The Art of Knowing [Completed]

16. • smiles •

[to all who have found the one person that makes them smile effortlessly, and to all who continue to wait to that person. don't force it, just wait.]

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"This isn't where I agreed to go," Cassandra muttered with subtle devastation. She crossed her arms with a pout.

"I wasn't taking you to McDonalds," Ryan countered, although he couldn't suppress the victorious grin on his face.

"McDonalds was fine," she argued again. He scoffed at that as her modesty seemed to be far more prominent than before. It wasn't long before he allowed a puff of air to escape his lips as he laughed. The straight daggers she'd been reciprocating were merely amusing. Her emerald eyes shifted away from him before she shook her head dismissively.

"I told you to pick something else, you could've done better than that," Ryan countered. He waltzed over to the table of his choice and took off his coat as Cassandra sulked behind. Despite her actions, he could see a small glint in her eyes at their surroundings- not as fancy as he would've done, but decent enough to make her feel out of place. She'd taken notice of their casual attire- fairly casual in her sense- as she sat down across from him, finally giving into her restricted smile towards Ryan's inability to suppress his own.

"Next time it's where I want to go or else I'm not going," she countered. Her eyes lit up at his response, his hands lifting in surrender before shrugging in agreement. It was no secret he was enjoy every second of his victory.

"It's not like we're the only ones with jeans in here," Ryan muttered, "it's not that fancy." His head turned as he took care of inspecting his surroundings. Sure, there were some people in more elegant attire, but nothing simple jeans would overthrow. His elbows rested on the table as he did so- something his mother would vehemently scold him for- all while ultimately returning his gaze back to Cassandra. Her lips tightened in a rigid smile- almost as if she had been caught. It wasn't long before she averted her eyes down the freshly baked bread the waiter had already placed on the table before Ryan realized she'd already devoured a slice.

"Does McDonalds have bread like that?" he teased with squinting eyes before smiling once more.

"Fine. So the bread is great," she admitted halfheartedly, "but it doesn't compare to cheaper medium fries." She was relentless, he noted, and that was yet another catalyst for the upturn of his lips. His brows lifted as he closed his eyes amusingly and breathed in deeply at her denial to admit the ultimate truth, which was merely entertaining at this point.

"Anyways," he said, "tell me."

"Tell you what?"

He lifted his brows once more suggestively before elaborating. "Your success," he probed. "I mean it's impossible to think you haven't been recognized at least once by now."

"Oh, sure. I mean it's not like more people haven't contacted me for commissions after that gallery showing," her words seemed to pour out effortlessly now, secretly fascinated by his desire to know more about the career that barely existed. "But there's always the critics." The soft pink lemonade coursed through her straw after speaking, watching as Ryan reacted to her words.

"What would they say?" he asked, genuinely conflicted in understanding what someone would find wrong about her art.

"'Not enough emotion, bland, doesn't affect the viewer in any way,'" she echoed. Truth be told, she'd always worked on building a thick skin when it came to the critiques since after all, many could help her improve. Nevertheless, her attempts in justifying them didn't recede the subtle sting they all held. Cassandra straightened her posture as her lips left the straw, self consciously tugging her hair behind her ear once seeing the subtle change in Ryan's eyes- they were a bit undecipherable but she could only muster the possibility of some pity, maybe even sadness in them.