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Vi is having a bad day. In fact, the day has been so bad that to call it "bad" is such a terrible understatement. Vi has not only had a "bad" day, but rather a give-up-on-everything-and-retreat-back-to-your-bed kind of day. Except, that’s not necessarily an option.
It all started when she woke up, or, more specifically, forgot to. Apparently, one sleeps rather deeply when they've stayed up doing a last-minute project until 5 am, but that's beside the point. This inability to allocate enough time to finish a very important project then manifested itself into Vi missing her first class of the day and, consequently, only having 10 minutes to get ready for her 10 am critique that was most definitely not on a project that she finished while she was half-asleep.
It's safe to say that the critique did not go well.
Perhaps it would have been better if Vi was not on the brink of passing out every time she blinked, or if her obviously burnt-out classmates were actually willing to talk to one another rather than just standing in awkward silence the entire time (but maybe that was to be expected). By the end of the egregious two hours, vi was ready to go back to her dorm and sleep the day away—which would have been a great proposition had she not forgotten about the live drawing session she had promised her professor she would attend (apparently Vi's depiction of the human figure needs some special attention, though she strongly disagrees).
Nevertheless, after a nauseating deli sandwich from her school’s less-than-desirable cafeteria and a sleepy ride home on a bus packed so full that Vi could have sworn she could smell the breath of everyone standing within a 6-foot radius of her, Vi finally made it back to her dorm. In an attempt to psych herself up for the drawing session she would embark upon in five hours, she decided to sit at her desk and practice her figure-drawing capabilities. Unfortunately, only one drawing into the practice, Vi felt her head begin to lull and she found herself resting her left cheek against the cool wooden desk.
…
She awoke, wide awake, at 7:30pm.
“Shit!” Upon checking her phone, Vi flew out of her chair, scrambling to gather her supplies in an easily-transportable manner before dashing out the door, a smudge of graphite resting upon her cheek (it wasn’t until much later, when she was washing her face before bed, that Vi noticed the black smudge upon her pale skin).
When she finally arrived at room 211 in the art hall, she was about twenty minutes late. Although the room seemed generally unperturbed by her newfound presence, one being in it seemed particularly disgusted by her tardiness. That being, third year Caitlyn Kiramman, was glaring boldly in Vi’s direction from where she stood posed at the center of the room. Vi couldn’t help the shiver that ran down her spine at the prospect of having so much of the other girl’s disgust directed at her.
The thing is, this wouldn’t be the first time that Vi has royally pissed off Caitlyn Kiramman; in fact, the two haven’t been able to get along since Freshman year, when Vi accidentally stole Caitlyn’s study-spot during finals week, and, upon seeing how angry it made Caitlyn., continued to use that study spot for the entirety of Sophomore year just to piss her off; however, that isn’t to say that the ill-feelings are one-sided, for Caitlyn has seemingly developed a habit of facing away from Vi during each of the live drawing sessions she models. Well, at least she had a habit of doing that. Vi can’t seem to decide whether she prefers the cold shoulder or the icy glare from Caitlyn more.
Regardless of the glare, Vi could not chase away that thought that Caitlyn looked beautiful. Of course, she had noticed this aspect of the other girl before, but there was something vaguely striking about the fact that Caitlyn looked nervous sitting in the center of the studio. She never looked nervous, not that Vi had paid too much attention to how Caitlyn carries herself daily (though even that statement in of itself feels untruthful). It’s just that, Vi has seen Caitlyn before, she’s seen the way that the girl walks with a posture so erect that it rivals that of a No.2 pencil, and she’s witnessed the nimble way with which Caitlyn types of her laptop; yet underneath all of her precision and perfection, Vi knows Caitlyn fears the attention. That, perhaps, Caitlyn knows that there are aspects of herself that could be justly scrutinized, and she fears that the people in the room will see them. Vi has half a mind to respect the cracks in the other girl’s armor.
Pulling herself out of her head, Vi remembers the task at hand: draw Caitlyn Kiramman (and preferably forget that it's Caitlyn Kiramman in the process). Most pertinently, Vi needed this session to go well, so she began her sketches with a manner of efficiency unbeknownst to even her. Her thick, calloused fingers gripped her graphite pencils in a tense fashion, her hands trembling slightly as she applied the medium to each page. After all, Vi had a passion for the art that she made, and she was not going to let Caitlyn scare her out of creating some quality sketches. With each strike Vi applied to her sketchpad, she felt the stress of the day and the tiredness in her eyes wilt away from her body, the effects of good mark-making capturing her entire being. Vi was so engrossed by her work, in fact, that she lost complete track of time and failed to realize that the session was over. The stress of capturing the disgust in Caitlyn’s eyes, alongside the fact that her phone’s volume was too high for Vi to hear the rustling of pencil tins and the folding of papers over her music, prevented her from catching the obvious cues that the session was over for the night. After all, Vi had one goal in mind: to draw a damn good rendition of Caitlyn Kiramman, and that meant she could not spare a glance at anything other than the girl in front of her. She wasn’t sure why she was so focused on nailing the other girl’s features, for it felt too obsessive to simply be the product of resentment, but Vi chose to ignore the way her eyes scanned over Caitlyn’s features in a way akin to a lion sizing up its prey.
Once she had finished her sixth sketch, Vi gently placed her pencil back into the tin seated in her lap, and flexed her hands, grimacing at the way they ached from yesterday’s boxing practice. It was very rare that Vi pushed herself farther than her–very familiar–limit, but the bandages now hugging her fingers were a necessity after her brutal practice.
