Prologue
"The Artists"

I'm watching her again and I can't stop.

I notice everything from the way she bites down on her lip, brushes her nose when she concentrates, narrows her eyes when she dislikes something...

I notice every little detail about her.

It's weird, I know it's weird, because if she was ever to catch me staring at her like this, the both of us would be embarrassed. But I just can't seem to help it.

I tell myself every lesson that I will go speak to her, yet I never go through with it. I always seem to melt, I can barely form a simple sentence when I'm around her.

Of course this makes me feel like the biggest idiot on the planet, because what type of guy can't speak to the girl he likes? And I know this isn't like me. If I wanted a girl on my arm, I would already have one at any time I please. But if I'm being honest, I don't really want any other girl on my arm besides her.

It's foolish, really.

She's like a far away dream, a silly little dream in my head. It's impractical. I'm Zayn and she's Evie Mae– we're practically polar opposites. I roll with the cool crowd while she rolls solo, not needing a group of friends to rely on like I do.

I have to admit, she's not like anyone else I've ever met in this preppy college, and life would be pretty lame without her around in all her mysterious glory.

Does that make me sound pathetic?

Looking at her now, I can't exactly pin point what makes her so different to everyone else. She's like a puzzle, except all of the puzzle pieces don't quite fit together and they'll never really seem complete.

I don't know why I'm getting poetic about it. I really should just give up and be realistic for a change. I'm Zayn and she's Evie Mae, the only thing we have in common is art and I'm not even that good compared to the masterpieces that she creates.

"Is it alright if I steal the paint off of you a sec', Zayn?"

I look down at Robin Hale, with her hand on my shoulder and a friendly smile on her face. "Oh, yeah, sure." I say with a nod and reach for the bottle, only to clumsily knock it over with my arm.

The thick red liquid spills all over my work station, also leaking onto my sketch book. "Crap!" I hiss, scrambling to salvage anything that hasn't already been affected by the red puddle. I lift my book by the corners and watch as the paint drips from the pages and onto the table, leaving a bright ketchup coloured stain behind it.

"I'll go get some tissues!" Robin yells, quickly rushing away to the sink.

I groan as I inspect the damage caused. My hands are covered in paint, and I almost look like I've been involved in something gruesome.

"Here." Someone says, handing me a stack of tissues, beating Robin to the punch.

I look up at Evie, grateful yet slightly shell-shocked at the same time. "Uh, thanks." I run a hand and through my hair.

"No problem."

She stares at me bluntly and then glances up and my hair, her lip twitches in a slight smirk but it's disappears as quickly as it came and before I can say another word, she turns around and returns to her desk without so much as a second glance.

When she leaves, a heavy weight is lifted from my shoulders and I let out a heavy sigh. Yet, somehow, my chest still feels tight and my heart thuds against it like a drum.

Evie spoke to me. I think to myself in disbelief. I've been waiting for this moment for months and I definitely screwed it up!

Suddenly, Robin dumps another tower of tissues onto my desk and I'm broken out of my daydream. "Woah, what's that in your hair?" she asks, raising her brow and looking up me with a strange expression.

"Huh?" I look down at my wet red hands and cringe internally. "Oh, damn it..."

Notes

***I'm going to gradually add to this chapter because it's short af.




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