The school week passed slowly, to say the least. I was waiting for it to get better, but it never did. Like I thought before, one-on-one classes proved to be an issue with me constantly daydreaming more than I’d care to admit. I had a huge hunk of homework lying on my desk and Rowan constantly asking us to hang out. As each day passed, though, she calmed a bit more. Thank goodness, because I would never introduce her to James if she was going to freak out and faint. When Saturday hit, I decided against doing anything major and did the one thing I knew well and loved: art.

The living room was littered with all of my art supplies. Papers, pencils, markers, and paints covered the entire coffee table, most of the floor, and half of the couch. My mind was strung from five cups of coffee and several snack wrappers could be found in the mess of art on the ground. I was trying my hand at freehand, something I didn’t usually do. Typically, I liked having a model or something to copy, but I always felt good after I worked my brain to get the picture out of my head and on paper, not to mention Art Seminar homework. At least the house was empty so I could blast my music and spread all of my work across the house.

The doorbell threw me off and my head snapped to attention. Nobody else was home, meaning I would have to answer the door. What if it was a murderer though? Being strung on caffeine and sugar, I somersaulted towards the stairs, crawled down the stairs on my stomach, and then ninja rolled towards the door. Sliding up, I put my eye to the peephole only to see a tall figure wearing sunglasses, a beanie, and the hood of his jacket was pulled over his head.

“Who is it?” I said in a high pitched, sing-songy voice, attempting to sound British. The person’s face crinkled in confusion.

“I should be asking you the same thing,” the voice responded, low and British. 

“I’m Mrs. Nesbitt!” I replied, not giving a second thought to the name that popped into my head. 

“Camille?” The person’s face looked more humored now. “Did you seriously just use Buzz Lightyear’s name when he gets kidnapped by Sid’s sister?” In my caffeine-strung mind, I realized that I did, in fact, used Buzz Lightyear’s other name. But I couldn’t let the strange person know that, so I remained indifferent.

“No, my name is Mrs. Nesbitt, now who the heck are you?” Six cups of coffee in the past few hours probably wasn’t the best idea. The figure looked warily up and down the street, before pulling off his hat, hood, and shades. My eyes widened excitedly as I flung open the door.

“Liam!” I practically yelled, throwing my hands in the air. 

“Cam!” He imitated my enthusiasm. “Or is it Mrs. Nesbitt?” He asked, a smirk crossing his lips.

“Whichever works for you,” I waved my hand to signal he could come in as I started walking towards the stairs.

“Are you drunk or something?” He said as I heard the door slam and he followed me up.

“I don’t drink, Liam. You should know this,” I fake scolded.

“I know, but you’re acting a little strange,” he commented as I hopped up the stairs.

“I had a couple cups of coffee.”

“A couple as in two or a couple as in...?”

“Six, and the next pot is brewing right now,” I said, reaching the top of the stairs.

“That is the last thing you need.” I shrugged as I turned towards the kitchen, Liam still following me.

“What are you doing here anyway?” I asked.

“Wow, no need to be rude.” I mumbled a quick apology. “James and I were supposed to go play a game of football with the lads. Where is he?” I turned to face Liam.

“He’s not here. I haven’t seen him since earlier this morning. I mean, he should be home soon. I think. Honestly, I have no idea.”

“I knew he’d forget,” Liam mumbled to himself. “Mind if I wait here for him?”

“Nah, go for it.” I was impressed how I kept my enthusiasm under wraps, but I was guessing that caffeine was just doing weird things to all my emotions. The coffee pot beeped to say the coffee was finished as I grabbed my mug and pulled the pot from it’s stand.

“Oh no you don’t,” Liam said, stepping in front of me, taking the pot from my hand.

“No!” I whined. “Give me my coffee.”

“You don’t need anymore. You’re weird enough as it is.”

“Yes I do! It’s my fuel.” I over-exaggerated every syllable and used my hands dramatically.

“Fuel for what? You’re at home, doing nothing.”

“For that.” I pointed in the general direction of the living room and I saw Liam cock an eyebrow as he began to saunter over there, curiously. The music was still blaring and I remembered my artwork strewn about the room.

“No, wait! Don’t go over there,” I said urgently. He gave an amused look as he continued to walk over. “Liam, listen to me, you’re not allowed.” He quickened his pace as I started to hurry over to the living room to try and hide my work. Certain pieces were still drying though and I couldn’t simply gather them together and stuff them under the couch.

“Bloody -” his words were swallowed by my loud music. “Cam, what is all of this?” I nearly dove in the room, getting in front of him, waving my hands and shuffling back and forth so he couldn’t look at the room. But I was at least half a foot shorter than him, not to mention a great deal weaker and that didn’t stop him from quickly picking me up and placing me to the side so he could get a better look. I watched as he bent down and picked up one of my sketches of a flower in the palm of a hand. I wasn’t really proud of that one, the shading didn’t come off quite right for me.

