"Stop panicking. You'll be fine," Blue said, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

I looked at her and gave her an apologetic look.

"Sorry I'm being over dramatic. It's just I just started thinking about all the other people who are going. There's probably going to be some amazing artists there and-"

"Well you're pretty amazing too, otherwise they wouldn't have picked you. You're going to do great. Just go do what you love and stop worrying about everyone else," she interrupted, giving me a reassuring smile.

I sighed, realizing maybe I did need to calm down.

"I guess you're right. I'm probably worrying too much," I admitted, swinging my bag over my shoulder.

That was one of my biggest problems. In general, I wasn't really an insecure person at all. Most of the time, I couldn't care less about what people thought of me. I lived my life simply and mostly only worried about being a better me, rather than trying to live up to other people's standards. However, when it came to art, I was a completely different person.

Art was basically the only thing I was really good at, and if I wasn't good enough at it, I feared I would get nowhere in life. Without art, all I could see myself doing was being a stay-at-home mother who only painted in her free time and did nothing big with it. Now, don't take this the wrong way. I have nothing against stay-at-home moms. It's just not something I wanted to become.

I had dreams and aspirations. I was an ambitious person, and not getting anywhere with the only talent I had felt like a sin to me. Letting something like that go to waste pained me more than anything in the world. So, when I thought of all the amazing people who could be better than me, I couldn't help but feel scared.

I have to admit I'm pretty good at it, but I still had no idea what was coming my way. I wanted to win this competition more than anything. It was my one chance to prove to the world that I had what it took.

"Yeah, a little," she said, letting out a light chuckle. "Now, let's go. Show them what June Love is all about."

--

When we arrived, I excitedly walked in and was astonished by all the art in the room. It was literally like artists' paradise. There were famous pieces of art everywhere; it made me feel as if I had no right to be in such place. The fact the winner of the course would have their work hung up in this room was almost unreal to me.

"Do you see this place? Blue, this is too good to be true," I commented dreamily, still awed at what was before my eyes.

I noticed two specific pieces of abstract art hung up on the wall; they stood out from the rest. They were hung side by side, each canvas covered in loud and vibrant colorful strokes. There was so much going on in each one that you couldn't really make out what exactly the artist had tried to make. They were the kind of paintings that each pair of eyes sees differently. There wasn't a specific image to decipher—it was just what your mind made of it.

That was what I loved about abstract art. I considered it my favorite type of art, even though I wasn't born with the talent to make it myself. It just intrigued me.

"Yeah yeah, but we gotta hurry. You're already late." She brought me back to reality, pointing at the clock on the wall.

My eyes widened.

It was already 8:03am and the class started at 8:00am. What a great way to give a first impression. Late on the first day.

Good job, June.

"Crap, you're right. Alright, see ya later. Wish me luck!" I said, starting to walk faster towards the classroom.

"Good luck!"

When I arrived to the course hall, I spotted a door with the number 27. There it was.

I quickly fixed my hair to make a somewhat good impression, despite the fact I was already late. As I walked in and immediately felt all eyes on me, causing me to smile nervously.

"Sorry I'm late." I felt embarrassment take over me. I could feel my hands starting to get sweaty and internally groaned. I didn't like standing in front of a class, much less like this.

The teacher, who's name I was yet to find out, stared at me for a second and then he spoke.

"Make sure it doesn't happen again. Take a seat wherever," he said firmly, and I nodded.

I looked around the classroom, trying to spot an empty seat, and was suddenly met by a pair of green eyes.

No, this can't be happening.

I quickly looked away, hoping there would be another free spot, but soon noticed there was only a seat between him and another guy.

Of course. This was obviously the world against me.

I walked over to where the empty seat was and everyone just stared at me until I sat down. I awkwardly hung my bag on the chair and struggled to pull the stool out, given there was only a small space between my row and the one behind. Seriously, this was not convenient. It didn't help at all when you're under that kind of pressure.

After what seemed like forever, I finally managed to get my butt on that stool and the teacher began to talk again.

"Alright class, the first 3 days of this course will be for me to get to know you, as well as for all of you to get to know each other in terms of your artistic abilities with something fairly easy," he started.

