SHOUTOUT TO Paper4Flowers FOR WINNING SECOND PLACE IN MY FAN ART COMPETITION! YOU DID GREAT! thank you so much!

Paintbrush | 'pant,breSH| noun; a brush for applying paint – New Oxford American Dictionary.

Chapter seven; paintbrush

The next morning I woke up feeling strangely refreshed and energized.

I guess this is why my mother had always pushed me to go to bed early. Yep, you heard me right. As soon as I made it home from Arthur's last night, which was around nine thirty, I hit the sheets and passed out.

Never will I ever again underestimate the amount of energy sitting in a room in silence for almost six hours sucks from your body. Literally, that's all that went on for almost half my day. I sat there on that chair in the corner, though it was rather comfortable, for six hours and all I had to show for it was...absolutely nothing. Arthur wouldn't even let me see the darn thing. And when I asked, he refused to show me the watercolor painting from last week also.

This is so unfair.

I sigh before shoving my blankets off my body with my feet and sitting up, looking over at my alarm clock.

8:34 AM

I could go back to sleep. I doubt Ray is awake and my mom always sleeps in on Saturdays. I would too if I had to deal with snobby rich kids who have just entered adulthood and don't have anything to do with their lives except take a summer art course and generally have no talent.

No, my mom never said that but I've gone with her to a couple classes when I was younger and everyone was super...yeah. And I know "yeah" isn't exactly an adjective but, trust me that's the only way to describe them.

I scratch my scalp, feeling my oily hair and scrunching my nose in disgust. I love summer but something about the heat makes my hair super greasy.

I immediately stand and head to my dresser, pulling out a pair of white shorts, a peach short sleeved button up shirt, and of course underwear. But no one wants to know about that.

I take my time in the shower, humming a tune I hear in my head but doesn't exist anywhere else. I feel the bathroom beginning to steam up and my mouth feels overly dry today so I turn the heat of the water down, feeling the cool water over my hair.

I sigh as I step out of the shower tilting my head slightly as I walk to be sure my hair doesn't touch my back. Something about wet hair grosses me out to no end.

I blow dry my hair, my towel tucked tightly around my body as I think about today. I could always give Lila a call and see what she's up to. Or maybe try one more time to get Ray to hang out with me. I might just gather up my things and head to the park for a few hours. Get some writing done-

Wait.

I throw my now dry hair into a messy bun and tie a peach colored bandana into a headband on my head before throwing on my clothes, possibly missing a button or two, before dashing out of the bathroom and into my room, bumping into a ticked off Ray on the way.

"Watch it." His usual disrespectful tone comes out to play but I ignore it completely, pushing past him.

As soon as I step through the door make a run for the bed, jumping onto the comforter and reaching down to unplug my phone from the wall. I type a rushed message to Arthur.

Me:

Just realized I never got my journal back

I stare at the text as I wait for a reply before a thought comes to mind. I bite my lip before tapping his contact information and pausing. I quickly type a new name in and save it just before I receive a text.

Art:

Is this just an excuse to hang out with me? ;)

Me:

I'd say quit being so egotistical but I'm afraid that task has already proven too difficult for you.

Art:

You wound me. I'll be there in twenty. Btw, I'm pinging your phone so no need to send me the address ;)

Me:

WHAT??! No you can't come here. There's no assignment.

Art:

Oh right, I forgot we need excuses to hang out...hmmm...okay then, I'm bringing your Jungle.

*journal. Ugh, I despise typos. Okay I'm on my way.

I huff, locking my phone and refusing to answer.

Of all the annoying and aggravating things to do, he just has to come to my house. My mom is here...maybe I don't want him meeting my mom. And pinging? Isn't that what police do to track someone with their phone? Unbelievable. Actually, with Arthur it is quite believable.

I shove my phone in my pocket, feeling slightly calmer but still all I can think about is punching Arthur in his smug little face.

I'm about to rush downstairs and make sure Ray isn't there because he would probably eat Arthur alive...or possibly the other way around, but before I can even take a step forward I realize something.

My glasses. I still have my glasses on.

Dang it, Lovely.

And of course the doorbell rings at this very moment.

"Stupid Arthur, he said twenty minutes. It hasn't been twenty minutes, Arthur!" I whisper/yell to myself before stomping to the bathroom and rushing to put my contacts in all while the doorbell is ringing furiously.

"Lovely! Answer the door!" My mom's angry voice calls out and I hiss under my breath.

I stomp down the stairs, rubbing my eyes as I go. I must have something in my contact...well that's just fantastic.

"Hey, Love –whoa are you okay?" Arthur rushes inside to peer down at me in, what looks like, concern.

"Um..." I trail off, finally rubbing whatever was in my eye out, and bringing my hand down to my side. "Yeah. I'm fine I just had something in my eye – so uh what are you doing here? Again?" I awkwardly jumble, mentally palming myself on the forehead.

He shrugs and pushes past me to my living room. "I like your house it's...homey. Oh, and I have your journal – here." He thrusts my leather bound beauty at me and I'm about to reach out for it and possible jump for joy but before I have the chance, the book hits me.

Right in the chest...area. "Ow! Geez." I exclaim, glaring at him.

"What did I do now?" He sighs, looking plainly at me.

"You hit me," I gesture to my chest in annoyance, "in the...boobs." I huff, half embarrassed and half angry for being embarrassed.

I almost smirk when a small blush splotches across his face and neck but I'm stopped before I can by his laugh. He smiles as he laughs, the deep sound making me even more ticked off, if that's even possible. "So sorry about that." He clears his throat, patting me on the shoulder. I swat his hand away.

