Her Splash of Color | ✓

✤ 1.30 piano over guitar ✤

Posted November 21st, 2018

✤ Sayna: 1.30 piano over guitar ✤

**pre-warning: unedited. please excuse any typos.**

Rock.

Small, but a rock none the less.

I did not see a rock ahead, too caught with looking at Rihaan leaning against the car with his head lowered to his phone in his hand. His tie was loose and first button undone. He had taken off his school coat. The mid-afternoon sun simmered over his hair, making his normally black hair seem brown, almost a shade of hazel.

And that wretched rock. It pulled me back to reality as I tripped over it. The wet painting in my hand that I was taking home after having completed it in the last block smearing over my clothes, arm, and one side of my face when I stumbled forward and regained my balance.

"Ugh. Damn it!" I exclaim louder than intended. Some students around me snickered. Yes, probably wondering how I could be so clumsy or blind as to fumble over the tiniest of rock instead of stepping over it.

Hearing my voice, Rihaan looks up. His eyes widen at first before he starts trying to hide a laugh. "What did you get yourself into this time?"

Groaning, I hand him the canvas. "Hold this."

He puts his phone away and takes it from me while I check my reflection in the car window. My white school shirt is ruined. Maybe dry cleaning will save it but the dark colors may still remain in a faded manner. I pull my water bottle from my bag and a handkerchief from pocket. Damping it, I try to wipe off atleast some of the paint on my arms.

Rihaan tucks back a strand of my hair and I glance up at him. "You are a colorful mess, you know that?"

I let out a defeated sigh. "Guess I should have known better than to carry around a large piece of wet canvas. How ruined is it?"

He turns it around for me to see, marking an observation of his own. "Not something you can't fix."

Making my own judgement after a look over, I smack my lips. "Not totally ruined, thank God. I am supposed to present this for my final grade in the class." He puts the piece inside the car on the back seat. "That will ruin the seat."

He ignores my concern and takes the dirty handkerchief from my hand, pouring some water over it again. Taking my hand, he leans back on the car door and makes me walk a step closer to stand in between his legs. "Why were you bringing it home then?" He asks just as he brings the handkerchief to my cheek.

"Hmm?" I question having no idea what he just asked, too lost in the feel of his hand circling my wrist, his thumb rubbing unconscious circles on the inside, sensitive skin.

He restates, "When this is for final grade, why were you taking it home?"

"Oh." I simply say as his hand moves down to my jaw. When his eyes find me in confusion, I realize I did not answer the question. "Um, I wanted to finish it with this particular type of paint they don't have at the school."

He chuckles, his hand leaving my wrist and moving to my chin, tilting my head up. "Isn't it cheating to use your personal collection to complete the project?"

Maybe. I had convinced myself using the same counter I give him, "She'll never know."

He teases, folding the handkerchief to use the cleaner side. "And here I thought you had a thing against cheating."

"Hey, if being a painter I can't score perfectly on the final, that's shame on me. So, sacrificing a few rigid opinions to save my pride."

His fingers leave my chin and I swallow just as his hand rests on my other nape. "Practicing the 'no harm, no foul' thing?"