“What class have you got right now?” she asked, about to pull her hand away but his fingers tightened around hers, as if he’d seen what she was about to do.
“Nothing. You?”
She grinned. “I’ve got a spare too, actually.”
“That’s one coincidence I won’t complain about.” He smiled back.
“Do you believe in coincidences, though?” Carmen asked, knitting her brows together as she resumed walking towards the art room, pulling Asa along with her.
“Well,” he paused, as if giving it some actual thought for the first time in his life, “I don’t really know. I’ve never thought about it that way, I guess. But it is what it is, right? Coincidences are just that: coincidences.”
“I guess so,” Carmen mumbled, feeling a little stupid. Why was she always trying to look at the bigger picture? Why was she always on a mission to look past the surface and dig deep inside as if there was more to what meets the eye?
“Why?” Asa asked then, startling her. “What do you believe of coincidences?”
She quickly shook her head. “It’s noth—”
“—Not nothing,” he cut her off, looking down at her through the corner of his eyes, and that sideways glance made her heart flutter for some reason. It was such a normal gesture but something about the way his eyes burned when it fell on her seemed to heat up her insides, too.
“Okay.” she smiled softly. “Okay.” She stepped a little closer to him, her shoulder brushing against his arm, and the proximity made her pull in her bottom lip to bite down on the grin that threatened to explode across her face. “Um, it’s just that, I kind of believe in a higher power, you know? Like, there’s a reason everything happens. Every leaf that falls, every scrape of the knee, every chance encounter even if it’s just a Tuesday afternoon and its someone who you’ve spilt your coffee on and you’ll never see ever again, I just feel like there’s some reasoning behind it. Something bigger that the naked eyes don’t see.”
“I can relate with that,” he murmured. “Except for me it wasn’t a Tuesday morning or spilt coffee but a chilly autumn afternoon and an art journal.” He grinned down at her. “I’m kind of hoping I do get to see her though, rather than never crossing paths with her ever again. That’d be tragic.”
Oh, Asa. She wanted to lean in a little closer, much closer, and bury her face in the crook of his neck and never let go.
“We would have still crossed paths, Asa,” she told him as they entered the art room, dropping her bag on the floor as if this was her second home. Spotting the easel in its usual place at the corner of the class, she dragged it out towards the centre where it had the perfect lighting and flipped the page of the large drawing book hooked onto it to a new, fresh sheet.
She heard the sound of something being dragged along the floor and looked over her shoulder to see Asa pull one of the stools towards her until it hit the back of her thighs. His hands took a gentle hold of her shoulders, pushing her down onto the seat. He then proceeded to bring the table with all the paint supplies closer to her so that she’d have everything within hand’s reach.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, touched at the kind gesture.
“Don’t mention it,” he replied somewhat uneasily, rubbing the back of his neck.
“You’re always fidgeting when I compliment you on something,” she said out loud, squinting at him and pursing her lips in deep thought.
He stopped rubbing the back of his head, and his eyes met hers, emotions flashing through them in volumes that seemed even way out of Carmen’s depth.
“You…” he said and seemed to hesitate, clenching and unclenching his fists, before he closed his eyes for a few seconds and reopened them. “I’m used to getting compliments on how good of a swimmer I am, or how I have nice cheekbones and an even nicer body.” He slipped his hands into his pockets and seated himself on the edge of the supply table, his feet still hitting the floor due to his tall frame. “But whenever you say something nice, it’s always on something that no one else bats an eye to. On the parts of me that is deemed irrelevant.”
Carmen pressed her lips together even tighter, her brows furrowing harder as she observed him. It was a while before she responded. “You know Asa,” she said thoughtfully. “Maybe if more people paid attention to the inside rather than the outside, this world would be a happier place.”
“Basically, we just need a few more Carmens,” he said nonchalantly, twirling a paintbrush he’d picked up from the table in his hands as if he didn’t just utter words that struck a long-lost chord in her; as if he didn’t just make her heart soar even though she was convinced she’d been stripped off her wings the second she was born; as if he didn’t just imply the thought her perspective of beauty and this world mattered and was of significance.
Did Asa even know there was a museum in Carmen’s head with walls that were painted in shades of brown and gold with his name embedded in the frames of each masterpiece he inspired her to create?
Maybe if she told him that, he might not let everyone else’s words into his heart and let them colour him with shades of hate and cruelty.
“Hey, Asa?” she spoke just as she averted her gaze and picked up a brush herself, hovering her hand over the palette of colours on her left.
“Yeah?”
She pursed her lips and dipped the brush into the darkest shade of blue her eyes landed