"First off, we will be making clay sculptures. You will have to make one that looks the same as the picture I will give you—or at least try to make it as accurately as possible. Each one of you will get a different picture. Your deadline will be at the end of this week." He finished explaining. I smiled at this.

Clay sculpting was easy. I was totally going to nail this one.

While the teacher started handing out all the pictures, people began to chatter. I looked around me and noticed since I was in between two guys, I had to pick one to talk to. However, coffee guy was obviously not an option—apart from the fact he was writing in some kind of journal, and the other guy was already talking to someone. I sat there in silence for about ten seconds, not quite sure what I was supposed to do with myself. Well, this is awkward.

Thankfully, the teacher made his way to our side of the room quickly and gave us our pictures. Mine seemed to be a little complicated to make, but I was certain I could do it.

I looked over to see what the brown haired guy next to me had gotten and noticed that it was a sculpture I had made once in an art camp. That one was probably one of the hardest ones I had ever seen.

"Looks like you've got a lot of work to do with that one, huh?" I told him, eyeing the picture placed in front of him.

"Nah, it's fairly easy. There's been worse," he replied nonchalantly.

I faked a laugh.

"...right," I said, pretending to agree with him.

He must be pretty good...

"I'm Blake, by the way. Blake Dawson," he said, giving me a friendly smile.

"Nice to meet you. I'm June. June Love," I replied with the same friendly smile. "Oh, by the way, what's the teacher's name?" I asked, realizing I would probably need to know that.

"Mr. Falkov."

I said thanks and shot him a grateful smile before looking back down at the picture placed in front of me. After analyzing it for a couple of moments, I began to work on my sculpture. I was really into it, whereas coffee boy seemed to still be analyzing his picture.

I begun to gather up the pieces of clay and, soon, it started to look like something.  I smiled at my work, proud of how I was doing so far. Just as I was about to continue, coffee boy spoke.

"Hey, what's your name?" He asked out of nowhere.

"Uh, June Love," I replied, confused at his random question.

"Nice to meet you, June Love. I'm Aiden Blackwood. You took my clay," he stated bluntly, and I frowned.

So his name was Aiden. Aiden Blackwood. It suited him.

"No I didn't," I said, giving him a look.

"Uhm, yes you did. Mine's all gone," he said, pointing at the spot where his clay was supposed to be but no longer was.

"Why would I take your clay?" I retorted, annoyed at his false accusation.

"I don't know. You tell me." He shrugged, confused.

I narrowed my eyes at him and then looked around to see if I could spot any extra clay lying on the ground. Suddenly, I saw a bag lying on the floor full of clay.

I turned back around and looked at him right in the eyes.

"You dropped your bag," I said firmly, and then pointed at the bag of clay on the floor, giving him an annoyed look.

"Oh," was all he could say, and I just rolled my eyes.

Idiot. He could've at least looked around before accusing me.

He walked over to where the bag was to pick it up and as he was coming back, he accidentally bumped into my desk, knocking over all the work I'd done.

"Hey! Watch what you're doing! You just knocked down all my work!" I exclaimed, feeling my cheeks burning up with anger already.

Suddenly, everyone turned to look at us.

"Crap I- I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"Whatever. Save the apology," I cut him off, already picking up all the pieces of clay I'd worked on.

And people say I'm clumsy.

"Let me help you at least." He tried, and I glared at him, placing the last piece of clay on my desk.

"You've done enough," I replied coldly, not even looking at him. I know maybe I was being a little harsh but I honestly didn't feel like putting up with him. Part of me already disliked him and this just proves the dude is clueless. I was not going to waste my time trying to pretend I liked him.

I looked at the pieces on my table that still managed to stick together and frowned. Now, my work looked like some kind of deformed rat.

He chuckled.

"Why are you laughing? This isn't funny. Want me to knock YOUR stuff ove-"

"Enough!"

Aiden and I both turned around, startled at the sudden yell.

Standing there was an angry Mr. Falkov.

"Sorry, it's just-"

"Just nothing. Both of you stop bickering in my class and get back to work before I kick both of you out of here," he glowered, staring at us angrily.

