Running as if we are chased by dogs, heavy pants resound beside me. It matches the rapid beating of my heart after racing back from the dorm to the Renoir Building.

"I swear to god, Maize, if the teacher is here and marks me late, you'll owe me lunch the whole week," I say while smoothening my dress right at the doorway of the drawing studio.

For all the times I have decided to wear a dress, it is this day when we're running late. Thankfully, I paired it with oversized chequered long sleeves that I have tied to my waist before we started our little marathon.

I loosen the long sleeves as we enter and wear them over the cream-colored shift dress. The hem falls between the trim of the skirt at the top of the white thigh socks. Good thing I have prepared chunky ankle boots for my outfit today or else, Maize will not just receive a simple glare from me. Also, lucky for her, the teacher is not here yet.

The drawing studio has scattered large tables with four to five seats each. The only empty spots are the front rows so we have no choice but to choose one of them.

"Let's go there. But remember, if I'm picked to recite later, you have to treat me to lunch, got it?" I say, pronouncing my words with emphasis to let her know how I dislike our seating arrangement.

I'm not dumb but I'm not the smartest, either. Average, so to say, with a deep hatred for recitation as much as I hate veggies. I just blank out most of the time. And what if I embarrass myself with the wrong answer?

"C'mon, girl. Imagine if I have not finished watching the whole series today, I won't be able to concentrate in class. And if I don't concentrate, I might fail, right? So this is just me doing a favor for myself and my parents," she says and drags a chair.

I wince at her reasoning and realize I won't win an argument with her. "Fine. Just fix your hair."

"Huh? Why?" She stares at me wide-eyed as if I am asking her to do the most difficult thing in the world.

"It's not a messy bun anymore, it's only a complete mess," I reply, giving her an eye-roll.

"Oh, Remy, why are you so picky? Wait, that actually rhymes!" She grins and sits down, sliding her hands into the pocket of her hoodie. "Don't mind it. My hair won't bite."

I let out a sigh and grab a seat. "Whatever. But don't forget the deal, okay?"

"Okay, okay."

We settle down just when the door slides open. But, it's not the teacher. Two guys enter the room.

One appears smiling but always has an untouchable aura around him and another blonde with sparkling blue eyes as he talks so enthusiastically.

The latter's eyes dart to us and I quickly avoided my gaze.

'Ignore, ignore, ignore.'

"Remy! Long time no see!"

But of course, he doesn't. After all, Sid has always been the friendliest person I know. If Terrence gathers people because of his looks and talents regardless of his hot and cold personality, Sid Horton is a ball of sunshine that absorbs all the extrovert energy in his body.

"Uh hi? It's been a while," I answer.

"Terrence did not mention we'll be classmates. Haven't heard from you for a long while. I really thought you'll visit me in high school but only Terrence came," he says and simply sits opposite me without asking. "I thought we were friends."

He's obviously bugging my conscience but how can I stay friends with him when he had been friends with Terrence way before me?

"I didn't know you'll pursue painting," I say, instead.

"Not painting. I'm taking a major in Ceramics."

"What?" I can't conceal my gaping mouth. That's even more shocking than him being a fine arts student.

Sid chuckles. "I know it sounds impossible but I got interested when I moved. But anyway, I'm glad to be back and it's even a bonus that I'm classmates with you and Terrence. Isn't it just like before?" He turns to the man who's been silent the whole while. "Bro, why are you still standing? Sit down."

Terrence takes a glance at me as if wanting permission. At this point, how can I even reject when Sid is already comfortable in his seat? So, I nod. It's not like we have to talk anyway. Sid has always had a lot of stories to tell and Maize is a chatterbox. That fact reassures me right away.

"Oh, by the way, this is my dormmate, Maize Campbell." But to my utter cringe, this girl is staring at Sid googly-eyed all along.

I admit I like handsome men, I mean, who doesn't? But I can vouch Maize is the worst version of me when her reactions are always obvious on her face. I pinch the side of her waist.

"Oh, ah, Maize Campbell." She reaches out her hand and Sid accepts it.

"Sid Horton. Nice to meet you."

I can already imagine her swooning. Sid has the typical golden boy look like those teen romcoms which I'm sure is why Maize has a dazed look. I'm betting he might just be her type.

And just as I expected, Maize and Sid hit right off the bat and manage the noise at our table until the professor arrived.

After a little introduction, a small activity begins. It's just a sketch of our favorite artwork with a description at the bottom. Pretty easy if only someone can shut up.

"Look, your lines are a bit crooked here. The shading is also a little off," Terrence points out, but of course, I ignore him.

