"Having a soulmate is not always about romance,
You can find your soulmate in a friendship too."

C H A P T E R  0 4| Through New Friendship

Being socially awkward had its own perks. You could observe people from a distance. It was surprising how much there was to learn about people just by observing them.

And from what I was observing, I could tell Amelia wasn't very different from me. Of course, she was my polar opposite, but that girl didn't give a damn to rest of the world.

What I expected was for her to go all gaga over him the moment she took her seat. A lot of girls were actually making an effort to have a good look at him. I presumed she'd be no different, if not more desperate.

But she sat quietly without even looking up at him; taking notes when she felt, playing Angry Birds on her phone when she liked, and texting as she pleased.

There was truly a lot to learn about people and their personalities.

I would not lie, I was quite charmed by her rebellious nature. She was everything I had never been—and perhaps what I'd sometimes hoped to become. That confidence, that don't-care attitude, who didn't dream for that?

This whole thing saddened me to some extent, and my keenness to see or talk to the Picasso boy faltered at once. Yesterday I was being a crybaby, and he did what anybody would do. It didn't mean he'd be interested to talk to me today! Or ever, for that matter.

Realizing how stupid I was being from the morning, and just how much embarrassment it would have earned me had I tried to talk to him, I dashed away from Bio as fast as possible.

Strangely, I saw him in AP English too, but I chose a seat far away from him, just to make sure he didn't notice me.

After the class was over, next was lunch. And hence the students were trying to emerge out through the door all at once, congesting the doorway consequently, making movements even slower.

As I was waiting there trying to get out, my shoulders brushed with someone else's.

I turned my head to the right, and my chocolate brown eyes met with very bright bluish-green ones.

And there he was. Picasso.

Recognition lit up in his face in lightening speed, and before I could look away or deny knowing him at all, his full, pink lips curled up into a genuine smile.

"Hey!" He suddenly looked very happy.

I think it was the happiness of finally finding someone you knew in an absolutely new place.

The dark green shirt looked absolutely gorgeous on him. There was something about the way he looked at things, as if unaware of the surroundings, that made him appear a mixture of hot and lost at the same time.

"Hi," I said with a half-smile. Not sure whether he was being straightaway nice, or he was really interested to talk. 

"Let's go to lunch," he dropped casually.

I just nodded in answer, and we headed to the cafeteria together.

I was mostly a loner at lunch table. Peter and Stacey joined me sometimes, but mostly they didn't. As I mentioned earlier, Stacey was a close friend, but so was she to at least eighteen other individuals. Not really a small number to make her particularly interested in sitting with me during lunch.

There were people far more interesting and entertaining than me here, who she'd rather love to join.

Peter joined his football team buddies, and it didn't feel right to beg him to sit with me. I sat with random people, who either took pity on me, or sat on my table simply because it was empty.

"Can I sit with you, or...?" That was the first thing he said when we entered the cafeteria.

"No," I replied shyly. "No one's sitting with me."

I could not believe he had just asked to sit with me! Let another day pass, you'd have so many friends you would even forget who I was.

We took seats opposite to each other. Our eyes hovered over the other one for a while, then we both shifted our gazes some elsewhere to avoid the awkwardness.

We didn't hit it off instantly or anything. We just sat quietly, eating our foods. I realized he too was a quiet person.

After five minutes or so, he looked up, eating his meat sausage rather hungrily. "So, um, are you feeling okay now?"

He asked that question with so much of sincerity, and it felt so strange, that my eyes kind of bulged out of my sockets.

"No, I mean you had been crying pretty bad, so.."

Yesterday's events came rushing to my mind. The Riverwater park, the crybaby that I was being —I got really flustered at the mention.

"No," clearing my throat I said, "It's all good now."

"Do you, maybe, wanna talk about it?" He suddenly asked.

I had to hold the can of soda tightly around my hand to let it not fall. Did he seriously say that?

"No. I'm over it. Well, trying to. My, uh.." I hesitated for a moment. "My ex-boyfriend..he suddenly left town and I was kinda upset over that."

I realized just how weird it was to talk about it aloud. My ex-boyfriend had left town, and I was crying a pond over it. It sounded like the most ridiculous thing I had heard.

"Stupid thing. It's complicated. Leave it." I felt my cheeks warming up in embarrassment.

He gave me an assuring smile, however. "It's okay. I understand. There's nothing stupid about it."

