Meet Derina Williams, every guy's dream girl. She's smart and popular, extremely rich and the most beautiful girl in school.
What happens when she meets her match in attitude and ego.
Mason Anderson will do everything to get under her skin. And he'...
"Are you going to come inside now?" Mason asked me impatiently.
"It's not my mistake that this," I gestured to the room and walked in trying to take everything in. "-has put me into shock mode." I looked at him and he smirked.
"Hey what can I say? I'm talented. But I'm hurt that you find this shocking and unbelievable." He put his free hand on his heart in mock hurt.
"You're a narcissist." I said and didn't wait for him to reply just walked to see all the paintings closely.
So there were hundreds of paintings. There were large windows. The room was really simple and different from the whole house. And I didn't want to boost his ego so much, but the paintings were amazing. I'm sure every painting had a meaning. I didn't know how much time it would take to actually look at each and every painting in the room.
What caught my attention after some time, wasn't a big canvas, but it was a paper which was fallen on the floor with many other papers.
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It was a simple water color painting of a girl which turned into fire. Now, I knew exactly what it was. Every paper had fire patterns on it. Honestly, I actually thought there would be a canvas like that which would show the fire scene but there were papers which had what I expected.
"Why am I not surprised to see this?" I said and showed him the paper.
"Oh, it's uh-, nothing actually." He said.
"It shows your guilt. A drawing is about what you can make others see through it." I said to him and walked there.
He was looking at me, almost staring. As if he couldn't believe I was speaking all that. Yeah I don't know how to paint and all but I know how artists draw what they draw and why they draw the particular scene.
"Do you still blame yourself?" I asked him. "Because, if you're going to say yes then maybe the reason for your accident was me. The conversation we had, actually not the conversation, you didn't say anything. It was me who screamed at you. So should I blame myself?" I asked a bit harshly.
But then the moment when he lay on the hospital bed unconscious, came into my mind. Whatever I said to him came rushing back to me. He didn't remember, didn't hear any of it. I knew he wouldn't hear it obviously. But I wanted him to know what I felt for him. But it was so hard to speak like this, when facing him. We both are incapable of doing it.
"Obviously not. Look I didn't know what to say when you said all that to me before the race." He said.
"Are you seriously still stuck on that? Mason, we met after two years. That's a hell lot of time. And you still have nothing to say to me?"
