Art Class With My Enemy

Chapter Thirteen

"What's up with him?" I wondered out loud. Mason and Harlow shrugged, though I didn't miss a small glance they gave each other. I'd have to ask Harlow about that later.

*****

Gage

There was something wrong with me. Maybe I was dying, or going crazy. There had to be something wrong with me since I couldn't stop thinking about Dakota. Big problem? Hell yeah!

Ever since I took her home after the homecoming dance, I haven't been able to think about anything—or anyone—else. It's so pathetic. And our moment in the hotel room, when we stared into each other's eyes for a long minute? Let's just say it brought back feelings that I forgot I had.

But I had to stay away from her. I had to avoid her when I could and argue with her so she wouldn't notice that I was starting to think differently of her. After all, it's not like she feels the same way. She was the one who rejected me years ago when I told her how I felt, and she'd reject me again in a heartbeat. Even though I was serious about loving her back then, I didn't think I could feel anything stronger than that feeling—until now.

Damn, I sound like such a dork. See, this is why I need to ignore my feelings for her and focus on insulting her instead. It was easier to ignore my feelings than to feel rejected.

"Alright, listen up class," Mrs. Wilson commanded. I sighed and sat back in my seat, wondering what project she could possibly come up with now. I guessed it was something for the gallery she was organizing, which she had already spoken to me about.

Yes, I was a talented artist. It's not something I brag about because I'm better known as a jock player of the school. Plus, I don't feel the need to advertise something that I genuinely like doing in my spare time. Painting and drawing are things I want to spend my entire life doing, so I'm not going to let school interfere. However, Mrs. Wilson knew how talented I was already. She told me that I should submit some extra pieces of mine, where they'd be sold and could benefit the art program.

"As I've briefly mentioned before, the fall gallery is approaching. Therefore, your new priority in this class will be that," Mrs. Wilson continued. "Now, I want you to submit at least one individual project and one project with your usual partner. You can choose whatever medium and subject you want, just make sure it's school appropriate."

"How will we finish in time?" some kid—Brent? Brad?—asked.

"I was getting to that, Brian," Mrs. Wilson said coldly. "In order for you to finish, you will have to dedicate some of your time to work on it at home. If you don't have supplies for your project at home, you can work on it in here after school," she finished.

After we started working on our individual projects for a while, the bell finally rang to dismiss the class, prompting the students to practically race out of the classroom. Dakota stopped to talk to Mrs. Wilson, so I lingered at my table as I packed my things up. As I approached them, I heard the end of their conversation before Mrs. Wilson stopped me.

"—so I can't stay after," Dakota finished.

"Well here's your partner now. Tell me, Gage, don't you have a studio in your home?" the teacher asked me.

I suddenly regretted mentioning that to her when she asked how I became a talented artist. "Yes," I answered.

"Then it's settled! Dakota, you can work on your project with your partner at his house. I'm sure he has the supplies you'll need," she finalized. I saw Dakota's shoulders slump in defeat, which made angry. I'm sure she wasn't as disappointed as me.

"Sound good?" Mrs. Wilson asked with an eyebrow raised.

"Perfect," I said through gritted teeth. The teacher nodded, dismissing us. I didn't need to take another hint. I stomped out of the classroom, barely realizing that Dakota was close behind.