** In chapter twenty I begin to write in third person, it is much more descriptive and easier to work with, sorry for the sudden switch up, enjoy! edit: I AM GOING BACK TO MAKE IT ALL 3RD PERSON
"Your grass is purple."
He had no idea. Like how he didn't know the reflection of light was green, and his gradual shading was multi-colored. He would have never guessed.
"I- uh- I think it adds character, excitement if you will," he pressed his eyes shut, regretting showing up as he always had, as he faced her. Her curls flowed down from her toboggan cap and her teeth along with her tongue shown as she let out an open mouth laugh as she faced her own canvas.
"It's cute," she said, half of her body hid behind the canvas, her right arm showed her swift movements on the page," carefree- if you will."
Her lips pulled together to showcase her the deep set dimple that traced her left cheek, her lips sat a few shades above her actual skin tone, glazed in a pink natural tint, that, of course, he couldn't see. He could, though, make out her plump lips that expanded as she smiled. It made it harder to turn back to the girl as she had done this too.
"Yeah, I think there's every color in every color- if that makes sense- like, they're all together on the color wheel, so they all are one- somehow," he looked down at his brush that he he now held in his lap, pursing his lips unable to face the girl due to her beauty and his embarrassment. As he did this, his eyebrows shown his own confusion in the twisted thought that made no sense at all. She let out a breathy laugh, looking down, at her own painting, and then back at him.
"Ah, that's why your sky is green, right?"
"No- yes- well you know the sky reflects the sea, so that's why it's green."
"I actually heard the water of the sea reflects the sky, and that's why the sea is blue," she looked up at the ceiling pondering her thoughts,"yeah. Blue."
"Yeah, I knew it was something like that," I turned back to my canvas, adding colors, maybe not even ones that went together, I had forgotten which paints I had used from before.
Why couldn't I have done drawing? Everything's grey or black, sometimes you add color, but I'm pretty sure it's not as much as painting. You can't even shade with painting, unless you were some kind of Van Gogh, I don't even think he did that, and if he did I still wouldn't trust him, the guy pulled his damn ear off. Maybe I'd be some kind of Ray Charles, but instead of being fully blind and playing the piano I could be color blind with paint. Except he can actually do his right, and he had it harder than me.
The clock had hit two, and I was still sitting in my chair with my thoughts, I bet Van Gogh or Ray could've kept up with time better than I could.
"Hey creative, it's two," the same girl from before tapped my shoulder with the end of her brush.
"Oh, yeah, thanks," I stood up grabbing my brushes, I had no desire to wash them- as of right now of course. Every time after each session I go home and convince myself I'm going to stop paying them and riding up that stupid steep hill on my bike, but usually I find my self at twelve forty-five, vigorously scrubbing them before the next meeting, simply because "painting can help me somehow". Somehow the cycle still continues and I have no desire to stop it.
I shove the brushes in the side pocket of my bag and throw it over my shoulder and quickly walk toward the door.
"What's the hurry, creative?"
I want to see if my ten speed hasn't been chalked off the sidewalk, we're on the bad side of town and my legs won't take me as far as quick.
Instead I go with a," I've got to get to work."
"Oh, where do you work?"
I don't, I live with my best mate and he worries that I'll die because I can't tell the difference between blue and red.
"The book store on Bluebird."
"Nice, I live near there, you need a ride? I know that ten speed out there isn't very fun to ride down that hill."
"How'd you know it was mine?"
"I saw you drop it and run in, you weren't the only one late," she laughed as we walked down the long halls that looked like it was straight out of a horror film, but we all knew it was just the manager not wanting to dig into his pocket to fix the light," how about that ride?"
"Yeah, I'd love one, thanks."
"Cool, what your name, creative?"
"Zayn."
She smiled,"Malia," she stuck out her hand with a smile, I gladly shook it. Her smile grew, even though my world was dull her beam shone though my realm.