Our Colors (BoyxBoy)

Chapter Two

"Hottest mom?"

"Easy. Jackson's mom." Tyson said whipping his thumb in my direction. I lifted my free hand smacking him upside the head. He winced as he pouted at me, rubbing the side I hit him on.

Summer was sitting on my lap as we sat at our lunch table surrounded by our friends. My arm wrapped securely around her waist as she spoke to her friend Rebecca that sat next to us.

"Don't talk about my mom like that." I whined.

"He's got a point your moms smokin." Scott agreed. I shot him a glare as he smirked.

"I hate the both of you creeps."

The bell rang signaling the end of lunch. We all stood up reluctantly. I swung my bag over my shoulder as we made our way out of the cafeteria to our last class of the day. My last class was history and it was so painfully long. I use to love history as a kid but after Tyson taunted me that one day the historic figures would come back to haunt all of us the more we learned about them I now can't stand it. Call me a wuss but ghosts and I don't mix well and I will not be involved.

I knew I had detention after this class which made it all worse. The money was worth it but I'd rather take a nap at home before practice. Our practices started at 6PM till 9 every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Early morning practices on Tuesday and Thursdays.

"You excited to see Mrs.Lawson after this?" I could see Scott trying to hide his amusement.

"Suck a dick Scotty."

"Easy seeing as yours in almost non existent, whip it out for me jackass." I shoved him to the side playfully as he laughed.

"I knew you wanted me." I fake brushed my non existent long hair to the side with a flirtatious wink.

He mocked surprise as he put a hand to his chest with a gasp. "You figured me out princess, what ever will I do?"

We kept our bickering up as we entered the classroom taking our seats. I leaned my chin on my palm looking out the window as the teacher walked in. A sigh escaped my lips as the lesson began. Couldn't wait for this day to be over already.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The hallways were crowded with people pushing their way out of the school. I shut my locker, my bag hanging off one shoulder as I turned to look at the two morons that were fighting over something stupid again.

"I'm telling you, Elvis Presley had a tight ass for a dude, no homo."

"Elvis would be turning in his grave hearing you hit on him."

"Maybe I'm into necrophilia." Tyson wiggled his eyebrows as Scott fake gagged.

"Why are we talking about Elvis Presleys ass?" I raised an eyebrow as my eyes darted between the two in confusion.

"Elvis Presleys TIGHT ass Jackson keep up man." Tyson drawled out in disbelief. "It's disrespectful to the dead."

I laughed shaking my head as I walked down the hall with the two. We said our quick goodbyes as I walked down to the art wing. The halls were mostly clear now as I pushed open the door with my shoulder.

I was greeted with a scowl on Mrs.Lawsons face as she leaned on one leg with her arms crossed over her chest.

"I will leave you too it. There is a few rags and a pale of water by the mural, I want that entire wall free of any paint by the end of your two weeks or I'll tack on more detention for you young man." Her glare was fierce as she stood up tall, grabbing a few art books in her hand as she walked around me and out the door.

I gently dropped my bag by the floor, sighing as I did so. I lifted my head slightly and almost widened my eyes in surprise but caught myself before I had.

He was here. This time he was on the floor, a large canvas sprawled out before him. Fresh paint in all different colors were surrounding the canvas ready to be used as he focused on the strokes he was currently putting on the blank spaces. His glasses were slightly crooked, her hair coated in a light purple and green chalk mixing in with his blonde highlights. Ever few seconds he would nudge his sleeve up his arm to keep it from swallowing his hand and brush. I tore my gaze away from him before he noticed, my feet making my way over to the wall.

I bent down grabbing a rag as I gently dipped it into the warm water. I tried to block out my thoughts even as I brought my hand up beginning to try and scrub away. Why was he still here? Shouldn't he have went home with everyone else? What was he painting so intensely? I turned my head slightly to the left to sneak a peak at him. He was still the same, his features soft as he painted almost unmoving.

The door opened slightly, turning to see the devil once again as she poked her head back inside. "Oli, remember to lock up before you go. I'll see you tomorrow." She turned to glare at me shortly before closing the door once again.

So that was his name. What kind of name was Oli?

"It's short for Oliver." I snapped my head to look over at him. His voice was quiet, I would have missed it if it wasn't for the silence in the room before hand. He still didn't look at me but he seized painting, nervously tugging his sleeve.

"You're not in our class." I mentally scolded myself as the words slipped out. Why did I even say that? Out of everything I could have said or asked.

"It's my seminar class period and Mrs.Lawson let's me come here if I want too." He lifted his eyes for a moment, briefly making eye contact with me before he realized I was looking at him and quickly looked back down away from me.

"I would have almost said she's nice but she's a real bitch." I grumbled out.

His eyes went wide with my words as he looked around for a moment. Confusion was rising in me watching him look over our surroundings like someone else was here. Weird.

"You shouldn't swear Jackson." He said finally and I couldn't help the laugh that escaped me. He looked at me as I laughed, his face turning a bright shade of red.

"And why is that Oli?" I smirked as the laughter died down, tilting my head slightly. He looked away once again, picking up his paint brush as he fumbled with it between his fingers.

"Swear words are just bad." He stated simply with a shrug.

The amusement welded inside me as I watched the painter from where I stood. His reactions were genuine and he was awfully weird I'd have to admit, different than your average high school kid that I've ever met.

"Okay Picasso, I won't swear if you tell me why you're still here." I was being noisy I knew that but I was definitely interested at this point.

"I like being here." The tone in his voice was sad and I suddenly felt bad for asking. He dipped his brush in a shade of crimson red, bringing it down the canvas.

I turned my attention away from him, resuming my scrubbing as the tension filled the air. "I'm sorry for asking." I said finally, my tone soft.

It was silent for the next few minutes. The sound of a light stroke against fabric, the wet rag scraping against the wall being mixed together.

"Jackson?" I turned my head to the side once more as I watched him struggle with his words, a light blush forming as he composed himself. "D-Did... did you really paint..... that of yourself?"

It took me a few seconds to understand what he was asking of me. When two and two clicked together I let out a loud hearty laugh. My shoulders shook from the force, the innocent tone of his voice asking me the question in complete awkwardness added to how amused it made me.

Red creeped from his neck to the tip of his ears as I watched him trying to keep himself from laughing along with me.

"Yes, yes I did." And that was the last thing said between us as we smiled.