A Drunken Mistake

A Drunken Mistake - 'a feeling in my gut that something amazing just started.'

Here's the next one!

Hope you'll all liking it so far!

Enjoy <3

'It's liking catching lightning, the chances of finding someone like you.'

Dylan's POV

I need to find them; it's all I can think about. No one can draw a picture with that much emotion and depth in it, without feeling it themselves. I should know, I always paint my best pictures on my worst days.

The only thing I have to help me is the grey hoody, but I might have underestimated how many people at this school like and wear grey hoodies.

But I won't stop looking, because in my gut, I have this weird feeling that they're gonna to be someone special.

I walk into Art class that day with a new sense of hope. This is it, the lesson I'm going to find out who's drawing it is. I'm practically bouncing in my seat while... ergh I really need to learn her name, just gives me a weird look.

What I didn't expect, was about five people to walk in wearing grey hoodies. What's this school obsession with grey hoodies, jeez buy another colour.

So I have to extend my search, look for the artist not the person.

Simple, I just have to go round and look at what the grey hoodie people are drawing.

Ok, here goes nothing.

Katy's POV

I'm day dreaming while I draw again. I can't help it, when I draw my thoughts, fears and desires all brims to the surface and I can't push them back down again.

Today my day dream is a little more graphic, more of a flashback really...

7 years ago, Christmas Day. (Katy's 9)

"You ungrateful little brat.  I bust my ass off to keep this roof over our heads; we were decent enough people to rescue you after your idiot parents ran themselves into another car and we give you food and water and a bed. What more could you ask for you selfish bitch," Michael rants and raves, slowly turning red in the face and advancing on me until my backs against the wall.

Today's argument is because today is Christmas Day, a holiday I used to celebrate with my parents. Now with the Marks we have a Christmas tree, but there's never any presents under it for me, so the only reason I can think of for that is that I've been a bad girl these last two years. That's the only thing that makes sense.

So I've been extra good these past few weeks, trying to make up for the past but it clearly didn't work.

I ran down the stairs this morning, bright and early, hoping to find a few presents under the tree for me, but Sarah and Michael were already up, swapping presents of their own.

So I was an idiot and I spoke, something I should've learnt is never a good idea in this house.

"Why didn't Santa visit me," I asked my voice rough and sad.

That's when Michael started his rant on me where I got a few choruses of, 'Santa doesn't visit ugly/ unwanted/ unloved children' and a few hits to my face and stomach.

That's the day I learnt that Santa's a lie, something made up to make other children happy, but not me. I wasn't wanted.

I was woken from my daydream by a cough beside me. I look over to see Dylan Thompson; model, actor and one of 'OK Magazines top 100 Hottest Men', staring back at me with something unreadable radiating from his eyes.

"I found you."

Dylan's POV

I've found her, no doubt about it from the picture of a drunken Christmas scene she's been sketching in her pad, to her bluey grey eyes that match the picture in every way from the colour and the shape, to the sadness and the emotion behind them.

This is the girl I've been looking for, the one that feels the same way as me.

"Umm hi," she says caustically with a sadness behind it that she coughs to get rid of "what do you mean you've found me?"

I keep getting lost in her eyes, their too captivating. I tear my gaze away from hers, reach into my bag and pull out her picture.

"I think this belongs to you," I say staring at her reaction as she takes the picture.

Her eyes nearly pop out of her head as she realises what it is and snatches it out of my hand.

"Oh thanks, yeah I was looking for it," she says not making eye contact anymore.

"It's really amazing you know."

"You looked at it," she says, her eyes going wide again.

"Um yeah, sorry if you didn't want me to, I just couldn't help myself you know," I try to explain.

There's something just not right with this girl. She was jumpy and awkward, like she was trying to shrink back and disappear, and the way she talks suggest she doesn't do it a lot. It took a few coughs for her to make her voice not sound sleep ridden, but she intrigues me, I want to find out more about her. I wanna help get the sadness out of her beautiful eyes.

"Hey, do you want to have lunch with me today, talk about your painting. I might even show you mine," I suggest hoping to god she says yes.

Her face looks like she's having a little debate in her head and the look in her eyes suggest she's scared, I'm guessing no one's ever asked her to lunch before.

She tares her gaze away once again and looks down at her drawing. I hear her mutter something under her breathe as she looks at it, something that sounds a lot like 's**t'.

She doesn't want people seeing this drawing either, I can tell. They're personal.

"Err OK?" she says as if she's asking a question.

My face is cool and collected but on the inside I'm doing a little happy dance at her answer.

"Great," I smile "meet you in the lunch room," I say as I get up and walk back to my seat with a feeling in my gut that something amazing just started.