Ok, this is just really a bit of cute, fluffy fun, it isn't supposed to be that great, but i would still like opinions on it, and suggestions on how to improve it.
Thanks.
♥ Art Boy
He has brown hair. Not dark brown, not light brown, something-in-the-middle brown. It’s not very long, but it’s not short either. It’s just long enough to be considered shaggy, or floppy even. It doesn’t have a particular style. It just kinda sits there, on top of his head, sometimes hanging in front of his eyes.
I love his hair.
His eyes...well...to be honest, I’m not the best person to describe them. Unfortunately, I’ve never been in the position to study them like I really want to. From afar, I can tell you, that they look green. Not really a magnificent shade of green, actually it’s kind of dull, from afar anyway.
His lips are thin, the bottom one just a little more plump than the top. His smile though, is stunning. Not that I’ve seen it that often. He has two perfect rows of perfect white teeth, not a single one crooked or out of place.
His face is, in a word, beautiful. With a complexion paler than milk, and the angled jaw of a high class model, he never fails to take my breath away.
I suppose I should be embarrassed that a guy can affect me that much, but what the hell, it’s not like he notices.
For a whole year now we’ve been going to the same school; taking the same classes; even catching the same bus, and not once has he talked to me. It doesn’t bother me much, I’ve never made the effort to talk to him either.
That’s where I am now, on the bus, with him sitting at the front facing me, while I sat in the middle staring out of the window, sneaking subtle glances at him every now and then. He always sits in the same seat at the front of the bus, one of the seats that face the back while the majority of the others face the front. It used to make me kinda nervous because I’d always get the feeling he was watching me. I needn’t have worried though, he was always to busy drawing to notice me.
Every day he’d get on the bus, sit in the same seat, pull out his sketch book and draw for the entire thirty minute journey. God knows what he would draw; I doubt he got much inspiration from his surroundings. But sure enough, his pencil would keep on flitting across the page, only to stop when the bus was approximately one minute away from his stop. He’d pack up, get off the bus and leave me to wonder what it was that he’d drawn that day, until it was my turn to get off the bus, just one stop after him.
I wonder where he lives.
It obviously can’t be that far away from me, but then again, I never see him out and about. I never bump into him on the way to the grocery store, or see him hanging around with friends when I’m out hanging around with friends.
He has a lot of friends. Well, fans really. He’s not the most popular guy in school, but he certainly has a solid fan base. Us girls just love the quiet, mysterious type, and he’s the epitome of quiet and mysterious.
He hangs around with a couple of loud jocks, but he’s known for being the more reserved one. It’s kind of weird who he chooses to hang around with really. He’s not a jock, he’s not loud, he’s not a player. Or at least, I hope he isn’t. And if he is, I’d rather not know about it. I’m not sure I’m ready for my delusions to be shattered just yet.
I looked at him. His legs were propped up on the empty seat in front of him, his sketch pad resting on his knees as his hand, comfortably holding a pencil, moved swiftly across the page.
His eyebrows were drawn into a slight frown, and I wondered what was wrong. Maybe his picture wasn’t going right, or maybe he’d used the wrong pencil for a certain part.
I shook myself from my thoughts, looking back at his face, and—oh crap, he’s looking right at me.
I tried to act nonchalant as I turned my head to once again look out the window, but I’m pretty sure the blush quickly forming on my cheeks was giving me away. I was mortified.
He’d caught me staring at him! I’d been getting the same bus as him for over a year and not once had he noticed me! Now he’d caught me staring he probably thought I was a freak or a loser or something.
I groaned. I just wanted to get off the bus and never have to see him again, but I’d only been on for fifteen minutes, so there were another fifteen left.
Turning to look around the bus, I tried to act casual, but when my gaze landed on him for all of one second, I knew that he’d seen right through me. He was still looking at me, and he was smirking.
He’d caught me staring, and now he was smirking at me. Ass hole. He couldn’t just forget it could he? No. He has to make me even more embarrassed.
I decided to stop being such a wimp about it. He’d caught me staring, the damage was done. But he was not gonna sit there, smirking at me, making me feel like an idiot. I was not gonna let him get to me.
Making eye contact, I narrowed my eyes at him and scowled. I was sending him lots of angry vibes and mental messages, telling him to stop looking at smirking at me. It didn’t work.
In fact, my plan had the opposite affect. He broke out into a fully fledged grin. Not a smile, a grin, and an arrogant one at that.
I gave up, sinking lower into my seat, and once again turning to look out of the window.
I was mentally scolding my self for getting caught in the first place, when movement caught my attention.
He was picking up his back pack from the floor and standing up. This wasn’t his stop, was it? No. He hadn’t even pressed the bell.
