An artistic playboy? Never heard that one before.
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Parker Ly was a full package-intelligent, good-looking, sporty, and a bad boy. Oh yes, he was also an artist. He also had a secret; he fell in love with a girl in ripped jeans and a blue bomber jac...
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a/n: heyyyy... So, it's the big day :) in honor of my birthday which is happening in about 40 minutes because it is currently 11:20pm, I wrote a nice, lengthy chapter for y'all! Sorry for taking so long, high school is a drag :/
E I G H T E E N : BOYS
The Due Date
MAE WASN'T NERVOUS. Nope, not at all. Because pacing, wobbly knees, and hyperventilating obviously meant that she was so very ready to present in front of the class. Truth be told, she hated presenting in front of people, but school always called for some kind of public speaking to be done per year.
“Mae, you need calm down and breathe,” Dustin mused, clearly unaffected by having to speak in front of thirty or so people. He was a speaking and writing prodigy, after all. “Just imagine everyone’s naked.”
Mae’s eyes widened in surprise. “That’s a little unnerving, don’t you think?”
He chuckled, not responding. They were up next, and both of them were prepared to lug up the collection of paintings that Mae had painted over the course of a few weeks.
“Next,” Mr Pralia called after the applause for the previous group had died down. The two of them took their cue and gathered up the paintings. After they had set them down, they began their story.
“In the midst of the 1700s,” Dustin began, his voice confident and loud, “when America had settled from the revolution, a young man walks the grimy streets of the worst part of New York. He roams with the knowledge that the people here were poor, desperate, and Irish.”
Mae said a silent prayer before picking off from where he left off, “Lurking in shadows, a young, Irish woman peers behind a crumbling alley wall at the passers-by. Suddenly, she spots the shoes and coat of a wealthy man, and Hell's Kitchen never looked better. With her family torn by the Americans and their Civil War, her little brother and sister needed food on the table. So she did the thing she knew best—steal.”
“But just as she reached for his pocket, a hand grasped hers. The young woman met the calculating eyes of an American, unforgiving and cold, but had softened nonetheless. 'And who might you be?’ he inquired to the girl with fiery, auburn hair and fierce, emerald eyes. 'Just a girl trying to get by,’ she answered honestly, 'so if you'll excuse me…’”
Mae struggled to swap her paintings, but Dustin helped her quickly and silently. They exchanged unspoken words of encouragement, and she continued. “Alexander had to know…”
The story continued as Mae had once told Parker. Fiona and Alexander would grow closer, they'd attend a ball together, they would face terrible social obstacles.
