Artist

Strong arms slid under her, one under her back and the other one at her knees, and lifted her towards her room.

Alexander pushed the door open and placed her carefully on the bed.

"So this is how your room looks like." Alexander said as he looked around.

The space was kind of typical for a teenage girl's bedroom except for the bunch of paintings all over the walls, most of them fantasy and mythology themed.

The bedroom was a mini-art gallery with plain white walls to ensure the focus was solely on the art.

It exceeded his expectations of what her room was supposed to look like.

There was a muffled clack of shoes crossing the floor as he wandered through the framed paintings of realistic-looking dragons, Pegasus, Unicorns, that princess locked in a tower with that long-ass hair—Rapunzel was it?

There was also a painting of that Pumpkin coach from the fairy tale Cinderella. She also drew a cute blond baby holding a bow and arrow without any clothes on—that must be Cupid.

Cathryn drew each painting with unique styles, very individualistic.

It was like a different world.

But there was a painting that didn't seem to belong.

Alexander noted Cathryn's painting of a single oak tree in the center of a sacred landscape as its expansive branches reached into the blue sky, mixing with yellow sparks from the lightning bolts in the background, their leaves were evergreen, vibrant and alive. "An oak tree, huh? Why?"

"In many cultures, an oak tree is associated with wisdom, strength and protection, nobility, and endurance." Cathryn discussed in a low, husky voice as she reclined on the bed, she cradled her head with her hands as she stared at him.

"The way you painted it, it looks powerful and majestic."

"One of the many remarkable things about the oak is that from the smallest acorn, a powerful tree of enormous size can spring forth and live for hundreds of years." She replied absentmindedly. "They believed that there was a mystic doorway in the oak tree through which one could travel to inner worlds."

"That's interesting." Alexander told her as he appreciated her work some more.

She explained further. "Whoever may buy this painting of mine, I would like to send them a message is that a person, like an oak tree, can weather and survive anything through bravery and standing strong against all odds."

As soon as the thought occurred to him, he chuckled. "Never knew you could think deep stuff like what you have told me."

Cathryn shifted to her left, facing him more directly. "We never really knew each other enough, Alexander."

"You paint weird random things."

She rolled her eyes at his remark. "I love the variety."

Alexander's eyes gleamed with curiosity, but he nodded. "Like, some painters have certain signature pieces on their art or something. I think it should have a consistent theme of what the artists wanted to draw. There must be a certain style of brushstrokes whether it's watercolor or an oil-based painting."

Cathryn massaged her temples as she sighed. "You talk like you knew a lot about art."

"I think it's also the same in the music industry." He explained, continuing his litany. "You have to stand out from all the other competitors. You have to be unique. You need to have that certain style. Find that particular niche you like to could work on and gather fans and become famous."

"I don't aspire to be famous, Alexander, I just want money honestly," Cathryn said.

'How can you earn if you don't cater to your patrons?" Alexander asked, confused. "Come on, be practical. Your head is in the clouds all the time."

Cathryn was getting annoyed now.

Her brows furrowed. "I have other skills to earn money aside from painting, though."

"What?" He kept his gaze on my face as he arched an eyebrow. "Finding potential sugar daddies that would pay tuition in exchange for nudes?"

No damn way!

Alexander was testing her patience even if she wasn't feeling well.

This guy had no filter sometimes.

It was very insulting.

She glared at him with an arrogant tilt of her chin. "I know that was supposed to be a joke but if I didn't have a headache I would have bitch slapped you across the country."

His lips widened into a full-fledged grin as he faced him, "Then you aim to attract an elite clientele?"

"You already are a member of a teenage rock band in this country. You had a lot of money it's easy for you to throw ten thousand dollars at me." Cathryn muttered, her tone heavy with sarcasm. "You want to be my sugar daddy then?"

"How much?" Alexander said, smiling like he was about to do her a huge favor.

"I was joking, Alexander." Cathryn's face twisted in a wince, her full lips pursing in feigned pain. "Anyway, painting is hard work is what I was trying to tell you."

"Everything worthwhile in this world needs hard work."

"But you need that stroke of luck to make it big."

"Still, luck equals hard work and opportunity."

"Anyway, I don't need your opinion, Alexander." The words rushed from her, ripe with displeasure and confusion. "I create what I want."

Alexander straightened then shrugged. "Suit yourself. I am not forcing you."

Alexander stopped at each display but there were other canvas covered with a tarpaulin at the corner of the room and he wanted to go over to see what was hidden.

He removed the white cloth and he inhaled sharply as soon as he saw it.

"How much is this painting?"

"Oh, that's me and that's not for sale."

It was a painting of a Celtic fairy goddess with her facial features on it and a crescent moon tattoed on her forehead. Pink roses adorned her red hair as she stood at the center of a flower garden.

Gardenia blooms were ready to unfurl, leaves were sprouting, the birds were hopping about as the affectionate winds caressed her body. The Celtic Goddess who had Cathryn's face twirled around happily.

Cathryn shook her head. "I would find it fucked up to see a painting of me displayed in your room."

He grinned appreciatively. "You're pretty here."

"Thanks." Cathryn's voice was tight as she blushed, embarrassed by his compliments.

"What's this behind—"Alexander pulled the goddess –inspired painting of her to see what's behind them, removing the white cloth covering it to reveal another work of art.

"Alex, no," Cathryn called him loudly but it was too late.

Alexander had seen the unfinished drawing.

It was him.