense for the second time.

"So, shall we start?" he asked me, pointing to the pencil on the page. I simply nodded, grateful for the unexpected turn of events.

"How could someone be so ashamed after having sex with the person he loved the most?" I murmured to myself, caught in the intricate web of my thoughts. Unfortunately, he overheard my whispered contemplation.