THE Chainsmokers' 'It Won't Kill Ya' was blasting through my earphone as I walked in the FSS compound. It was a bright sunny afternoon, and I was done with my classes that day. I hardly spent time with my friends, so I was basically free. I was dressed in my usual black joggers and black cropped camisole. I had begun to wear it whenever I was going to watch her or follow her, because it helped me blend into the crowd easily and made people not notice me on time, considering how dark my skin was.
I dug my arms into my joggers pocket, taking my time to walk, kicking a stone every now and then.
As usual, she was out painting, looking stunning as ever. She was in a short red button up skirt, a tawny-orange long sleeve top tucked into it. She sat with her legs, crossed at the ankle and slanted to the side. Her hair was up in a red knotted headscarf. She looked mature, yet very adorable that day. I smiled to myself as I sat down at the usual cement chair I usually sat on. I pulled my phone out of my joggers, and began to read a novel.
After trying to read for about an hour, I gave up and lifted my head. I hadn't been able to pass the first line, my thoughts kept on drifting to thoughts about her.
I crossed my legs, trying to not make it look like I was looking at her. I looked around, looking at the statues that surrounded the environments. I at times looked at my phone, scrolling through Instagram. It was easier to deal with it, since I didn't need to pay it my full attention. It became a cycle. Look at her, the environment, then my phone.
Soon, it was becoming evening, and I was becoming glad. By then, people were going to start slipping away, leaving the place to be deserted and giving me space to talk to her.
She was leaning in the white plastic chair she was sitting on, operating her phone. She was simply scrolling, and sometimes double tapping, so I took it as a sign that she was probably going through Instagram like I occasionally was.
After some time, she leaned back in, going back to her painting.
My lips spread into a smile as warmth rushed through my body. She looked so pretty hot when she was focused. She bit gently at the bottom of her pink lips, popping it. She then itched at her jaw, before she grabbed a medium size flat brush and began to paint again.
My smile widened.
Staring at her for quite too much, I quickly looked away, praying someone hadn't noticed how I had been looking at her. That would have been so creepy. But, it didn't take long for my eyes to be back in her again.
The day moved fast and it was night already. I looked away from my phone, which had distracted me for quite a bit. She was using her small round brush, which was a sign that she was rounding off and was probably about to leave. So, I stood up. Like I hadn't learnt my lesson the day before, my legs began to make small steps towards her. That time around, she noticed me, but she quickly looked away like she hadn't seen me. So, I walked to her.
She began to pack her stuff, gathering her brush and covering her watercolors. It was like she was trying to escape me or something, but I was already by her side and admiring her painting. It was the painting of a single rose, with a thorny stem. It looked so, almost perfect. Most of her paintings I had seen, looked almost perfect. Like she had been drawing for a long time.
"Nice painting," I muttered, causing her head to snap to my direction. I smiled widely at her, trying to ignore how prominent her freckles were that day, making her look like a goddess.
"Thank you," she replied, not returning my smile as she looked away and continued to pack her things.
"You're welcome," I muttered, not knowing where else to head with the question.
She grabbed her canvas, and walked away. She was there, but I had nothing.
Day 2, nah fuck up.