“You... drew this?” He asked, holding the drawing so I could look at it better.

“Yeah, I don’t like it very much. I’ll just take that-”

“Whoa, wait.” My hand stopped in mid-grab. “How did I never know you drew like this?” He asked, seeming fully concerned that I had been keeping that bit of myself hidden.

“Because it’s not important? I don’t know, I like to do art. Art is pretty. But not everyone needs to see my crap sketch.” Liam’s eyes widened.

“Crap sketch? Cam, you’re joking. This isn’t rubbish. This is really, really good.” I felt my cheeks burn as the blush crept up, turning my entire face red. He walked over to where there was the empty spot in the middle of the clutter as he examined the contents on the floor. My paintings took up one side, sketches took up another, weird collages that I put together randomly stacked off on the couch. I analyzed Liam as he scrutinized each picture. My entire body was tense and I wasn’t enjoying all this sudden attention on things that I poured my life and imagination into.

“Where did you learn how to draw?”

“Excuse me?” I shook my head in confusion.

“Where did you learn this? A class, a video, a book, Da Vinci?” I snorted at the last comment.

“I don’t know, I just saw something that I wanted to replicate so I drew it. I mean, I was in art class back home, but it was mostly a free period.” I shrugged like this wasn’t as big of a deal as he was making it.

“Any other hidden talents that I should be aware of? Are you secretly a very talented singer and all you’re waiting for is the proper stage and someone to truthfully tell you you’re incredible.” My eyes widened in horror.

“Stages frighten me. So no. No hidden singing or acting or performing talent.”

“Well, that’s too bad. I would really love to see you perform,” he said, sounding completely sincere. But I didn’t buy it for a second.

“What? So you could laugh at my terrible stage fright, bad voice, and awkward acting?”

“Pretty much,” he smirked and I hit his arm. “Hey! I’m fragile.” I scoffed. Understatement of the century. That boy was built like a rock. 

“Anyway, James should be here relatively soon, so you can just chill here for awhile,” I told him. He abided and pushed my artwork to the side and flopped down on the couch.

“Yeah sure, just make yourself at home,” I said sarcastically.

“Gladly,” he smiled widely.

“Could you at least stack my work and put it somewhere off to the side?” He shrugged passively.

“Maybe,” he replied. I narrowed my eyes at him. “Alright, fine,” he huffed, grabbing the sheets of paper and moving them to the coffee table. I decided that was good enough and headed back into the kitchen to grab my next cup of coffee. Some people use alcohol to get inspiration; the whole ‘write drunk, edit sober’ type thing. Caffeine practically is my drug and it works just as effectively.

“Cam! No caffeine!” he yelled from the living room.

“I do what I want, foo’!” I called back. “Besides, I have stuff that needs to be done and I do it better with caffeine.”

“Oh really? You do it better with caffeine?” I heard him say suggestively.

“Oh my gosh, Liam, I did not mean that! I can’t draw without caffeine. It helps and I need it for my art class homework.” 

“You do realize you have a living room full of artwork that you could use.”

“But I don’t know if I’m happy with those pieces. I’ll just make a bunch and then choose,” I said, pouring the hot coffee in my mug and adding cream and sugar. While stirring it all together, I went back into the room to find Liam flipping through TV channels like he owned the place. I settled down on the floor, picking up my graphite and sketch book and started on a new drawing. I could feel Liam’s eyes trained on my work and I did all I could to obscure his view a bit.

“Hey, I want to see,” he complained.

“Watch TV,” I mumbled, putting my focus in a complicated design. He sighed dramatically behind me and I heard him fall back against the back of the couch.

It was weird to have Liam chilling on the couch for such a long amount of time. The weirdest bit, at least to me, was that it wasn’t weird. We were comfortable and never for a moment did I feel like it was awkward and that I needed to say something or want James to come home. If anything, I wanted James to stay out for as long as possible. Eventually I set down my artwork and slid down, resting my neck against the seat of the couch adjacent to the one Liam was on. He looked practically passed out, but when I tried to steal the remote, he clutched it tighter and muttered, “I’m watching this,” before turning up the volume a bit. I groaned and settled back in my spot, all energy waning. I don’t know how long we sat there, me drawing and chilling and he watching TV. But it was nice. And I enjoyed it a little too much.

“You should draw me a picture,” Liam said a while later, stretching his long body on the couch, making himself more comfortable.

