Entry by LaraCocoOceans

~Winning Entry of "Roadmap to Self - Prompt 1"~

I couldn't finish it.

The teacher had kept me (and a few others) behind due to our 'inadequate work'. The brief she had given us was simple: to present a piece of landscape art, reflective of a season and your personality.

I loved briefs like this. I had the freedom to depict nature from my own perspective and the ability to encompass a wide variety of bold colours to portray my ideas. Usually, I got the highest marks for assignments associated with landscape art, so it was a surprise to me —and my teacher— to see an unfinished painting.

I sighed and picked up my wooden paint palette again whilst staring at the canvas in front of me. On the bright side, it wasn't completely blank. The painting was reflective of a season, just not of my personality.

Ignoring the empty white patches, a range of warm autumnal hues filled the rectangular frame and streaks of darker brown represented trees, rooted in the distance. Chestnut splotches of paint symbolised the dying leaves and a mocha-coloured winding path echoed the softer tones of the painting. The concept behind my artwork was to mirror the image of a forest during autumn. It was too bad I couldn't put the blank spaces down to stylistic licence. Unfortunately, my painting was obviously incomplete.

When my teacher asked if a distraction was affecting my work or if I was bothered by something, I quickly convinced her otherwise and blamed my lack of work on my lack of sleep. I refused to accept that I could be distracted or bothered by something. I was a hard-working, focused student, who took pride in her work. Others had described me as an overachiever, so I proudly adopted that label. I had always believed in striving to do everything to the best of my ability.

Though, a part of me knew that I was lying to myself. Deep down, I knew that my teacher was right, I was distracted by something. In fact, I was distracted by someone. A true hard-working overachiever wouldn't be distracted or bothered by anything, so I was a fake, a fraud. A true hard worker wouldn't be distracted by one of their classmates. Especially not by a new girl in their art class.

I was reluctant to accept that I was distracted by a girl because I couldn't understand why I would be distracted by a girl. I had only dated and liked guys. Except for the odd female celebrity crush.

Her name was Amber, she had transferred to my class four weeks ago, which also happened to be the day when we got the new brief.

I remembered the first time I saw her. As soon as she entered the room, I felt a shift in the ambience of the class. When she introduced herself, she smiled which made her face shine like a gem in the room. My attention was drawn to her dimples and her warm, caramel eyes, which complimented her dark tanned skin; layers of voluminous corkscrew honey curls adorned her heart-shaped face and her full pink lips rested in a perfect pout. Describing her as attractive, was an understatement. Amber was beyond stunning and her presence was captivating. I remembered having to make a conscious effort to look away from her, so she didn't think I was staring at her like a creep.

At first, I thought my attraction to her was solely based on her appearance, but then I found myself getting in situations purely just to talk to her and spend time with her. It had started with asking her if she knew where her next class was and showing her how to get there and then, somehow, we ended up as sort of friends.

Over the past week, I had decided to stop talking to Amber to prevent my attraction from developing before I fully understood it, but it was making things worse.

I hadn't painted anything new during the week.

It didn't help that I had inadvertently based my painting on her and not myself. Everything about her reminded me of autumn, her name, her appearance her warm personality... She was my inspiration.

Sometime during my ruminating of the past, my eyes had flickered from my canvas to Amber's seat, a few rows in front of me.

Her jumper was snugly fitted to her small frame and she had tied her messy curls into a bun. It was cute.

After a few moments, her eyes locked with mine. I looked away hastily, like I had been caught witnessing something I wasn't supposed to. It was unnecessary and stupid, considering I had only been looking at another pupil in the class.

I hoped no one recognised my flustered state and flushed cheeks as I packed up, hoping to escape from the classroom as soon as feasibly possible.

"April, where are you going?" Miss asked as I neared the door.

"Miss, can I come back after school?" Hardly any students voluntarily offered time to complete their work, so I figured it would be acceptable to finish my work after school. I also figured that if she wasn't in the same room as me, my concentration would improve.