Everything was suddenly made clear when he caught my gaze, smirked once more, and started moving up the aisle, towards me.
My eyes widened as I started to panic. What the hell was he doing?! This isn’t how it was supposed to be. He was just supposed to sit there drawing while I watched him from the corner of my eye. He wasn’t supposed to acknowledge me! And he certainly wasn’t supposed to plop himself down right next to me, which is what he just did.
I didn’t look at him, I just glared out of the window as my cheeks grew hotter and hotter.
He cleared his throat.
I ignored him.
He did it again, twice as loud.
Breathing deeply, trying to control my racing heartbeat, I slowly turned my head towards him.
“Can I help you?” I wanted to smack myself. It was supposed to some out strong and uninterested, not weak and quivering!
The grin was back, and I could tell that he was dying to burst out laughing.
“You were staring at me,” he said bluntly. I wanted to die. This was not happening!
“I..I—no I wasn’t!” I protested hotly, although I knew full well that I was.
“Yes, you were,” and again with the bluntness. What is up with him? He’s supposed to be all quiet and reserved, not arrogant and confrontational!
“No, I wasn’t,” I said, sounding a little more confident. “I zoned out while I casually glanced at you,” I said, giving a small nod, as if it would hinder any further argument.
“Casually glanced, huh?” He said, wearing a small smile. “If that’s the case, then why are you blushing so bad?”
I glared daggers at him. I’d forgotten about the blush, I thought I’d talked my way out of a majorly embarrassing situation, but no, he just had to bring up the blush!
“I was not blushing! I was just...um...I was just cold!” It was a good job that there was hardly anyone on the bus, because at this point I was slightly hysterical, and my volume level was perhaps a little too high.
“Yeah, I can understand that, you know since it’s the middle of summer and all,” he smirked, giving me appointed look. Ok, maybe lying isn’t the best option with this guy.
“Ok ok! I was staring at you, happy now?” The huge grin that made it’s way onto his face confirmed it. “I don’t get why you’re being such an ass about it. Just go away.”
“I’m not being an ass, I just wanted to know why you were staring at me,” he said lightly, not taking offence at all to me calling him an ass.
Ok, think! Think damn it! You can’t tell him you were staring at him because you think that he’s really really hot and that he has nice hair that you want to run your fingers through and that you want to study his eyes...
“I was just wondering what you were drawing, that’s all,” I said, as if it was obvious.
“Oh,” his smile wavered. He looked away for a moment, before turning back and giving me a small nervous smile. Why was he nervous? He wasn’t the one who’d been caught staring by a really hot guy who they’d been crushing on for a year! “You wanna see?” he asked, gesturing to his sketch book with his hands.
“Um...ok,” I said a little hesitantly. What was with the sudden change? One minute he’s teasing me and acting all arrogant, the next he’s acting all nervous and letting me look at his art. Maybe he’s bipolar.
He handed me his sketch book, and if I’d have been paying more attention, I probably would have noticed that he was being a little reluctant about it, but I didn’t.
I took the book from him, placed it on my lap, flipped the cover open and gasped. Well, I wasn’t expecting that. I studied the page, the soft, elegant pencil lines. The amazing details. The small signature in the corner of the page. It was amazing.
I flipped the page, and let out another soft gasp. He was certainly a brilliant artist. Flipping through the pages, I found that they were always of the same thing, just in different positions and poses. I came across the last page, the unfinished drawing from today.
It was almost complete, which was remarkable, since he’d only been drawing for fifteen minutes. The only part of it that wasn’t complete was the eyes. My eyes.
The sketch book was full of drawings of me, and nothing else. I couldn’t think, and so I blurted out the first thing that came into my head.
“You never even look up.”
He’d been watching intently for my reaction, and was a little taken aback, but smiled none the less.
“And how would you know, unless you’ve made a habit out of staring at me?”
My eyes widened and I shook my head a little forcefully, about to protest.
“No—“
“It’s ok,” he said, for the first time giving me a warm friendly smile. “I stare at you too. I just try and be discreet about it.”
I scowled at him, before the meaning of his words actually hit me. He stares at me. He stares at me, while I stare at him, because I like him, and he...he likes me?
I looked up at him, the question in my eyes.
Do you like me?
He was still smiling slightly, as he gave a small nod of confirmation.
I broke out into a huge smile, before telling him to finish the picture.
Today, I didn’t get off the bus at my regular stop, I got off at his stop, because he wanted to walk me home.
When I entered my house, over an hour later, it was with a huge grin on my face and slightly swollen lips.
The guy with the brown hair, the green eyes, the perfect smile, was now my boyfriend. He was finally mine.
My art boy.