“No,” I said. No way was I doing anything for him. Besides I was extremely comfortable sitting on the floor watching some British sit com. British humor confuses me.

“Please? Draw me a dragon or something simple.”

“I’m not going to do it. My drawing stuff is way over there and I’m too tired to concentrate on a picture right now.”

“An hour ago you were jumping off the walls and popping art out of nowhere and now you’re tired?”

“Caffeine died on me.”

“Here. I’ll strike you a deal.” I turned to face him, raising my eyebrow interested. “If you draw me a picture, I’ll make you a proper cuppa.” My face crinkled in confusion.

“A proper what?”

“Cuppa? Cup of tea? You know, that hot liquid that tastes-”

“I know what a cup of tea is,” I deadpanned his sarcasm.

“Anyway, I’ll make you a cuppa. Because mine are the best,” he said proudly.

“I thought Ava made the best.” He frowned.

“No. No, she’s a liar. I make the best.”

“I guess you’ll just have to prove it.” I shrugged, hoping he would just make me tea and I wouldn’t have to draw him something.

“Only if you draw me something.”

“Lee-umm,” I whined.

“Just draw me an octopus. I’ll make your cuppa while you draw me that.”

“An octopus?” I raised an eyebrow.

“What? It’s my favorite animal.”

“That... is really weird.”

“Octopi are cool! And weird, sure, but I think they’re awesome.” I furrowed my brow as I studied him, debating if I could even draw a worthy octopus for him. The main reason I was not wanting to draw him something was in case it turned out like a random blob and he realized I was a terrible artist. He pouted his lips and did puppy dog eyes, folding his hands in front of him as if he was begging me to do this for him.

“Ugh, fine! You make me tea first. I need to wake up again.” Liam beamed and flew off the couch, heading to the kitchen. I groaned and laid my head against the edge of the couch seat. I was going to regret this.

“Wait, Cam, where’s all your tea stuff?”

“Cupboard beside the stove, mugs in the cupboard beside the fridge,” I directed him, not willing to get up and show him. I heard him shuffling about in the kitchen as he found the things he needed and I waited patiently as he made it.

“Is James ever going to come home?” Liam asked from the kitchen.

“I don’t know, why don’t you text him?”

“Too much work,” he replied and I wanted to tell him that he was currently making me tea and considering that not work, but y’know what? I didn’t want James to come home anytime soon. Call me selfish, but having Liam to myself and making me tea was kind of ideal.

A few minutes later, Liam came back in the room smiling like a little boy on Christmas with a steaming mug in his hands.

“Be careful, ‘cause it’s hot,” he told me as he set it down on the coffee table. I picked it up, feeling the heat radiating through the mug and looked to see Liam watching me expectantly. Slowly I lifted it to my lips and took a small sip of the hot liquid. The taste of the tea was perfect. I don’t know how he did it, but the amount of cream and sugar and actual tea taste was just mind-blowingly perfect.

“It’s good, right?” He asked, a smile taking over his face.

“How do you make this?” I asked, quickly taking another sip, even if it was burning my tongue.

“My secret. Maybe I’ll tell you when I’m allowed to call you Cammie,” he said and I wanted to laugh at his desire to call me that.

“Ugh, fine. But I don’t know if I can wait that long,” I said.

“Good. Now. Draw me my octopus,” he demanded and I groaned. Definitely did not feel like drawing anymore. I set down the mug and picked up my sketchbook and charcoal. Liam perched himself on the edge of the couch, ready to watch me do my thing.

“I don’t do well with people watching me work,” I told him and he frowned.

“Fine, I’ll just go watch some crap telly over there then,” he replied faux-bitterly.

“You do that.” With that I set down to work.

Only the thing was... I didn’t feel like working. So I did a lazy drawing of an octopus. Just a simple circle in the middle of my page with eight tentacles and big cartoon eyes. There was no shading, no bit of reality in that picture. But I didn’t care.

“Alright, done,” I said, throwing my sketch pad on his lap. 

“Wow, you must really be incredible if you can finish that fa-” he stopped his words and then scowled at the picture. “That’s not very nice, Cam.”

“What isn’t?” I replied, faking sweetness.

“I want a real picture. Of a real octopus. Don’t get me wrong, my sister would adore this. But I want it to look more lifelike,” he instructed me and I groaned again.

“Fine, hand it back. I’ll redo.” He threw my sketchbook back and I flipped the page over and, taking one giant gulp of tea, I set back down to make a worthy drawing.