She nodded. "Ok."

I couldn't help but notice the dejected look on Amber's face as I left the classroom.

I told myself that if I explained how I felt about her, she wouldn't understand. Keeping my distance was for the best.

....

When I came back after school, my teacher was on her way out, but gave me permission to continue my painting for a couple more hours.

Even though Amber wasn't in the same room as me, I still couldn't concentrate. I had been sitting in the same position, staring at my canvas for hours.

It was too late to start a new painting. I'd have to think of a new concept and-

"How about we switch?" Amber. The voice startled me slightly and I brushed off my shock whilst clearing my throat.

"Ok." I had meant to say no, but I was curious to see Amber's painting and I wasn't getting any further with my own.

Amber smiled and came closer to me. She had freed her curls from the confines of the bun and had taken her jumper off, revealing a black tank top underneath.

I took a deep breath and neglected the fluttery feeling in my stomach and diverted my gaze away from her and to the canvas in front of me. As if I could actually convince her that I wasn't affected by her presence in the room.

She spoke again, "I don't mind if you add to my painting. Do you mind if I do the same to yours?"

"No." She sat down on the seat next to mine causing me to panic and stand up. I was supposed to be keeping my distance from her, so I moved over to her canvas which was thankfully a few rows in front of mine.

"Have I done something wrong, April?" she asked in a quieter tone.

I ignored the hard lump forming in my throat due to guilt and anger with myself, then replied, "No." She must've been fed up with my monosyllabic answers. I didn't realise that she thought she had done something wrong. I was in the wrong here, for not explaining how I felt about her.

I attempted to push my feelings to the back of my mind and sat on the wooden stall situated behind Amber's canvas.

Her concept was the completely opposite of the concept I had with my painting.

Judging by the lush green swells of hills, the array of pastel colours for the flowers and the meandering river that continued into the distance, her concept was spring. Maybe her concept was April. Maybe it was me.

There was nothing else to add to the painting because the painting was perfect. Just like Amber was perfect. I continued staring at the painting for a few more minutes unsure of what to say or do. Did she show me this for another reason, or was I overthinking?

After a few more minutes I spoke up, "It's good." I knew it was better than good, but that was all I could manage to say without asking questions about why she had chosen spring.

I made my way back to my seat to see what Amber had done to my artwork. If she had done anything like what she had done with her own, mine would be beautiful.

I stood behind Amber and started at my canvas. In the blank spaces, Amber had added more orange hues and more detailed leaves, however, what made the painting special were the two figures holding hands, walking down the winding path.

"It's amazing," I whispered after looking at the finished painting.

I looked at Amber and noticed she had a few flecks of paint on her cheek.

"You have some paint there," I said whilst pointing to the general area where it was.

She rubbed her other cheek. "Is it gone?"

Without properly realising what I was doing, I brought my hand up to her cheek and wiped the flecks away. Her skin was soft and smooth, making me wish I had taken much more time to appreciate the heat of her cheek radiating to my thumb as I removed the paint blemishes.

The way she stared at me so intensely made me realise that I owed her an explanation. "It's just that I'm—"

Amber interrupted me, "I like you."

Oh. Wow. I bit the inside of my cheek and tried to ignore the familiar rush of heat to my face. "I think I like you too."

Amber smiled, revealing her set of dimples again. "That's all that matters then. We can figure the rest out together. No more avoiding me?" she asked tentatively.

"Ok, no more avoiding you," I agreed whilst nodding, I did hate pretending that I didn't want to talk to her.

Amber reached for my hand and I clasped her hand tightly.

We both stared at the finished painting of two figures holding hands in the forest. The couple was going down a winding path, going on a journey full of twists and turns.

In a way, they were like Amber and me. Neither of us were certain how things would end up or where we were going, but we were in it together and it would be a journey I would enjoy going on. It was time for a new season.

A season with Amber.