Chapter 13

I didn't know how to feel about what he said, or rather how he said it to only my hearing. His words were so clear to me, that I had almost started to believe them. It was only when the bell went off that my senses kicked in, forcing me to back away from him.

"I am so sorry you had to see that, just forget..."
"Here." He interrupted, shoving his right hand into his pocket, pulling out a soft black handkerchief, offering it to me. Before I could even say no, he had dropped it in my palm and walked away in the opposite direction.

I trained my gaze on him, watching him walk away, fighting the urge to run after him and tell him how much I wanted him to stay a little while longer. Once he mixed perfectly into the crowd of students flocking to class, my fingers grazed the fabric of the handkerchief.

"Soft." I moaned to myself, bringing it to my eyes as I swiftly wiped off the tears that ruined my appearance.

The moment the handkerchief pressed against my nose, his scent flooded my head, causing my chest to tighten.

"The hell?" I voiced out, placing my left hand to my chest, perplexed as to why my body reacted that way to his scent. Without sparing a second more, I dashed to my next class, hoping not to think too much about everything that just happened.

*Art class*
The moment I walked into the room, I already knew I was screwed. Due to the fact that I made a pit stop at the girl's locker room to touch up my face, I arrived late.

So late that Cameron thought I was ditching and let someone else take my spot. The only other available spot, was the one right next to him.

"Take a seat Miss West, and let class continue." The teacher warmly said to me, pulling me out of my thoughts. I simply nodded and scanned the entire class for an extra seat, as I slowly walked towards the only available seat.

I sat on the stool, and pointed my gaze at the eisle in front of me, pretending I couldn't see Carlisle sketching something beside me.

"Good, let's continue from where we left off, we were giving criticism for everyone's work. I believe it's Mr stoll's turn." I heard the teacher say from the front, saving me from a very awkward class.

The whole class fell dead silent, as Carlisle stood up, making sure to hide his face in his hoodie, not wanting to stand out much.

I pretended to casually arrange my pencils, acting as though I wasn't interested in seeing which of the sketches belonged to him.

*He's in this class? Since when?*
*Does he actually have any talent?*
*Guys like him probably take this class for extra credits.*

From every corner of the room, negative things about him were loudly whispered, all with no consideration that he might have caught what they were saying.

I furrowed my brows at their taunts, but couldn't help think them right. After all, after Cameron topping the class, I was a close second. If Carlisle was good at art, he might have ranked a bit higher, at least high enough to be recognized.

"Please stand in front of your work and let the class give their critism." Our cheerfully teacher told him, smiling too wildly as she tried to take a good look at his face.

He complied with her, walking towards the hideous drawings made by a majority of the gossipers. The only drawing that stood out in that section, was the one I had messed up.

And frankly speaking, even I knew that he wasn't as talented as that artist. It was definitely our teacher who might have sketched it and left it with the other drawings.

"Alright class, give your honest and constructive criticism for Mr Stoll's artwork."
My jaw dropped the second I lifted my gaze to see which of the miserable drawings he had made.

Carlisle stood beside the drawing of the girl trapped in a bottle, the same sketch that I had accused him of ruining some time ago. He didn't even look at it nor did he look at us, his focus was on the floor, avoiding our gazes.

"Are you deaf too? You're supposed to stand in front of your own drawing!" Cameron announced from where he sat, somewhat pissed at Carlisle.

*Such a dunce.*
*As if he could do something that great even in his dreams*

Carlisle didn't even try to defend himself, he merely just stood still, staring at the floor, waiting for this class to end.

"It's rude to insult others class, especially when they aren't defending themself." The teacher announced, stepping into the conversation.

"But he's wasting our time, some people actually have a talent for art and paying customers too." Cameron pointed out, reminding the whole class, yet again of his part time job as an artist.

"Just so you all know, this work over here belongs to Mr Stoll, he did it by himself as well, under my supervision. He is just as talented as you are, and maybe even more talented. So I'd advise everyone here to think wisely next time before attacking a classmate." She sounded sterner as she spoke, obviously mad about how calm Carlisle was.

*Wait...he did that?*
*He doesn't look like he has an artist bone in his body*

"Ma'am, you can't be serious about him being the one who did that drawing. It isn't fair if you pass off one of your drawings as his just to make him feel better about himself." Cameron insisted, refusing to believe there could be someone else in class who could rival him in art.

"If you don't believe me, then let's have a little competition to prove it. You both get to sketch something or someone in class. It has been a while since we've done something like that." She proposed, taking this thing too far.

If Carlisle didn't speak up for himself, then he would be made a laughing stock in class. Especially if he's drawing against Cameron, who despite how rudely he sounded, was a very talented artist.

"I'm fine with that ma'am, but is he okay with it? I wouldn't want to force anyone into doing anything."

The teacher looked to Carlisle who had totally zoned out of the conversation. "Are you okay with this?" She asked him in a kinder tone, only now remembering she had gotten him involved in something this nasty.

He raised his vision from the ground and brought it to meet mine, locking his gaze to my own.
I felt blood rush up to both my cheeks, painting them with patches of crimson red blush, as my eyes quickly diverted to my laps.

"Yes." He answered, openly accepting the challenge in front of the class, with no way to take it back.

"Alright then, both of you get settled and I'll que you when it's time to start. But first things first, what are you going to be drawing?" The teacher asked them both, allowing them chose what they preferred.

"It's fine with you if I pick, right?" Cameron casually inquired, balancing his red pencil on his left ear, as his eyes scanned the class.
"Yes." Carlisle answered him, using only one word throughout the entire class.

"Then I pick Peyton to be our model for this competition." Cameron stated, pointing at me with a paint brush. The class shifted their attention towards me, putting me under a forced spotlight.

"Peyton, come up here for a second and help these young boys out. You'd make a perfect model for them." The teacher insisted, even going as far as to get me a stool, placing it by the full sized window.

As I nervously walked from my seat towards them, the only thing I could think of, was how unfair this competition was. Cameron had used me as drawing practice so much, that he could sketch me perfectly in his sleep.

Not to mention Carlisle almost never takes off his hoodie, drawing me with it still on would be a problem for him.

"Take any pose you feel comfortable with." I was told as I crossed my legs on top of each other and looked outside the window at the grey clouds hovering about the sky.

It might end up raining again today.

I'd have to take the bus.

"Alright boys, you have thirty minutes to reproduce the model in front of you. Start."
And just like that, both guys set out to work, focusing all their focus on the model, being me.

Though it wasn't my first time modelling for artists, knowing that Carlisle was drawing me in the way he saw me, made my chest tighten again. This time, far much worse than before.

It was then the thought ran through my mind, blocking out all other things around me.

*Just how did Carlisle picture me in his head? Who was I to him?*