With each stroke, I felt my energy return to me, but this time I wasn’t shaking or acting insane. I had enough caffeine in me to focus on that one thing that I needed to be focusing on and that was drawing an octopus. I had never drawn an octopus before, so I suppose I should be thanking Liam for stretching my limits. A curve there, an eye there. Darker shading underneath, a stroke across its head. My lip was being chewed off as I concentrated on the drawing, my foot falling asleep as I sat cross-legged, as well as my hand becoming tight. Laying my pen down, I rotated my wrist, cracking it until I felt it loosen.

“Is it done yet?” Liam asked from his spot.

“I don’t know. You tell me.” I passed my sketchbook back over, having a gut feeling he wouldn’t like it and I would have to redo again. He took the book in his hands and studied the picture, his eyebrows creasing together.

“It sucks, doesn’t it? Hand it back, I’m sorry you had to witness that.” I reached out for my sketchbook.

“No. No, no, no. I want to keep this. Can you sign it?” I looked at him incredulously. He was joking, he had to be! “I’m serious, Cam. Stop giving me that weird look that says, ‘Liam, you’re crazy.’”

“My drawing is not that good and you’re the celebrity! I should be asking you for your autograph!” Liam sat up and rested his feet on the floor.

“You really don’t have a lot of faith in your artistic abilities, do you?” Liam asked, his voice a bit softer than before, leaning forward so his elbows were on his knees.

“Why should I? Nobody but my family compliments me on my work,” I told him and I saw Liam’s face purse in thought.

“I have an idea.” He stood to his feet and pulled out his phone and aimed the camera to the picture laying on the couch. “Ready for the entire world to know of your talent?” 

“What do you mean? Liam... what are you doing?” He smiled mischievously.

“Just taking a picture and posting it on Twitter.”

“No! You will not do that!” He began to smile a little more evilly. “Liam, seriously. Please don’t.” His expression looked a little disappointed, but softened.

“Fine, I won’t. But trust me when I say this is impeccably good.”

“Sure, I believe you,” I shrugged, but smiled honestly. I was telling the truth when I said only my family has complimented me on my work. Sure, I did well in art class and never got anything less than an ‘A’, but sometimes outside affirmation just made everything feel better.

“Yo, Cammie! Guess who’s your favorite person today? It’s me, ‘cause I bought you a burger!” My head snapped towards the direction of the stairs, hearing James enter the house.

“Oh my gosh, James, where have you been?”

“Errands! Why? I had nothing planned today,” he said, his voice carrying as he came up the stairs.

“What about football, mate?” Liam asked as James rounded the corner and came into the living room. James’ face scrunched in confusion as he pieced together what his original plans were. Then, as if someone flipped a switch, his entire face realized what was happening.

“Dude, I am so sorry. It’s not too late though. We can still head out. Just give me five minutes, I’ll go throw on my shorts and cleats,” James said, placing a bag on the table and starting for the stairs up.

Liam looked down at his phone and said, “yeah, the lads are still down at the field. Hurry up though, I’ve been waiting here for an hour.” James gave a quick thumbs up and ran to his room.

“Well, Camille, this has been fun,” Liam began, standing to his feet. “Thank you for the drawing and it will be mounted on my wall in my flat.” I tried to hide my ridiculous grin taking over, but it was hopeless.

“I’m glad you like it. As for now, I think I better clean up and not drink any more caffeine for the rest of the day,” I said, grabbing my tea mug and taking it back into the kitchen as Liam followed.

“Probably a good idea. You get a little mental with coffee,” Liam said.

“I know, I’m trying to cut down.”

“With six cups in one sitting?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes...” I replied, skeptic of my own answer.

“Liam! Let’s go before it gets dark out! Bye Cammie baby, enjoy your burger!” James called, bounding down the stairs.

“See you later, Cam,” Liam said, a small smile appearing as he then turned and headed out the door.

My heart did a weird sort of flutter and I could feel my entire body relax as he left my sight. My breathing became a bit more normal and my thoughts were a little clearer. Why was I already getting this way? I barely knew Liam! I shouldn’t be getting nervous and ridiculous around him! And I could tell the difference between me getting excited because he was famous or because it was him. Maybe it was the way that he smiled at the simple things or the way he talked to me like a regular person. 

I’m not entirely sure, but something about Liam Hawthorne was making me a little crazy and I don’t know what do with that.

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Hello you wonderful people you! 

Look at this! It's an early update because I've actually been writing. Or I wrote this part in March and have had it ready for awhile :P But that's not important!

What did you think? Liam being a little cutie patootey? I don't know man, I just really really like him. More than Cam I think because I know things she doesn't. #feelingevil

I'm now in Canada visiting my best friend, but I should have quite a bit of freetime because she's working *coughlosercough* Sorry Steph. 

Anyway, remember to VOTE. COMMENT. FAN. SHARE. DO STUFF. I don't know bro.

Have a fabulous day and stay classy!

-Katie