Crashing into Dane.

4

Sundays have to be the slowest days possible. I swear, I can feel every tick the clock is making as I lay on my bed.

Dad is napping, very rare of him, but I guess it's to be expected. Its a hot afternoon and time seems frozen somewhere.

I've listened to music. I've cleared the backyard. I've thought about telling Tipey about Dane.

What about him?

I've taken a long enough shower. I have done everything humanly possible to pass the time and it's still before two. I need to find better things to do with my life.

I grab my keys and head to Dad's room. I knock lightly on the door and see he's still asleep. I walk over to his bedside and leave him a little note.

I grab my canvas and paints and head for the truck. Before I turn the key, I remember I haven't taken any water today, so I run to the kitchen and grab a couple of bottled waters.

The truck has a powerful engine, I feel it's roar beneath the hood. I manoeuvre my way out the driveway and scramble for the remote control to close the gate.

The wind feels heavenly on my cheeks as I drive through the chalky streets, people here and there and everywhere.

The road to the stadium isn't as busy though, a few cars pass me by and a few people striding along. Its not such a terrible day, the sky is clear and the few patches of cloud make the whole scene breathtaking in its own discreet way. I can't wait to paint all of this.

The stairs still make me gasp for air, the grandstands seeming like mount Everest with every climb. When I finally get to the top, I take in the sights and catch my breath. It's a beautiful day, no doubt. I search for a place with less direct heat and set up.

Headphones on. Let the bliss begin.

***

The blending of the colours on canvas and watching the image unfold never get old. It's still pretty awesome to me. I'm working on the children from the market when I spot a little activity in the corner of my eye. I glance at the field and find a group of athletes or something, warming up.

Shoot.

I should have know the place would be occupied today. I spotted a couple of flyers all over the streets during the week, there's a game here next week. Of course the team would be training.

Jocks all over the field, flexing and sweating. Great.

I take my attention back to the droplets of water I'm trying to form with the brush on the canvas. Up the volume by a few.

I get so lost in the music, Tina Turner on replay, I don't notice the person before me, a few stairs below, waving.
He climbs up to me and stands behind the canvas, I get startled a little and move my headphones from my ears.

You'll never guess who it is.

It's Dane, of all the people I could know in this town, it's him. Well I don't really know him.

Sweaty arms and chest beneath a dark blue sweatshirt. Better. I don't fancy boys in vests anyway. I don't fancy boys at all.

He seems a bit out of breath, looking right at me. Great! Again.

"Did you say something?" I say as I remove my headphones completely. Looking at his face, but not the eyes, not the eyes.