บท 38: The Artist | Chapter Ten
"Are you paying attention to what I'm saying?"
"Uh, sure..."
I sighed at Xander's words, folding my legs yoga style as I watched him scribble away in his journal. We were in the guest room where he was staying and had been talking on his bed — somewhat. It had been more of a one-sided conversation with me talking about college and how I didn't want to share a kitchen or living room space.
"You're not listening to me," I complained, watching as Xander shook his head with a small throaty noise that sounded like some sort of denial. I groaned, rolling my eyes a bit before I looked away from him to his room. He'd personalized it so much. There were posters hanging everywhere, and his books scattered in every corner from his desk, beside it, under it and around his bed. The book he was writing in was the one he usually shoved under his bed. I frowned a bit at the realization, turning to face Xander who had a small smile on his face as he wrote.
"What are you writing?" My question seemed to throw him off because he immediately paused what he was doing to look at me with a non-focused gaze, like he'd been caught red-handed doing something embarrassing — which was probably the case now that I think about it.
"Nothing..." he trailed, closing the book. I bit my bottom lip, watching as he made to throw the book under the bed. If I was one of my sisters — probably Candice. I would have wrestled him for the book to take a peep, but from how defensive he was being I decided that it was probably safer to pretend like nothing happened and just stir the conversation in a different direction.
"What were you talking about again?"
Oh, he's doing that himself. I thought to myself when he spoke up in a shaky voice. I felt a little bad for killing his fun, but that didn't mean I was no longer curious about what he'd been writing.
"College really... Are you getting a roommate?" I asked, watching as he nodded in response.
"It's cheaper, and I don't really think I'd wake up early enough for classes if I was the only one in a room. Human alarm clocks are helpful, you know." We laughed at that, and I nodded at his words as I ran a hand through my hair. Xander and I got along fine, and he was one of my favorite cousins.
"Yeah, I get that," I said in response, thinking to how I used Wyatt as an alarm clock since he was always the first one to wake up and turn the lights in the hallway on. I let my gaze wander to the window, watching the light rain that had started a while ago. Raindrops were already making their way to the window's glass in small splattered stains.
"Plus, Maxwell's going to my college."
"What?"
"Nothing," Xander muttered. I frowned at him, watching as he turned his gaze to the window I'd been staring at just a moment ago.
"Who's Maxwell?" I asked, watching as Xander shrugged at my question with a sigh. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, you know," I added, not liking the almost painful expression on his face.
"He's a guy from my high school. He'll be studying music," Xander explained, playing with his fingernails that were long and well-manicured. "I like him — like a lot."
I ran a hand through my hair, feeling a little flustered by the pin drop silence that followed his words. Xander didn't say anything, but his face was flushed as his lips held a very small smile — almost sad.
"He's amazing," he added after a minute or two passed by.
"Okay..." I trialed, not knowing I should add to the discussion.
"If you don't want to talk about it I could shut up," Xander said in a nervous chuckle, making me shake my head.
"No, you can talk. I'm just — stunned?" I tried to explain as he laughed.
"Yeah, I guess you would be," he hummed, running a hand through his own brown locks. We both stared on at our socks and the purple bedsheet of his queen-sized bed. We didn't say anything for a while and just listened to the sound of the raindrops slapping the window's glass — the rain was heavier now.
"it would be great if he knew I existed, though." I heard Xander mutter, making me turn my gaze to him. I frowned a bit, a little confused by the statement.
"You said he went to your high school, right?" I asked, watching as my cousin nodded as he unfolded and refolded his legs to get rid of the pins.
"Yeah, he did. I was just a nobody no one knew so there's that. I've talked to him a few times, but I highly doubt he knows my name," Xander said, laughing a bit. I looked away, not knowing what to say yet again. I was available to listen, I guess, but I wasn't a talker sadly.
"He's really sweet and nice..." Xander trailed. "You were asking about what I was writing, right?" he said, randomly changing the topic as if it was an afterthought.
"Yes," I mumbled, watching as he visibly reddened before letting out a sigh. I watched him bend over the bed to retrieve the book he'd thrown under it, and when he got it, he held it in a tight grip against his chest.
"You know what fanfiction is, don't you?" he asked, making me frown as I tried to think. It was after remembering Candice mentioning something about fanfiction a few times that I muttered an 'oh' as my eyes grew wide with realization.
"So, yeah..." he trialed when he noticed that I now understood what he meant and was probably writing about. "Fanfiction, but not with a band or anything, but with him — and me — gosh, this is embarrassing. I'm sorry," he mumbled in an almost inaudible tone as his grip on his journal tightened. I just sat there on the bed with him, red-faced, and not knowing what to say.
"I know it's weird. I — I don't know. At least I'm not masturbating or anything—"
"Xander," I said in a firm tone, cutting him off. I really didn't want to know anything about what he was saying in any way.
"Oh, come on. You've done it before — you've done it. Everyone does it. It's just a bit weird when you have someone in mind," Xander said, rolling his eyes. I looked away from him, just balling my hands into loose fists as I tried to avoid his gaze. Sure, he was right, but it was still embarrassing.
"You can leave if you don't want to keep talking about this. I'm sorry," Xander said, probably taking note of my discomfort.
"Ah... I don't know," I said, admitting to my confusion as I massaged the area between my brows. I watched him nod at me as he hummed something under his breath. He then picked up the pen he'd stuffed under his pillow and continued writing in his journal. Err, I guess that's expected since he didn't have anything to hide anymore.
"What about you?"
"What?" I asked, raising a brow at him. He was looking straight at me now, a cheeky smile playing on his lips.
He shrugged. "You know. Who do you like?"
My face started to heat up immediately at the question. "No one," I said my words coming out and sounding just as defensive as they were. I started to wonder if he was asking out of curiosity or whether he was just trying to tease me.
"Come on. From someone with a helpless crush, I can tell. I know you like someone," Xander said with a small laugh. "I feel so much better now that I've told you about Maxwell. Why don't you tell me about whoever it is?"
I shrugged, sighing as I looked up at the roof above. It was done in box panels, and counting them until I lost track was a guilty pleasure of mine.
"I don't like anybody," I lied through my teeth, looking over at Xander. He stared on at me with his green eyes. A knowing look plastered on his face. The pressure from the stare alone had me looking away. I could soon hear Xander laughing, and I felt myself fluster with embarrassment.
"I like Toby," I finally admitted, coming clean. I looked over at Xander to find him staring at me with a confused look on his face.
"Toby?" he said as if asking me a question. "Toby, as in the Mr. Toby you work with, and the Mr. Toby your parents talked to during your graduation, right?" he asked. I wasn't sure how to react to his words. They sounded confused, and a bit pushy.
"Yeah," I confirmed, nodding.
"He's your teacher, isn't he?"
"Was — emphasis on was," I said, feeling a bit defensive. Xander muttered an 'oh', but the confused frown was still on his face.
"You're screwed. Sorry to be the one to tell you, but it's kind of hopeless." I found myself chuckling at his words instead of being driven to the sadness and defensiveness it would have a few weeks ago. He was right. Toby was being nice to me and all, but it was in a brotherly manner tinted with the heart-crushing taste of pity — bittersweet. I guess I'll just manage whatever tangible emotions were thrown my way until I went off to college.
It was a lost cause, and now, after two weeks of grieving, I was aware.
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