"Stop that. I'm fine." I grumble.

He just nods and looks around the room, taking it all in I presume. It's no wonder he's curious about such a small space. Well, my house isn't exactly small but compared to his house...well let's just say there really is no comparison.

"So. This is where the almighty Lovely Bates lives. It's exactly how I thought it would look." He smiles.

I laugh, walking over the couch, sitting down, and placing my journal on the nearby coffee table. "You've thought about where I live?" I ask with a slight teasing laced in my voice.

He gives me a half smile from across the room, one of his dimples appearing. "Well sure. Where a person lives says a lot about that person, don't you think?"

I consider this, looking around my home. "Yes, I suppose that's true."

"Well there you go then. Now I've heard it all. Lovely Bates admitting I'm right about something."

"Don't get used to it."

"I'll try my very hardest." He winks at me before pointing at the spot next to me. "This seat taken?" He asks.

I raise my eyebrows. "You know very well that it isn't."

He sits down gracefully, throwing his arms over the back of the couch and making himself comfortable. His scent wafts gentle over to me like a hushed secret and I subtly breathe in. Cologne I can't quite place and a slight hint of peppermint. "You smell good."

At first I blush, thinking the words came from my mouth but when I remember my voice isn't quite so low, my eyes connect with Arthur's, his brown eyes sparkling with humor.

"What?" I breath, confused.

"You smell really good." He smiles a little, not for a second looking embarrassed or unsure. And I hate him for it.

"Oh um...thanks I guess? You smell pretty good too." I clear my throat and nod.

"Why thank you, Lovely." He says but I can tell he's only saying this to embarrass me further.

"You're welcome." I stand my ground this time, looking him square in the eye.

"So. What shall we do?" He asks his hands now in his lap, interlaced.

I give him a skeptical look, laughing slightly. "What, you're staying here? And hanging out? Seriously?"

He shifts in his seat, looking embarrassed or maybe even a little unsure. I smile at the proof that he can't be perfectly confident all the time. "If you want me to go I can – "

"No. It's fine...really. I was in your house; the very least I can do is return the favor." I clear my throat awkwardly before smiling a little to show I'm being genuine.

A sudden crooked grin takes over his features and my eyes are drawn to his dimples like a moth drawn to light. "Look at us, being all friendly like normal people." He teases with a wink.

I roll my eyes and turn on my heel, walking to the kitchen.

"Awe, now you've gone and ruined it. You know, a bad attitude will get you nowhere in life, Lovely." He follows closely behind me.

A witty comeback is right at the tip of my tongue but I clench my fists and internally remind myself that we're friends now and friends don't want to kill friends. So, alas, I resist and instead grab the red kettle off the stove and fill it with water.

"I'm making tea, do you want some or not?" I ask him blandly, giving him a sideways glance to see him leaning against my refrigerator, hands in his front pockets casually and looking completely at peace.

"What kind?"

"The kind I'm making. Take it or leave it."

He smiles, stepping close to prop his elbows on the countertop on front of me and placing his chin in his hands. "I'll take it."

I sit and watch the stove burner turn from red to black to super red until Arthur speaks up. "Are...you okay? You seem kind of, I don't know, out of it I guess. Is something bothering you or...?" My eyes meet his and I'm surprised by the genuine concern in them, his brow furrowed, my attention moving to the faint freckles between his eyebrows and sprinkled down his nose onto his cheekbones.

I stand up a little straighter, bringing myself out of my stupor. "Um, yeah...I guess I'm a little tired. I got up pretty early this morning."

He nods to this but the concern is still written all over his face. He leans over the counter, resting on his forearms. Peppermint greets me in a fresh scent and I swallow slowly.

"Are you sure? If you need to talk, I'm here." He informs me, his head slightly cocked.

My heart fills with warmth at this side of him. I smile a small one to let him know I'm really okay and nod once. It's a moment like this that makes me glad we're newly friends instead of enemies.

The sound of the kettle whistling rings loudly in my ears and I rush to grab the handle and set the pot on the counter. "Hey could you grab two mugs out of that cabinet right there?" I ask him, pointing to the double doored cabinet behind him to the right.

He turns sharply and points to the cabinet, looking to me in question and I nod to confirm. He turns back around with two white mugs.

We spend the next few moments arguing lightly about whether half and half or any sort of milk belongs in tea, Him claiming tea should be strong like coffee with no cream and minimal sugar and me trying to get my point across that you're not drinking tea properly if you don't have to mix a couple things in there. It adds some oomph.

We then proceed to drink our tea in the living room, each of us taking one couch, blankets spread over our legs as we decide what to watch.

"I still vote Some Assembly Required." I vouch for the Netflix original television series.

He glares at me, waving the remote around, which I have no clue how he got, considering it had been right beside me a moment ago. "That show is literally stupid. It makes no sense and not to mention, it's in the Kids section. This should tell you something, Lovely." He speaks as if I'm an insolent child and I shoot him a glare of my own.

"It's funny."

"It makes no sense."

"Your face makes no sense." I huff, crossing my arms.

He scoffs, but clicks on the episode about the Schnorfs. "Clever, how'd you manage to think that one up?" He mutters angrily under his breath but I smile, for some reason, feeling unbelievably happy that I got my way with this.

"I'm so excited, I love this one." I smile, my eyes glued to the screen.

"Whatever." He grumbles. But I catch him, every once in a while, laughing at something that occurs on the show before covering it each time with a cough.

He acts like he's in a foul mood for the next two episodes but by the third we're both looking over at each other and laughing when we both find the stupid humor of it all funny.

Maybe he's not so bad after all.