Chapter 10 - Art

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I tapped my pencil, zoned out toward the end of my day in my elective class, art. I hated being in art, I wasn’t talented in anyway. I was sitting alone at a big table, watching as everyone paired up, laughed, they had friends. It was strange; I didn’t feel like I was missing anything.

I heard the door open and close with a loud bang. I looked up to see Harry with a black shirt on that hugged his very well built body and a pair of dark wash jeans, his necklace shining against his skin. He had on a beanie. The art teacher, Mrs. Hollas, smiled brightly at him and they began to talk. I couldn’t hear much but it was by far the most animated I had ever seen him, in his speech and facial expression. I went back to my drawing, in reality it was just scribbles.

I heard his feet as he walked past me, and into a spare room just off the very large main one where most students were, the whole class was in the shape of an L. I watched as he pulled his shirt over his head, seeing the line of his spine, the ripples of muscles, but it wasn’t overkill like when Taylor flexed at me. I saw another tattoo just for a moment before a big, junky plaid shirt fell over his skin. I bit my lip; I never really saw a guy’s body before. Were they all that nice?

He turned, and saw my staring. I dropped my eyes and went back to scribbling, my skin boiling red. He walked past me carrying a big board and an easel. He grabbed an arm full of paints, and left the room. I didn’t know he was artistic, I truthfully knew nothing of him.

I went back to zoning out, not in this class at all. I think Mrs. Hollas knew this, she never really harassed me. It’s why she was my favorite teacher.

Harry walked by me again; the canvas was facing away so no one could see. He changed, this time, I didn’t look. He left the room as the bell rang, and I walked to my locker. I saw a note fall to the floor after I opened it.

Liked what you saw there? I thought your name was Finley, not Tom.

I thought for a second, a heated blush creeping to my cheeks. He was referring to when I was watching him change, a Peeping Tom.

Okay. You were changing in a public place, I glanced up, and you had your shirt off. My name is Finley. It was perfectly innocent. And no, I liked nothing.

I hung it up, rolling my eyes at him. It was so strange, wasn’t it? This random guy, who I knew nothing about, writing me notes, was going into my locker for whatever mysterious reason? It didn’t make sense.

That night after school I waited a moment, hiding so he couldn’t see. I watched as he read the note, he actually smiled, and shook his head. He hung up another one, and stared at the locker for the longest time.

“I don’t see it,” I heard him say quietly. He shut the door, and walked away, his face was riddled with disappointment and… pain.

This really, really, made no sense.

I was exhausted the following day, staying up very late working on a mess of chemistry problems. I was sluggishly moving through my day, I couldn’t even think of a witty reply to Harry’s notes. I curled up against the tree, and drifted off at lunch time.

“Finley,” someone shook me. “Finley, wake up. Come on,”

“Hm?” I groggily opened my eyes, half asleep. Harry was staring at me, with an amused expression. “W-What?”

“You fell asleep, the bell rang. You’re going to sleep through the rest of your day.”

“Oh,” I sat up, shaking my head.


“V-Very, I d-didn’t get my ch-chemistry done till l-late.”

“I get that,” he helped me up, and quietly walked next to me. “I figured something was off, you had no response to my notes today.”

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