Time Runs Through Our Veins.

003. Rylan's point of view.
I find Mr. Smith at my easel.

“Sir?”

“Huh? Oh hello, Rylan. How are you today?”

“I’m…uh…it doesn’t matter.” I mumble. “What are you doing?”

He smiles. “I was just looking over your project. Its due Friday, you know?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“Oh, nothing. I enjoy it greatly. I was wondering where you and Nolan were going with it.” He says absently, looking back at the painting.

“We don’t have a direction. We just kinda take turns drawing lines and its just…a mess right?”

“Yes.” He says bluntly. “But that’s what makes it special. Each line is a representation of what you were thinking at the time. As is each color.”

“What? How can you tell?” I ask.

“I watch you and Nolan work together. Slowly and quietly while your classmates run around wildly. Each stroke has a purpose and its amazing. I’m going to pair you two together for the rest of the year.” He decides.

The bell rings and he stands up from my easel.

I think about what he said about Nolan. I guess we do work well together but that’s just because we understand each other. We don’t need to fill the silence with meaningless chatter. I guess, in a way, he’s my escape too.

Whoa. Did I really just think that?

I shake my head as Nolan enters the room. He puts his head down and weaves his way towards me.

Suddenly his feet are knocked from under him and he sprawls on the floor.

“George! What the hell, man?” I yell springing up.

“What? He looked like he needed a trip. Send me a postcard, Fag.” George laughs, looking at Nolan.

Nolan gets up, cheeks red. “Are you okay?” I ask.

His eyes widen in shock. Honestly, I’m scaring myself too. I never interact with him. EVER.

He nods and pulls up a stool to my easel.

George looks at me funny. “Why are you being nice to him?”

“I need him.” I answer automatically. “I cant finish this project If he has a broken are now can I?”

George laughs understandingly.

“Alright class! Get your paint and begin. You have an hour.” Mr. Smith announces.

I glide over to the supply closet and get the paint and the brushes.

When I turn around I crash into Nolan once again.

“God, Nolan! What the hell is wrong with you!?”
He cringes and I brush past him. “I thought I could help.” He mutters.
I roll my eyes. “You can help by sitting here and painting.” I hand him a brush. “And try not to fuck it up.”

He slips his ear buds in and dips his bush in orange paint.

For the rest of the period we sit in silence and focus on the painting.
_________________________________

“Rylan and Nolan. After class.” Mr. Smith says calmly.

The rest of the student file out as we sit quietly, waiting.

“I see that you two are almost finished.” Smith says happily.

“Not really.” I mumble.

“Oh? Well that a shame because I thought that if you finished early you could work on a contest entry.”

“A contest? For what?” Nolan asks.

“An art contest. Each school can submit a partner project and if you win you get to go to Atlanta for an art show.” He explains. “But if you don’t have time…”

“Whoa. I think I can make time.” I protest. This contest sounds like the perfect way to forget the divorce.

“Grand! Of course you’ll have to start tomorrow…” Smith trails off.

I turn to Nolan. “Do you think we could finish this project tonight?” I ask.

“I-I-I-I d-don’t-”

“We can go to my house. I could give you a ride and I’m sure Jordan wont mind. I mean, you come over sometimes anyway, right?” I trip over my words, trying to convince him.

“Okay! Okay, I have to check with my dad first.” He says trying to shut me up.

“Sweet. Meet me by the car after school. Jordan knows where we parked so find him.” I sight happily and sling my backpack over my shoulder. I jog out of the classroom without looking back.

Hopefully everything goes as planned.

It’s only a matter of time….