Draw Me

30| Coach Dillweed

Chapter 30: Coach Dillweed

"Christopher, I swear." I breathed out agitated. "Dare draw out of the lines again and I'll shove the paint brush up your a-"

"I KNOW, I'M SORRY." he groaned, frustrated with himself. "I don't know why I'm this nervous. My hand keeps trembling."

For the last hour, I have been trying to teach this amateur dillweed how to, literally, hold a brush properly.

His hand kept trembling and got out of line every single time. The figure looked as wobbly as a jiggling jelly.

I was in such a cliché-type of situation, where I had to hold his hand and guide it myself to show him how it's done. Normally, the man is the one to guide a woman's hand, to lean his head closer to her face and feel her back touching his chest. But my life was the opposite of normal. I was being the man and Christopher the woman. He could probably smell the strawberry-filled truffles he had brought me earlier in my breath. We were that close.

Of course, Christopher being Christopher, he didn't miss the chance to comment on our proximity. He was smug about it and instead of focusing his eyes on the canvas as I shown him the movements, he was gazing at me.

"In movies, that's when the actors kiss." he said before I shoved his face away and made him do it alone.

He was a lost cause, really. He was a terrible student and I was not meant to be a teacher for him.

"You, nervous?" I laughed in disbelief. "Have you any idea how many soccer matches you've played, where hundreds of people have their eyes on you? And now what, you get nervous over a mere painting?"

Christopher dunk the paint brush in the cup of water. "There's a big difference there." he turned to look at me. He was sitting down on a stool with an easel at his front, whilst I was standing on my feet. "I've been playing soccer my whole life. I'm experienced in this. I'm used to people staring at me during my matches, so no, I don't get nervous because I know I'm good at it. But this," he pointed at the painted canvas, "It's completely new to me. I've never held a brush, I'm an amateur! And you staring at me the whole time, when I know how beautifully you draw, makes me nervous, okay?"

The way he stared at me could almost make me feel bad for him. He just confessed he was nervous due to his inferiority complex, because I could draw and he couldn't. How adorable...

Ignore I said that.

I coughed, trying to hide my smile. It was amusing to me seeing the most confident person I've ever met act this vulnerable.

"Yeah, I get you."

"You...do?"

"Yeah..." I shrugged. "I mean, drawing is not as easy as playing soccer. I get why you feel like this."

I heard him scoff. "That's not what I said." he waved his hand dismissively. "I said that I'm experienced in soccer not that soccer is easier than drawing."

"Doubtful." I chuckled and folded my arms.

I watched as his eyebrows raised, intrigued. He stood up and mimicked my stance, folding his arms as well. "Oh, you wanna bet?" he leaned closer to my face.

Under other circumstances, I would have stepped away from him. He was way too close, but I already knew he had no sense of personal space whatsoever. Hence, I didn't move an inch.

"I don't need to bet on it. I'm sure of it."

"Get dressed."

"Excuse you, what?" I frowned, looking down at my already fully-clothed body. I was wearing jeans and a cardigan over my t-shirt. "I'm already dressed."