When she noticed that Caitlyn had begun to remove herself from her pose and stretch her limbs in a way that was not nearly graceful enough to be considered professional, Vi looked over the sketches. She had done about three pages worth of figure drawings from the various poses that Caitlyn performed. Some are better than others. Some worse. But all in all, good enough to show her professor on Monday. Vi was so engrossed by looking at her sketches–and memorizing all the details of Caitlyn’s features that she had fixated on for the past hour–that she failed to notice how empty the room was. Her music was still blaring through her jet-black headphones, and it had felt like it was only her and Caitlyn in the room the entire time anyways. Besides, why would she have needed to pay attention to the other people in the room when there was only one person she was required to look at? Lost in her thoughts, Vi didn’t notice Caitlyn’s disappearance from the middle of the room until a perfectly-manicured fingernail poked into the flesh of her left shoulder, sending electricity down her spine in a sensation that could only be described as panic.
Vi whips her head up, bright pink strands flailing about her face at the sudden touch against her shoulder. She curses her flightiness for allowing the package of graphite pencils she had so neatly placed into the tin to fall upon the floor.
"Excuse me?" Vi can't help but grimace at the bittiness of her tone, wincing when she realizes who exactly she has snapped at. She promptly rips her headphones off and launches herself out of her chair to stand at attention.
"Are you really listening to my favorite song right now?" The words come out slow, and Vi can't help the faint feeling of displeasure that creeps into her bones upon the taller girl's tone.
"First, you glare at me for an hour straight, and then you creepily track my listening habits...I must say that this is a weird streak, even for you Cupcake." Vi's words are grating, and she knows it too, but Caitlyn appears almost unaffected.
“Actually, I could have only glared at you for forty minutes straight—if you would like to humor yourself by believing you're the object of my constant attention—because, in case you forgot, you were actually twenty minutes late to today's session." Caitlyn delivers her words without a pause, yet the redness brushing over her cheeks lays newly distinct upon her pale features. "And, by the way, I knew what song you were listening to because you listened to your music so damn loud that you couldn't even tell half the room was vacant by the time you started packing up."
Vi opens her mouth to respond to Caitlyn's tirade, but her jaw falls slack when she watches Caitlyn dip her body to the floor, her shirt tugging loosely around her chest. It takes Vi a moment to gather her composure enough to focus her attention away from the girl in front of her to the pencils still lying abandoned on the concrete flooring.
"Hey. No-you don't need to do that." Vi darts to the floor, bending over to scoop as many pencils as she can into her space, and entangling them within her fingers in intricate motions to avoid making too many trips from floor to tin. When she returns her hand to the floor to pick up more pencils, she finds herself grasping onto something unexpectedly warm. Something fleshy. Realization dawns upon Vi's features as she moves her eyes to the placement of her hands. The image before her—her hand clasping onto one of Caitlyn's—almost causes her to choke up before she realizes-
"You stayed after the time slot and posed for me?" If Caitlyn didn't look embarrassed before, her beet-red face gives her away now.
"I-I have no clue what you're talking about." Vi would find Caitlyn's stuttering in this moment cute if she wasn't so excited at the prospect of finally getting the girl to drop her composure.
Vi tugs at Caitlyn's hand, drawing the girl’s wrist closer to her to read the clock-face gripping her arm with its silver chain.
9:12 pm
"The session ended at 8:30," Vi looked about the room, realizing for the first time how much it lacked the presence of noise and movement, "did you continue to pose just for me?" Caitlyn averts her eyes, and Vi has half the decency to drop her hand and scoot herself away.
"I-um. I just. I like seeing you draw me." Caitlyn bit her lip, teeth sinking into soft skin. It was new. Seeing Cait like this. The girl who never lost her composure, the girl whose head never bent down, now sitting nervously in front of Vi. The newfound vulnerability thrilled her, but it was hard for Vi not to feel slightly ashamed for causing such a reaction. "I wasn't glaring at you, y'know... I just like seeing you work. You study me, really truly pay attention to detail... It's inspiring to see you work. I’m disappointed I never thought to look over at you before."
"Wow, Cupcake, I didn't know you thought so highly of me," Vi stands up, the last of the pencils packed away safely in their tin, and stretches a hand towards Caitlyn, flexing her fingers invitingly.
"Oh, don't flatter yourself. One should not ignore talent... and I'm just...appreciating the artistry." Caitlyn grasps Vi's hand, hoisting herself up. She leans in close, so much so that Vi can smell her perfume. "Oh! And don’t call me Cupcake.”
Vi releases a brief laugh, feeling pinpricks of nervousness shroud her face at the prospect of being so close to Caitlyn. When Caitlyn finally moves away, it’s so she can flick the light-switch in the studio, clutching the key to the room in her left hand. She motions for Vi to leave with a slight nod towards the door, and the two exit the room, Vi waiting patiently for Caitlyn to lock the door. Vi finds herself following the soft movements of Caitlyn's fingers, pretending like the quick flicks of her wrist don't overwhelm Vi is the best ways imaginable. Vi looks away before her thoughts become even more embarrassing, reminding herself that it's too soon to think those things of a girl whose only just started being amicable with her. Once the door is locked and Caitlyn turns back to her, Vi shoulders her messenger bag and begins walking away, stopping in her tracks when she thinks of one final thing to say.
"How long was I drawing you for then-?"
"An hour and twenty minutes," Caitlyn answers the question with a tone that suggests she’s quite proud of herself, and Vi must fight the heat that crawls up her neck and the implications that Caitlyn had stayed an extra half an hour to allow Vi to draw her. Before Vi gets a chance to say anything in response, Caitlyn promptly turns and walks down the dimly lit hall.
Vi just watches her, a stupid grin plastered on her face.
Maybe it wasn’t that bad of a day.