An Encounter || Fitchell
“Well,” Ronnie started, before shrugging. “Usually they say ‘Oh you’re good at the art thing’ and then move on with their life.” She admitted, leaning against the wall as he helped himself to her sketchbooks. To say her inspiration got out of hand was an understatement. Growing up in her parent’s house, she always had to suppress the itch to create something. The idea of becoming a professional artist instead of a doctor angered her parents to no end. In their minds it would be an embarrassment; how they’re so successful while their only child is a failure. She nodded as he looked to her to see if it was alright if he could look.
Watching him carefully look from page to page, a small laugh escaped her lips as he rambled, giving her no time to answer in between questions. “I’m not the only artist in Chicago, dumbass. Getting my name out there is easier said than done. But,” She hesitated for a moment. “I guess posting some stuff online would be a good idea.” Her mouth opened to tell him to be careful sitting on the ground, but something told her that he didn’t mind. “How long?” The girl thought for a moment, crossing her arms as she did so. “Well, I always had a knack for it in art class during elementary school. My interest in it just sort of—grew while I was growing up.”
Aiden rose his eyebrow, “That’s it? How is that it?” He pointed to one of the many paintings on the wall, “You can’t just say ‘art thing’ to that! I am not just being biased because I like you, you are seriously good.” He said, picking up a tube of paint, looking at the name color, seeing ‘applesauce’. Aiden internally laughed at the name, suddenly curious about the different paints. His mother bought him a whole art kit for his birthday once, and he ended up just painting on himself. “I think you’re good at everything art, wouldn't be surprised if you drew a line and it’d be beautiful.” He joked, as he proceeded to wipe paint that he had gotten on his hands onto his pants. “I think my pants are ruined.” He pouted, going back to looking through the book.
“Wait, so that means you’ll actually do it?” He beamed, closing the sketch book. He had wanted to do something like this, actually use his photography to help somebody. “I can come over with my camera and some white sheets to make it all nice and neat of course and I can call some of my friends that do all that website graphic shit, oh this will be so cool.” He rambled, looking around, ideas passing through his brain. He didn’t mind how much his excitement showed, he really wanted to help her, she had the talent to be shown and to be admired. Standing up, he walked closer to her as she talked, “And so did your talent.” He joked, “Are you going to school for just art or is it just a minor because you’re getting some boring, life draining major like law. Though.. you’d be good at law, you’re very.. poker faced and your beauty could distract the other lawyers as you smash it and win the case.” He laughed, messing with a brush, letting it run across his palm.