I continue to draw the lines of the figures in my paper, adding more detail to the woman in the center. 'The Birth of a Venus' might be a complicated piece to choose for a two-hour class but I just love how it's composed and painted.

"Look, your hair is drawn roughly. Try to lessen the pressure on your fingers. It's good you accentuated the woman's body but the hair is grabbing too much attention with how dark it is."

I slam the pencil, squinting my eyes. I feel Maize and Sid's gazes toward us but I don't care. I haven't signed up for someone to critique my work. It's not like I needed his help so why is he nitpicking me?

With annoyance fueling my body, I speak, "Can you stop? Don't you have your own work to do?"

"I'm already done," he replies, almost nonchalantly.

My eyes travel to his paper and he really is done. It's 'The Kiss' by Klimt and in just a short time he manages to finish it. The pattern that drapes the couple is almost precisely drawn like the original. It's one of the complicated pieces with all the details, and I don't know what kind of sorcery he used but he completed it within an hour or so.

'Is this really the gap between geniuses to the ordinary ones?'

"Woah, man. I know you're already amazing but I'm still astounded," Sid comments and picks up the paper. "Why don't you help me? I have no confidence in my drawing skills, to be honest."

A moment of silence passes at our table before Terrence agrees. 'Finally, some peace and quiet.'

🎨 🎨 🎨

It already feels like a lot has happened today with all those activities in all my classes. I already put the little episode with Terrence at the back of my mind after having the highlight of my day.

I can't believe I'm classmates with only Uriel. It's our last subject today but Maize has a different professor while there's no Terrence in sight.

'Maybe is this a sign?'

"Remy?" Uriel calls and since the professor is still talking, he has to lean on my side.

My hands turn clammy as I try to calm myself with his proximity. "What?"

"Do you have time later?"

"Yes, probably," here comes my automatic reply.

"Want to go to the Atelier? After thinking about it, I think I'd go with another work to fit the theme."

"Really? But yesterday's already amazing."

It's not a lie. Though it's only a shaded sketch, the work he has shown yesterday totally fits the theme of childhood. It depicts a swing in a forest distorted by the polygonal lines that he used. The idea might be simple but it's fascinating to see how he implemented his own style.

"I think I want to go with more of a symbolism. I'll tell you more about it later. The prof seems to be glancing towards us," he says and I quickly straighten my back.

Dang. This is why it's difficult to have a crush on a classmate. They're way too distracting.

"Okay, later then," I reply hoping that the class will be over in a flash.

🎨 🎨 🎨

After enduring the four-hour class, the school's finally done. I messaged Maize that I'll be back later and followed Uriel to the Atelier Building.

We enter his studio, which made me realize yesterday that it has the same interior as Terrence and only the furniture varies. Uriel gestures for me to come forward after turning the easel in my direction.

"Here's the rough sketch. It's shitty right now but I need opinions." There's a sliver of nervousness in his tone but I feel like I'm scammed.

'What rough sketch?' This can easily pass off as a refined drawing with all the defined lines and smudged shadows.

"The main idea is having a butterfly trapped in a jar and the other one, flying outside. I put a crack in the glass to symbolize childhood memories. Sometimes, childhood friends can drift apart but maybe, for the other person, it's precious memory so it remained trapped despite having an open hole and only watching the other one fly freely."

As he explains, the more the smile on my lips fades.

"What do you think? Is it too cheesy?" he probes.

I remain quite like I'm observing his work but, to be frank, what should I say? That his concept is so close to home? That maybe I'm like the trapped butterfly that holds on to some memory but the other one didn't seem to care about the past at all. That is, if I'm honest with my feelings, I know I'm all bitter just because of this.

"... It's good."

And, that's all I manage to say.

"Thanks. I'll try to paint the base tomorrow. I'll show you when it's done next time."

"Sure... I look forward to it. When's the deadline again?"

"At the end of the month but I want to finish it earlier since the third year is a tough year for business majors in my other university."

My brows wrinkle with concern. "Oh, I'm sorry for pushing you to this contest. It must be hard taking two degrees in different universities."

"No need to say sorry. You just showed it to me and did not force anything. Besides, this will really help my portfolio," he assures me with a gentle smile but I have not expected the slight tap on my shoulder.

The heat from the contact quickly travels to my cheeks. "Uh, if you say so. But when you need help, don't forget to ask me, okay?"

His lips arc deeper. "Thanks. Also as a return for letting me know about the contest, feel free to use my studio for foundation class if you and your buddy have a hard time renting one on the EFH."

My eyes widen the more he speaks. Have I found the perfect reason to get away from Terrence?

I try to stop the corner of my lips from tugging as I make eye contact with him. "I'll take you up on that."