Faith • hs •

24 | Stains

Faith's POV:

"God, that looked awful on her! Didn't you see how it fell around her bust?" Zayn gossips just when the customer he's talking about walks out with two bags full of new clothes.

I laugh softly, settling the money in the cash register in front of me. "That's so mean, though. I think she looked quite decent."

"As if!" He rolls his eyes.

Zayn's about to say something else but halts when the boutique's door opens. A lady with a child on her arm treads through the store, sending me a genuine smile on her way in as a greeting.

"Let's see this one." He whispers then rushes to accompany her and see if she needs help with something.

I shake my head in amusement and lose myself in thought as I examine the little child in his mother's arms. It has been one month and ten days since the last rendezvous Harry and I did for my mom. Ever since that bloody, scary trip, I have been avoiding the sight of blood. And Harry. And talking to Harry. Speaking of Harry, yesterday in Art class, we were assigned to work on a project together for tomorrow. So, we're meeting at my house this afternoon. I wasn't that delighted about it, but Mrs. Marshall insisted on me helping him because apparently no one's willing to do so since he sucks so bad. I then agreed, knowing that I don't have any other choice. In all honestly, I couldn't find a reason to hang out with him other than what my mom wanted us to do. Other than that, I've been spending most of my time with William, Zayn and Grandma.

The buzzing of my phone pulls me out of my thoughts. A new text from Will forms a smile on my face.

Will: We still on for tonight? x

Me: See you at 7 :)

I lock my phone then continue with my day, anticipating the date with William.

{...}

I grow impatient, huffing every now and then as the burning sun hits me right in my eyes. I have been waiting for Harry for 30 minutes and he's still not here. I hate being late to anything, maybe that's why I'm overreacting. Just when I bend down to retrieve all the brushes and oil paint, I hear the sound of my backyard's door opening.

An inhale of air is taken then I hear, "I'm late, I know. I'm sorry."

I roll my eyes before turning around to face him, arms crossed across my chest.

Harry raises his hands defensively. "My phone fell and broke on my way here, so I stopped to get a new one."

I roll my eyes, again. Ugh, rich people problem.

"Whatever." I sigh. "Let's get this over with."

While Harry throws his bag somewhere on the grass, I face the canvas I set up and go over the rules with him.

"I really have no idea what you just said." He says after I just wasted two minutes of my life telling him about what we're going to do for the next hour or so. He says it with such a straight face that I can't help but let out a heartfelt laugh. I catch a glimpse of him smiling softly and I hope it's not because he made me laugh.

I shake my head amusingly then repeat in a much shorter explanation. "Christmas is near, so we have to paint something for the occasion."

"Right. Got it." He nods, assuring me that he understood.

I grab the white aprons I use when I paint and toss one to Harry. I then laugh at the way he looks with that apron on. Then I realize that's the second time he made me laugh in three minutes and I don't think I have a problem with that. So, we begin painting.