"Yes, sir." Aiden nodded, sitting back down, clearly embarrassed.

Yeah, not so funny now, huh?

I gave him one last death glare before looking back at my work.

Today was definitely not the best way to make a first impression.

I began to tear all the remaining pieces of my sculpture apart, deciding that starting over was the best option. Trying to work on top of a few deformed pieces was pointless. I wasn't going to let my first piece of work look average. If starting over was what it took to make it look as best as I could, then so be it. I was willing to do whatever I had to.

About thirty seconds later, I heard his voice again.

"Hey, at least you still have two more days to fix your rat," he whispered, attempting to brighten up the mood.

Is he actually serious right now?

"A rat? It's not a freaking rat! You're the only rat around here," I replied, very maturely.

He began to laugh as if I had made some kind of joke.

Why does he keep laughing?!

"Really? You couldn't come up with something better to say?" He asked, still smiling a bit.

"Shut up," I grumbled, looking back down at my work.

Wow, great comeback June.

"Whatever you say, cupcake." He whispered, with a smirk on his face. I raised an eyebrow, and slowly turned my head to look at him again.

"Don't call me that," I shot back, annoyed at his attitude.

Who does he think he is?

He just chuckled once again, and continued to work on his sculpture.

Unbelievable. This guy is a lot more annoying than I thought he would be.

Great.

Note my sarcasm.

I honestly don't know how I'll be able to make it through these 8 weeks without punching that pretty face of his.

--

"Alright. That's it for today. I'm hoping tomorrow's behavior will be better," Mr. Falkov said, not mentioning any names but obviously referring to Aiden and I.

I grabbed my stuff and quickly made my way out. Today was supposed to be good but no, coffee boy had to ruin it all. I never had a good vibe about him, but today's events just gave me a valid reason to really not like him.

The jerk even laugh at the situation.

As I reached the exit, I spotted Blue waiting for me outside. I made my way over to her and sighed.

"Soooo, how was it?" She asked, a little too excitedly.

"Ugh, it was awful. The worst thing happened. It's like the universe was against me or something," I exaggerated, putting my hand out on the street to call for a taxi.

Although, who can blame me? I mean, it was pretty bad.

"I bet you're overdramatizing." She rolled her eyes. "What happened?"

Obviously she was expecting me to come back thrilled about the whole experience. In all honesty, I thought this would be a great day. I woke up feeling rainbows and sunshine flowing through my veins, sure that I would enjoy it. My gut feeling was telling me everything would be great, that I would stand out (Well, in a way, I did stand out today. Just not how I hoped I would), and would make an amazing art friend. I was so hopeful about it, and I don't get my hopes up too often. Now you can see why. Also, this is why I don't trust my gut feeling very often either. Most of the time, it works backwards. I'll have a good feeling about something and then the whole situation turns out to be awful. I know I should've learned that by now, but part of me always hopes it's right for once.

"Well, first I was late. As if it weren't enough, turns out coffee boy was there and I had to sit next to him," I told her, narrowing my eyes at nothing in particular, just at the thought of the memory.

She rolled her eyes once again.

"That's the big deal? That's not even bad. Plus, he's cute, why would you be bothered by that?" She asked, smirking and wiggling her eyebrows at me teasingly.

I gave her a look.

"No. He accused me of stealing his clay and then accidentally knocked over my sculpture and LAUGHED about it when he saw my deformed rat looking piece of work, which was his fault anyway. And of course, now the teacher hates me for making a scene in his class. It was horrible. I can't stand him,"  I defended my point, annoyed again at the thought of the whole situation.

"The teacher or coffee boy?" she asked, dumbly.

"Coffee boy!" I replied sassily, giving her a 'duh' look.

"Okay, okay. Just making sure." She laughed, raising her hands up in surrender.

"Even his name sounds like a jerk. Aiden Blackwood," I mumbled.

"I think it sounds hot." She shrugged, and I turned to look at her.

"Stop that. He's a punk."

She giggled.

"Well ya gunna have to deal with the punk for the next eight weeks so get used to it pumpkin'," ahe said, and I groaned.

"Ugh don't remind me."