The Art Project (BxB)

Chapter 4

Luke's POV
Today seemed to drag on forever. Like for-freaking-ever. All of my morning hours were long and boring, and I couldn't wait to go home. I couldn't wait for Greyson to come over. Yes you can! Or you at least, AT LEAST, should be able to! I mentally roll my eyes. My emotions have been like a natural disaster lately. Well, more since this morning, but let's just say it's been a long, long day.

At lunch I left to go home and make sure everything was clean and nice for when Greyson got there. You just wanted to impress him, you moron. After I came back I got like ten minutes of lunch left but it was worth it. When I sat down with some of my real friends, I say real because with me being me, people only want to hang out with me because of my popularity and naturally it adds on being the schools quarterback. Anyways our group consists of Zoey (extroverted and loud), Trent (horny, hilarious, and a womanizer), Natasha (shy but knows how to stick up for herself), George (annoying in a good way, can seem quiet at first, foodie, however hilarious as well as Trent), and me, whatever I am. Reese too, but he left earlier today.

George and I have been best friends since we were little, so typically, we're closer. Like, I love him and all, but man does he love his food! He's crazy for it and he's a child at heart. His brother died when they were little, but he doesn't talk about it at all. It changed his life and I'll never understand that. I've never lost someone like that, it's like that with Reese too. We've all been super close; I don't know what I would do without them.

I sit down and space out because I can't help it. I look over at Greyson and that black haired chick with purple bangs. I really need to figure out her name.... Tessa? She looks like a Tessa so we'll go with that. I stare at Greyson and Tessa for a while. Watching them laugh, watching him blush, watching her smile at him or maybe smirk. His gorgeous blue eyes meet my weird hazel ones and he blushes and looks down. I almost squeal, he looks so kis-ADORable. Adorable. Yeah, that's right, right? I'm now completely tuned out of the conversation that everyone was having around me. Every thought in my mind consisted of one person: Greyson.

—

I ran to my locker, quickly got all of the junk out of it and jogged or probably sprinted to my car, hoping to see Greyson there, however I was met with Brittany. I sighed and rolled my eyes. She grabs my arm and pushes her boobs up, which are already popping out anyways. Is this supposed to turn me on? Am I supposed to stare and drool like a mindless and zombified teenage boy? I huff and yank my arm back, "Please just stop. You've most likely slept with more than half of the schools male population and you're not about to get one more. Now if you don't mind, I have someone far better to be around than you." I turn to go the other way when I bump into a small figure.

"O-oh, I'm-m sorry." I know that voice but I have to look just in case. Blue. Icy blue eyes bore into mine, "Oh hey Luke! I was just going to look for you..." his face lit up and he smiled big but when he realized how he reacted he blushed and looked down. Aww. So cute!

"Really? Well, let's go, my mom should be home so don't flip out." We climbed into the car and I risked a glance at him before pulling out of the school parking lot. His face flashed with thousands of different emotions. Sadness, despair, depression, relief, happiness, worry, discomfort, and  embarrassment. The last one showed when he looked at me and caught my gaze. I felt so horrible and curious at the same time. He seemed so innocent and pure but there is something I'm missing, I know there is.

—
Greyson's POV
We pull up into the Andrews' driveway and my hands go numb. I'm scared what Amy will say when she sees me again. Will she be happy? Will she show pity? She was best friends with my mom before she died. They had seen each other in private because my father didn't like having Amy around. He thought she was taking mom from him. Amy has supposedly never liked my father, ever since high school. She didn't think he was good for mom but she saw that he changed when mom was with him. He wasn't as bad anymore. Well except to Amy, he was always horrid to her. Then when mom died, he broke again but this time it was worse and he takes everything out on me. I know that I'm going to get it when I get home though; that's how it goes. Especially when I tell him where I've been. My mom told me never to lie (unless absolutely necessary), so when he asks me where I've been I always state the truth. So tonight, when he asks me where I've been, I can't lie and say Lucy's place. I can't tell anyone about what he does to me because then they'll take me away from him and I'll be all alone. No siblings, no parents. Only Lucy and maybe the Andrew's, but I don't know if I'll fit in with them.

We're in the house now and I follow Luke to the kitchen where Amy is sipping a mug of coffee, even though it's like 12:30 in the afternoon. Mom always said that she was addicted to coffee. I smiled when she saw me. Her eyes got huge and teary, she almost dropped her cup, and her jaw slacked. She ran up to me and crashed me into a hug. I could feel my eyes sting as I hugged her back and inhaled her vanilla scent. Just like mom's. I almost let a sob escape when she backed away and looked at me with so much passion and love. She's told me that she's always loved me as her own son and that she always will. She was there for me in the hospital and at the funeral. But lately she's just been busy, I feel terrible for depending on her like that. I'm seventeen, I should be able to suck it up and deal with it by myself. That's how it'll always be: suck it up and deal.

Luke cleared his throat and said, "Well, I guess you guys already know each other so I'll just grab some water and we can head upstairs...." he trailed off and walked to the kitchen where he grabbed two water bottles. I pulled away from Amy and followed him upstairs.

He opened the door and my jaw dropped. He has posters decorating the walls, he has a huge walk-in closet, and the biggest bed ever. He had light blue—but not baby blue—walls with a flatscreen mounted in front of a black leather couch. He set his bag down and sat on the bed. I followed suit and cracked open my water bottle.

Taking a super small sip, I avoided his curious gaze. I could feel his eyes roaming my face and my humiliatingly rosy cheeks. I cleared my throat, capped the bottle, and grabbed my binder out of my bag. I wouldn't call it my portfolio per se but it's full of my artwork. I subconsciously sat crisscrossed and set the binder gently on my sock-clad feet. His stare burned into my soul.

"May I help you?" I said trying to be as polite as possible, however some of my overflowing sarcasm spilled into the simple question.

I could've sworn I saw the slightest shade of pink in his cheeks before he adjusted his position, "You fascinate me and I don't know why but I would love to find out more about you. I've already observed that you are really shy, and that you have a quiet, mousy personality but I want-no I need to know more. What's your favorite color?"

Surprise flooded my face and unfortunately blood in my cheeks, "I don't know. I guess it's like a mixture of blue and green, like a....teal but it's incredibly lighter. It's a tame shade of teal but it has slightly more green than blue. What's yours?"

"Huh. Um mine is emerald green. Specifically emerald green because 'lime'," he cringed slightly, "is a weird word. It's like my 'moist' or 'squishy'. It can't be a darker green either because that's just less pretty than emerald green."

As the hours wore on, we talked and laughed until it hurt, long forgetting the binder now sitting on the nightstand and why we were even there in the first place.