"Josh, what have I told you about sticking to one area of the picture? Now, if you want to paint the part you were about to paint, you'll have make the colour again as it's all dried up on your plate," my art teacher explains to Josh, a classmate of mine with neon yellow hair and bits of paint splattered on his hands and his Panic! At The Disco top. He just nods as the art teacher continues to rant about his work. She finally leaves our table, and moves onto another poor soul.
"I don't think she likes me," Josh whispers to me. I smile at him.
"To be honest with you, anyone who she generally gets along with is lucky as heck. Sadly, we're not some of the lucky ones," I whisper back. He chuckles, licking his bottom lip then biting it slightly as he concentrates on mixing the paint on his plate using the little brush just to deliberately annoy our art teacher; she hates it when anyone mixes with the little brush instead of the big brush as it ruins them. I look over at my friend, Y/F/N, on the opposite side of the room, who seems to be in a deep conversation about how messed up humanity is with the boy on her table.
"Right," my art teacher announces, "remember tonight you've got to come back until half past five in order to complete your exam book as the exam starts tomorrow." Several people groan in frustration, obviously rethinking their life choices about choosing to do Art as a GCSE.
"Ugh, do we have to, Miss?" A girl who likes to regularly pick arguments with our art teacher asks.
"Yes, it's compulsory! Now, please pack up so that we can go on time." About 15 students rush to the back of the class to use the two sinks, causing a queue.
"I'll just put my painting in the drying rack, and pack up my bag in order to waste time," I say, getting up and deliberately walking past Josh just so that I can admire him. I hear him get up after me, and - whilst I put my painting in the drying rack - I see another pair of arms covered in a black hoodie put his painting in the shelf above mine.
"Great minds think alike, right? And by the way, I've cleared both your plate and my plate," Josh says. I just nod, feeling my cheeks go a bit red. He's such a gentleman.
"Hey, Y/N," Y/F/N says, "see you tonight."
"Let's see how many people actually turn up," I say softly so that my art teacher won't hear me. The bell rings, and I grab my bag (after packing it up), and walk out into the corridor where I see Josh (who's shoved on his beanie hat) chatting with his friend, Tyler.
"Hey, Y/N, how are you?" Tyler asks me, as we fist bump each other.
"You mean apart from questioning why I ever choose to do Art as a GCSE? I'm good."
"You do Art GCSE? I though you just stared at Josh for 50 minutes," he says, nudging Josh.
"No, it's because I enjoy it!" I say, playfully shoving him.
"Hey, you kids go outside and enjoy the sunshine. And take that hat off before I confiscate it!" a teacher snaps at us. We start walking down the corridor as Tyler continues to tease me. Josh is in the middle, drinking a carton of Capri Sun.
"You mean you enjoy staring at Josh? Ladies and gentlemen, she finally admits it!" Tyler says, clapping his hands.
"Oh, please," Josh says, going a bit red, "it's not like you took two languages to just stare at Jenna the whole time!" This time it's Tyler who goes red.
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When the bell goes at 3:15pm, I trudge up all the way from the Science corridor to the top floor where the Art department is. Once I'm in the room, I slam my bag down on my chair, and sigh.
"Rough day?" Josh asks. I notice he has his earbuds in his hands, ready to put them in his ears and shut out the world; that's the good thing about catch up sessions - you can listen to music.
"You could say that again," I smile, getting up and retrieving my supplies from the back. I take out my sketch book, and flip to my colour study of Travis Barker, the drummer of one of my favourite rock bands, blink-182. I start mixing the paint to get the right colours for the t-shirt that Travis is wearing in the photo.
"I sometimes forget you like blink," Josh says.
"What are you talking about? Of course I love blink! I'm wearing a jumper with them on right now," I say, tugging at my blink-182 jumper with the art work for their album, "California" on it. I roll up my sleeves, revealing my many bracelets, and I start painting.
"Yeah, but sometimes you talk about other bands."
"Is that a bad thing?" I tease him. He doesn't answer, and I feel like I've annoyed him, but then I can hear Green Day blasting through his earphones. I nudge his foot with mine, our trainers squeaking as they briefly rub together.
"Y/N, concentrate on your own work," my art teacher says, walking over to me. I take out one side of my earbuds, and mentally prepare myself for the lecture that I'm about to receive.
"That's good," she says, causing Josh to sit up in surprise, "however you need to get the right colour of the drums. They're not blue, they're a purple/blue colour. Paint it white, let it dry, then - once you've got the right colour - paint it again."
"Ok, Miss," I say. She then goes to see Josh's painting. She sighs.
"Look, what did I tell you this morning? You need to make that exact colour!"
"I've forgotten how to make it, Miss," Josh says sheepishly.
"Here, look at what I'm doing," the teacher snaps, snatching the paint brush out of his hand, and - tutting at his white nail polish - starts mixing the paints to get the right colour.
"There! Done!" She says, handing him the brush.
"Thanks," Josh says politely, although I can tell he's not amused. I shoot him a reassuring smile.
"You can do this," I say to him.
"Gosh, tomorrow is going to suck," Josh says sadly.
"It will," I say, "but at least we've got each other to help each other through it."
"Y/N, will you go out with me? I mean, I know it's sudden, but we're both close friends, and I think you're beautiful, and, um, yeah. Sorry," Josh apologies.
"That's fine - to both things. I'd gladly be your girlfriend. So, uh, you free tomorrow night?" I say whilst still painting.
"I feel like we might have to stay behind again," Josh says with a sad sigh.
"Well then," I say, leaning forward towards him, "that's a perfect dating activity, isn't it? Painting whilst enjoying each other's company."
"Yeah, it is. Oh, I forgot to give you this," Josh says, getting his bag and producing a red rose from it. He hands it to me, and I gratefully take it, our fingers touching briefly.
"Thank you," I whisper. I don't get an answer from him. I get something better:
A kiss on the lips.