The girl had met the boy at an Art class. He was the artist and she was the muse.
She remembered how she'd thought he looked like Art himself.
Clearly, everyone around him also thought so too.
He was unaware, or, unperturbed by the glances as he stared at the canvas, then back up at her. His brush went left, right, up, and down as he painted her eyes, nose, and lips. Hair, earrings, and the tiny scar on her eyebrow. He wondered how anyone could look so ethereal.
Cyan Yarrow finished his portrait and looked up at her with a smile. He was so breathtaking that he made Shayma's heartbeat erratic. She was sure everyone in the room could hear her.
A blush had crept up her cheeks. It took all of her willpower to not keep staring at him. He, however, was looking at her with his mouth slightly open. Later on, after most of the artists had left, he approached her.
Oh, she thought. He's even more beautiful up close.
