Chapter Eleven
Sophie
Art is my last class of the day. As much as I love learning, it’s great to relax in a class that doesn’t grade us based on our skills or abilities. I’m not the greatest artist out there, but I think I do okay.
The teacher, Miss Moreno, stands in the doorway, greeting the students as they enter the classroom.
After I wish her a good afternoon, I lower myself at my easel and prepare my palette to continue my painting that I started last week.
It’s a scene from one of my romantasies.
There are dragons and wizards and elves and demons and all the good stuff.
It’s kind of complicated and I’m nowhere at the level of a talented artist, but it’s the effort that counts, right?
“Very good, Damian,” Miss Moreno says a few feet away from me.
Glancing up, my eyes widen a bit as I realize Damian is in this class. I didn’t see him when I walked inside. This is his third day of school and we only have art once a week, so I didn’t know he takes this class with me.
I bend my head, trying to steal a peek at his painting, but I can’t see because he’s blocking me. I can’t help wondering if he’s good at art. Considering he had a sketchpad with him the other day, I’m assuming he is. That just makes me so curious to see his masterpiece.
My lips lift in a small smile when I remember what happened last night.
How he and I snuck into the dining hall to steal the food.
I didn’t have a chance to really think about it in detail.
But now that I’m alone with my thoughts and the dude is only a few feet away, I can’t stop my thoughts from replaying everything that took place.
The way he teased me about being a goody-goody.
How he lied about breaking into his mother’s safe and stealing all the money.
How I called him out on his lie. I could see in his eyes how surprised he was that I was able to see right through him.
Like I knew him or something. But I don’t know him.
I just know that he’s not as bad as he thinks he is. Or pretends to be.
Eating with him was nice. Like we were two friends spending time together, even though we’re not even close to being friends.
A shadow looms over me. Raising my head, my eyebrows shoot up when I find Damian standing there. He’s staring at my painting with a thoughtful expression on his face.
My cheeks feel warm because I know my paintings aren’t really great. I mean, I’m sure a five-year-old could paint a better dragon than the monstrosity I did.
His sharp eyes move to mine, but I can’t read what they’re saying. He looks back at the painting with that same expression.
I shift in my seat. “It’s a scene from one of my romantasies. See? That’s a dragon.” I point out the rest of the characters as well.
He studies them. “Nice.”
Nice? What does nice mean? And why do I care so much?
He turns to leave, then faces me. Bending close, he whispers, “Same time and place tonight?”
“Huh?”
“You think the leftovers will be as good?”
I gape at him. “You mean, you want to…?”
He shrugs. “Still got the key.”
I continue to gawk at him, my mouth opening and closing as I try to come up with some sort of response.
For the first time since he entered my life, Damian Harrington Lawrence lets out a chuckle. A real, full chuckle.
“See ya in the library after class.” He walks back to his easel and sits down in front of it. He continues painting like nothing happened. Like he didn’t just make a girl so confused she doesn’t know what to think.
Was he serious? Does he really expect us to break into the dining hall tonight?
Before I can stop myself, I get to my feet and make my way to him. I freeze in place when I take in his painting. It’s a waterfall, and it’s probably the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
“Wow,” I gasp.
He whirls around in his chair. The look he shoots me is one that tells me he doesn’t want anyone looking at his stuff.
I back away, holding up my hands. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to bother you.”
He shakes his head. “No, I didn’t know it was you.”
He looks at me and I look at him.
I move from one foot to the other. “I just wanted to make it clear that I’m not doing that again. It was just a one-time thing. I was desperate.” I’m not going to make the mistake of missing dinner again. “I don’t want you to think I’m…”
He lifts a brow. “Bad? Don’t worry, I was just messing with you.”
“Oh. Right. Just making sure.”
He doesn’t say anything as he continues to paint. I watch how his hand expertly dances across the canvas. “It’s very pretty,” I tell him. “You’re so talented.”
He looks up at me, and for a second I wonder if I’m making him uncomfortable. But his eyes soften. No smile, though.
“Thanks.”
“Is it based on somewhere?”
He nods. “My dad and I used to go here when I was a kid.”
“That’s sweet.” I’m tempted to ask him what happened to his dad and why he doesn’t live with him, but it’s none of my business.
He doesn’t say anything, just focuses back on his painting. I wait a second or two, then return to my station and resume mine. It’s nearly done, I just need to add some more color to a few characters.
When there are a few minutes left to class, Miss Moreno calls for attention. We all drop our paintbrushes and palettes and focus on her.
“As some of you know, there’s an art contest for high school students. Whoever wants to submit a piece to the judges, please come to my desk and let me know. The rest of you are dismissed.”
I wish I were good enough to submit a piece. I can imagine the judges laughing when they see my pathetic painting.
Damian gathers his things and makes his way to the door.
“Damian, a minute, please,” Miss Moreno calls. He turns around and heads to her, his backpack slung over his shoulder.
“Are you sure you don’t want to submit a piece?” Miss Moreno asks him as they step away from the other students crowding around her desk. I’m finishing up my painting and can hear nearly every word they’re saying.
“You’re very talented. I have confidence you’ll make it far in the contest.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t want to.”
She nods slowly. “It’s your decision, but are you sure you don’t want to take a few days to think it over? You have until the end of the month.”
“No, thanks.”
She frowns, but nods again. “All right. You’re dismissed.”
He turns around at the same time I walk to the door and he slams into me. It’s such a hard bang that it knocks the wind out of me.
“Sorry. You okay?” he asks as he looks into my eyes.
“Yeah, sorry. I should watch where I’m going. Do you want to head to the library together? We’re both going there anyway.”
He shakes his head. “I need to go home first. Got to take this thing off.” He loosens his tie. “And this lame blazer.”
“Right. And you need to change into your leather jacket.”
“Yep.”
“Okay, so I’ll see you soon. Try not to be late.”
He bends close. “Why? Don’t you want some time to read?” He winks before walking around me to exit through the door.
I stand there for a bit, trying to figure out if he’s making fun of me or just teasing. His tone was light, so I’m leaning toward teasing.
But why would he tease me?
“Sophie? Did you want to ask me something?” Miss Moreno interrupts my thoughts.
“Oh, um. No, thanks. I’ll see you at the dance competition on Saturday.” Miss Moreno is also the dance coach. Carly put it together a few months ago and Ryder and Addie are part of the team, too.
She smiles. “See you.”
When I reach the library, I settle down at our usual table and take out my book. This time when Damian arrives—in his leather jacket, no tie, and the top two buttons of his shirt undone—I put my book away and don’t get so caught up in it like yesterday.
I want to ask him why he refuses to submit an art piece to the contest. I think he could win. But it’s really none of my business. Instead, I start reviewing what we learned today.