First Love

"Sit here." He instructed. I looked around the empty art room with intrigue. My father forbid me to enter this room. He knew if he did, I would end up like my mother.

I tried to stop myself but two alluring things were waiting inside and I couldn't pass up what could be my one and only chance of freedom.

Obeying the boy who is currently my only source of distraction, I sat on what appeared to be a modeling stool. He stood behind a canvas with his green eyes shining. He was going to draw me.

"My name is Cyrus. Cyrus Lancaster." He said and my eyes light up at the sound of his last name. It reminded me of my favorite book.

"Have you ever read The Fault In Our Stars?" I asked him. He looked at me with a smile.

"Actually, I have." He replied and my heart missed a beat. My chest ached as the realization that I wasn't dreaming set in and this boy was starting to fulfill every fantasy I've ever had.

"Wow, I wasn't expecting a yes as an answer...did you like it?" I replied almost too mesmerized to speak in a normal tone. He laughed, making my eyes grow wider. His laugh was beautiful.

"Of course. How could I not? The story wasn't about the fact that she had cancer, it was about how life was worth living." He told me and I smiled and looked down.

"Don't." He suddenly said and my eyes met his. There was a fire that burned in my stomach at the sight of his eyes connecting with mine. Sparks zoomed between our gazes, giving me the courage to look away first.

"Don't hide your smile." He whispered and I looked at him again, analyzing his motives behind what he was saying.

"Why did you take an interest in me?" I asked as he picked up a pencil and began to draw. His hand looked graceful as every stroke elegantly sliced down the page.

"I just...wanted to get to know you. Plus I have a knack for helping people and you were crying." He replied.

I smiled again, this time not looking away from him. His eyes flickered over to me before receding back to the canvas.

"So, you show up. The first person you see is a girl crying outside. You go over to her and be sweet in the process, then take her to the art room to draw her? Is this what they do in England or are you just making a reputation for yourself?" I spat out, suddenly getting defensive. I was almost afraid to hear his answer, knowing with my luck it will be the latter of what I said.

His response was to chuckle.

Chuckle.

That's it. No, "It's not what we do in England, I was just distracting you," or, "Yes, I'm trying to build up a rep for being a sleazy, stuck up, but generous and sweet asshole."

He. Just. Laughed.

I picked up my things and escaped from whatever ridicule was about to be thrown my way.

As soon as I exited the room, I slammed into a hard chest.

Drew Carson.

That's the face I saw when I looked up.

This day just keeps getting better...