"Alright, so here's my bedroom." I open the door and Shawn walks in behind me. He walks in about three feet before standing and looking around. "It's old, so my apologies if my room is a little cliché."
I turn the light on, allowing Shawn to see every aspect of the room better. He picks his head up and looks at the string of water color paintings hanging from crossing wires hooked on the ceiling. He walks over to the wall on the right and examines how it's all covered with oil pastel painting of friends and random things. Shawn seems captivated by all of this.
"Is this Charlie?" He asks me. I walk over to him and see him looking at my oil painted portrait of Charlie.
"Yeah. She was the first person who I asked if I could draw." I tell him. "There's also that!" I point to a picture of Diana's back painted in Vincent Van Gogh's Starry Night.
"Who's this?" Shawn asks me.
"Diana." I answer. "After a track meet, she slept over and I painted this on her back."
"How are you going to draw me?" Shawn asks, turning to face me.
"I'm thinking charcoal pencils but I'm also thinking of oil painting or water color." I think as I examine his face. "Wait, how about you choose?"
Shawn turns and looks around the room to select a painting style. "That one." He points.
"Oil painting," I smile. "Nice." I grab the supplies and brushes I need and exit the room with Shawn and lead him to another staircase.
"You're not painting me in your room?" He asks me as we make it to the top of the stairs.
"No. I don't want to get it messy." I reply. "Can you open the door, please?"
Shawn opens the door to the attic and we head inside. He gasps in shock as he sees my other paint collection. Tables and chairs full of easels, paintings, and more paint colors.
"Sit by the window." I tell him as I grab an apron and put it on over my dress. Shawn heads to the window and sits on the window seat. I grab my stool and place it in front of the easel, which is in front of Shawn.
"How long have you been painting?" Shawn asks me as I begin to sketch out his face and body features with a pencil.
"Since I can remember." I tell him, flicking my eyes back and forth from Shawn and the easel. "I think I was three."
"That young, huh?" He lightly smiles at me.
I nod. "It was in pre-k and we were finger painting. I just fell in love with the way the paint felt on my hands."
The conversation falls short and silence surrounds us.
"Hold on." I say to Shawn. I stand up from the stool and head to a corner where my old radio sat on a table. I press a button and smile to myself.
"What's this?" Shawn asks me as I sit back down on the stool.
"A playlist I made. My painting playlist. My paintlist." I laugh. Shawn laughs as well.
"That was the worst joke I've ever heard." He laughs.
"Sorry. That sounded way better off in my head." I shake my head. I focus on Shawn's eye shape as I begin to softly sketch them out. I furrow my brows and begin to work on his eyebrows. "This is gonna be difficult."
"How do?" He asks, a little smile tugging at his lips.
"Because...you have a perfect face." I grit. Shawn laughs at my frustration. "Your face is almost as if it were chiseled by the God's! Shut up, it's not funny." I say, beginning to laugh. "I'm gonna have a hard time working on your facial structure."