Silence prevailed for some more time. Then he suddenly shook his head and spoke up smiling, as if whatever we had been saying were all wrong.

"You are so much more fun when you are not surrounded by people, you know. Or, I don't know, when you are angry."

My eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

He laughed loudly;  carefree laughs make him look sexier.

"You were being you, I guess. Talking about us not being heroes, introducing yourself as Lady Gaga.." He laughed some more.

That brought a grin on my face. "Ah, yes, Picasso."

"So we're never gonna know each other's names?" He asked playfully, his face held forward in a steady look. His beautiful, shiny eyes sitting evenly apart, right below his thick eyebrows.

Oh God, now I was fretting. Why did his eyes stare at everything so deep? And did I mention his eyes are really gorgeous, like stop-you-in-your-track type?

"Why, dying to know my name, are you, Mr. Picasso?" I remarked teasingly. I didn't want to say that, but it somehow slipped out before I could control.

His brows arched up in surprise for awhile, then they were replaced with a smirk on his lips.

We talked on for a while. And somehow I found it particularly easy to interact with him then other people. I remembered how I used to thrive for a topic to talk on during the early dates of Andrew and I. It was rather strange how easily I was talking to him now.

We were in middle of discussing AP English projects of this year, when a pair of blue eyes, and bleached blonde hair peaked at our table. Definitely Stacey.

I could sense the stunned expression on her face seeing me talk so easily with a guy she didn't know.

She happens to everyone. He was just the latest exception, and maybe, now Amelia too.

She was standing right behind him, so that he couldn't realize someone was there. She mouthed a 'who's this' at me.

Whether it was for the fact that I'd been ignored and underestimated by everyone for so long; or the satisfaction of talking to someone who was getting looks from girls from all the corners, not to mention was hot and absolutely new in school, a superior feeling settled in my chest.

As if nothing had happened, I looked at Stacey and nonchalantly said, "Oh Stace, hey. He's a new friend."

I could see the look of utter surprise in her face. Though I regretted saying it that very moment. Had he ever mentioned we were friends?

I was such a mess.

He looked at me, then turned his head to see who was behind.

"Hello," with pursed lips she greets him, throwing the usual plastic smile she threw while talking to someone she wasn't much acquainted with. I'm Stacey by the way. Elo's best friend."

My mouth gaped open in disbelief. Best friends? Was she flirting with him? But what set me off more was her calling me Elo —that too in front of him!

I was mentally cursing her, when his voice caught my attention.

"I'm Cyan."

He put out his skinny right hand to shake Stacey's already extended one.

He just told her his real name, and shook her hand. And we talked for twenty minutes, still I had no idea if he was a mafia or son of a movie star.

Of course, I must be a pretty boring for him to not be interested in telling me about himself. I shrugged, and talked as less as possible throughout the rest of lunch; within which Stacey already knew the names of his two dead dogs, Jo and Millie.

——

Later that afternoon when I stepped inside the Park, I was half-expecting Picasso, or should I say Cyan, to be there again. But I knew there was a fat chance he wouldn't be.

Imagine my surprise when I actually saw him— sitting on the grass right in front of the river; his legs stretched out casually.

He was within my eyeshot; but his body was bent forward, doing something intently with so much concentration that he might not hear someone calling him from this distance. Which meant, he wouldn't hear me if I called. Not that he'd be interested to talk to me anyway.

Not that I'd time for stupid boys anyway.

I tried not to look at him, but curiosity was such a bad thing. I couldn't restrain myself from getting up from the wooden bench, and tiptoeing towards him as silently possible.

My legs were right behind his back, and he probably hadn't noticed my presence. Keeping my knees straight, I bent forward from my hips. My whole body was in a thirty degree angle now, and I lowered my head to the crook of his neck, keeping a fair distance so he couldn't hear my breath.

And there I saw it; he was painting.

A palette of colours was kept to his right. The art paper was clipped to the drawing board, where he was painting the river.
He held the brush ever so lightly, colouring the little waves of river Islaire.

And it was the most beautiful picture I had ever seen in my life.

****

Hi guys. I hope you are enjoying this book. Let me know, however, how I can improve.

And please do vote, comment, and share if you like it, because I would really appreciate the support.

Next update will be sooner, and love you all <3

P.s. you had the same eyes I remember.