You're creepy," Talia says, very certain of herself and, okay, I am...affronted.
She comes into my kitchen, eats all of my pasta and now she's telling me I'm creepy whilst I slave over remaking my entire meal (of plain pasta that takes ten minutes tops but it's still hard okay)?
Not on, Talia Alpin. Not on at all.
"I'm not creepy!" I defend, lip jutting out as I accidentally pour too much pasta into the pot. Oh well, looks like I'm eating cold pasta for breakfast tomorrow.
Talia's face might as well spell out 'I am patronizing you right now' because she slowly raises an eyebrow at me (seriously, like... escalator slow) and says in a ridiculously even voice, "You're literally creating an entire project around someone and he doesn't even know."
I crumple up the empty packet of pasta and (try to) throw it into the trash.
It misses.
Fuck.
"It's art. Art is not creepy."
Slight lie. I've certainly seen some creepy art in those books I've been reading lately– but Talia doesn't need to know that.
"When did you become such an artist, huh? I thought you only cared about fish."
I stalk over to the plastic that fluttered mockingly to the floor and shove it in the trash, consider throwing myself in there too (or Talia) but decide against it and instead turn back to my boiling mound of carbohydrate mush in the pot with a noncommittal noise.
"I'm kinda behind on fish," I admit, feeling desperately guilty for it because my marine life friends (my crew-staceans as they're referred to on the forum) have been messaging me saying they miss my fish meme page, but I've continued being pretty much MIA as of late.
"I've been reading up a lot on art lately, though! It's kinda cool," I say, feeling a certain warmth emerge at the simple thought of the subject.
Which is weird, considering I've never felt that before.
Smiling to myself, I take a wooden spoon off our marble counter and try to make sense of the gargantuan mess of melting pasta and cloudy boiling water in my cooking pot.
"You're studying art at university–I'd sure hope you'd think that," Talia quips and I pause my stirring of the goop just to glare at her until she asks, "But really? No fish?"
"Not no fish. Come on Talia, who do you think I am?"
I spent four hours last night watching documentaries and then another two getting in an intense discussion in the comment section of one over what exactly is the coolest fish (I figured it was the porcupine puffer because they're so fucking cute–but not everyone agreed).
"I just don't want to draw them anymore," I say simply, giving up on my congealed mess and opting to order food in instead. The first batch went so well... thanks, Talia.
I'm flicking through a menu I have bookmarked for a nearby Chinese restaurant online when Talia asks, "You mean you like portraiture better?"
I crinkle my nose in thought. Maybe. A little.
"Ehhhh."
"Or you like Kai Adkins better?"
Sending Talia daggers over my phone, I continue having a crisis over which chicken to buy.
"Yes, now shut up and leave me alone–important business."
Do I want sweet and sour or honey chilli chicken?
It's a little while later, when Luca's come home and we're all waiting for the food to arrive (they both forced me to buy them some too), that I decide to work a little more on my sketches to pass the time.
It's then Talia says, "Hey, how are you even going to submit all of this without having pictures? I thought you had to have proof of reference for observational drawings."
My pencil slows to a stop.
Oh.
"Fuck."
Talia snorts, patting my shoulder in faux-sympathy as Luca sweetly sighs, "Ah, the stupidity of young love."
"Shut up, Ruiz."
<・)))><<
Okay, I've easily made my way through a fifth of the portraiture books in the library by now, and have still not asked Kai even though he's right there every time I've read one of those books.
I have to ask him so I can take photos. See, I can't just take photos and submit them as part of my project and not ask. That's creepy.
Instead, I just keep drawing, as if Kai will tell me to use him for my art project, or something.
Which he won't.
The guy's no longer running away from me or being a bitch but he's not that bold.
Five minutes later, I've stuck my tongue out of my mouth in concentration and almost end up choking on it after Kai says, "Can I see? You never show me your art."
I can't show you my art, it is you.
"No, you can't see."
Kai looks somewhat stunned, eyes a little wider than usual and lips parted ever so slightly.
I feel a little bad.
But then Kai just frowns, rather determinedly and asks, "Why not?"
"You just can't!" I tell him, standing up, sketchbook tucked under my arm as I hastily say, "I need another book."
Sitting down in my usual spot (it's bad I have one of those) and taking out the same books, I have to say I'm thankful that Kai never studies in the same way because all of my drawings would probably look the same if he did.
I reach up to untuck my pencil from behind my ear, only to knock it out completely and have it roll under the bookshelf.
"Ugh, why me," I mutter, putting my book down beside me and crawling onto my stomach to reach under the shelf.
Finally grabbing the pencil in my hand, I startle so hard I hit my head off of the shelf after hearing someone say, "If you wanted to draw me you could've just asked, Mabel."
I crawl back hesitantly, and sit up on my knees to see Kai standing over me, sketchbook in hand.
My sketchbook in hand.
"Oh fuck, hi," I say, same as the first time we met in the library, and Kai seems to remember too as his eyes crinkle into that adorably amused smile of his.
"Who's the stalker, now?"
But he doesn't seem mad. Or creeped out. And those are both good signs.
I have an idea.
"Okay," I say, slipping out my phone from my back pocket and pressing on my camera app. "I'm gonna tell you something–so let me take a picture."
Kai's expression grows slightly dubious but he must be used to my whimsicality by now because he gives an agreeing nod, anyhow.
I hold up my phone, framing the boy's face who's peering down into it, the angle just below him and wow, he looks gorgeous with backlight. Not many people look gorgeous with backlight.
"I've been drawing you for a month or so now as my subject for my project and my professor really likes it but I was in too deep to actually ask you."
Click.
I tap onto my gallery, checking the photo with a grin.
Ah, my first, "observation".
"It's perfect," I say. More to myself than to Kai, who crouches down beside me, chin leaning on my shoulder as he checks out the photo, too.
Ah shit, I can physically feel my heart beat a little faster when the boy turns his head towards me and I feel him literally breathing on my cheek as he asks, "You're going to draw that?"
I then make the mistake of looking to my side to get a whole close-up of Kai Adkins and never mind my heart beating faster, it stops now. Or explodes. Or shrivels up.
"Yeah..." I say distantly, barely even hearing the words come out of my mouth because fuck.
"What do you think? Chalk pastels or acrylic?"