The Art of Falling in Love

Chapter Six

I loved painting the minute I touched a paintbrush. It is the only thing that came naturally to me. I tried music, but I was and still am shit at that. I tried sports, but I am as uncoordinated as a drunk man at a bar. I even tried gardening, but I would always forget to water the plants.

My parents are both academically smart. They always wanted me to become a doctor or a lawyer, but as time passed, they realized I just wasn't like them. Still, they supported me endlessly while I tried to find my passion. It wasn't until my aunt bought me my first paint set for kids that I realized my love for art. Despite the fact that I would never get into med school like them, they support my art.

"I didn't know Thalia painted," Noah gently runs a finger against the oil painting in fascination. "It's a beautiful painting."

"Thanks," I smile as he turns to me, surprised. "I painted it for her birthday two years ago."

Noah looks back at the painting. "It's amazing," He says genuinely. "You should paint something for me one day."

"We still have the rest of the rooms to clean," I tell him, unable to take compliments very well. "We should work on the guest rooms that definitely have unholy things lying around."

Noah chuckles, nodding. "You know, when I said that I'd like to spend time with you, I didn't mean picking up used condoms."

"I hope you never mean that."

"Well," Noah winks. "I wouldn't mind in certain situations."

It takes a moment for Noah's joke to make sense to me. I scowl at him, grab the pillow on Thalia's bed and throw it directly at him. Noah laughs, catching the pillow easily.

"That's not very nice," He says, putting the pillow back on the bed. "You could hurt this beautiful face."

"I hate to break it to you, but you don't have Damon's face." I pout as though disappointed, even though Noah is quite possibly the best looking guy I had ever met.

Noah frowns, crossing his arms. "I knew it. You're just using me to get close to Damon."

I shrug, grinning. "That's all you're good for anyway."

"I'm good for a lot of things," Noah smirks. "How about you let me show you?"

I stare at him for a moment with no expression. "What do girls see in you?" I sigh.

"There's a bed right here, Diana," Noah winks. "I'm thinking we lock the door and—"

"Noah, shut up."

❀ ❀ ❀

After Noah's ridiculous amount of insults and flirting, we finally finish cleaning all the guest bedrooms. We meet up with the others in the living room, and it seems like everyone else is also finished with cleaning. There are at least twelve garbage bags sitting by the front door.

"As shitty as that cleanup was, the party was worth it." Jasper grins.

"Was it really?" A voice at the entrance asks, full of distaste.

We all turn in shock towards the front door to find Jasper and Thalia's parents standing with suitcases by their feet. Thalia and Jasper's jaws drop as they look at their parents silently. Shit.

"Surprise." The Thompson's dad says meekly, looking at the garbage bags on the floor.

"You weren't supposed to come back for another week." Jasper manages to say.

Their mother raises an eyebrow. "We wanted to surprise you two. We didn't think you guys would throw a party five days after you got back into town."

"Well," Thalia mutters. "We're surprised."

"So are we," Their dad grins. "How was the party?"

Their mother glares at her husband. "That's not how you react when you find out your children threw a party when they weren't supposed to."

Their dad shrugs. "Listen, it doesn't look like anyone we care about died and they did cleanup..."

Their mother turns her attention back to her kids. "How are my European vases?"

Jasper grins, "In perfect condition."

"Don't give me that smile," Ms. Thompson snaps. "They sure as hell better be in perfect condition or I will be digging your graves."

Thalia chuckles nervously. "No graves necessary today, mom."

That is about the moment the rest of us decide to leave. "Come on, Diana, I can give you a ride home." Noah grabs his car keys from his pocket and walks over to a sleek, black Mercedes Benz. My jaw almost drops at the sight of the car.

"There's no way you bought this." I deadpan as I slide into the passenger side, the leather seat cozy.

"My dad did," Noah tells me, starting the engine. "My parents are divorced but he likes to give me gifts in hopes of keeping a relationship. I don't mind his new family, his kids are really cute and his wife seems nice, I just wish he would make more of an effort to see me."

"How often do you see him?" I ask hesitantly, unsure if he wants to talk about it.

Thankfully, Noah doesn't seem to mind, "Once a year, maybe. He sees me during Christmas to drop off an expensive gift and then I don't see him until the next year. Harley wants nothing to do with him."

"Have you ever thought about visiting him?"

Noah grimaces. "All the time. But he's just always so busy and I don't know his wife very well so I'm hesitant to visit."

"He needs to make time for you," I say softly. "You're worth it, and I think you want a real relationship with him; not this weird once-a-year drop by. One of you has to take initiative to see  the other. It should be him, but you're brave enough for it to be you."

One of his arms is resting on the ledge of his rolled down window, his other hand clutching the bottom of the steering wheel comfortably. He turns to me and smiles a little bit, the wind tussling his hair. He looks so pretty right now.

"And you're a breath of fresh air," Noah chuckles. "I love Damon and Hunter, but I could never go to them for advice. They listen well, and are both super empathetic, but now I know who to go to when I want some real suggestions."

"Hunter and Damon? Bad at advice?" I gasp, holding my hand to my chest. "Who would have thought?"

Noah rolls his eyes, "everyone on this damn planet."

A/N: painting by David Seguin.