Love, Anonymous

Chapter Two

First chapter is already gaining likes! 85 likes and 84 comments within the first hour of the story being posted! I am honestly stunned- Silently Falling took months to gain that many likes and comments in any one chapter! 

Keep it up ;)

Chapter Two

I narrowly avoid tripping over my untied shoelaces as I bound up the stairs towards my art class. The clock down the hallway reads 8:01, which means classes don't start for almost a half hour. I grin and walk a little faster towards art because that means I have that entire half hour to myself.

Every morning, or at least as often as I can, I come to school early and stay in the art room. Art is my first block class, and I love getting there early to work on my own pieces without any distractions.

"Reagan!" Mr. Duncan, the art teacher, greets me. He smiles widely at me as I walk through the door, and my lips lift up to mirror his.

Mr. Duncan is by far my favorite teacher. He's young, only 27 years old, yet he's the best teacher I have. That may just be because he lets me in his classroom early in the morning and brings me coffee, but I love this man as if he was my older brother. Since I'm an only child, I don't really know the brotherly feeling, but I'm guessing Mr. Duncan fits the description.

"See if you can guess the flavor today," he says, walking my coffee over to me as I put my stuff down.

"This will be easy." I grin, taking it from him. I lift it to my lips and take a sip, and as soon as the coffee hits my tongue I cringe and thrust it away from me. "Hot!" I exclaim, instantly sticking my tongue out and crossing my eyes in order to inspect any damage that boiling water may have caused.

Mr. Duncan starts laughing and I glare at him, my tongue still hanging out. "That was so not funny."

"I probably should have warned you." He grins, sitting down at his desk.

I plop down in my seat and pout, "Might have been nice."

He chuckles at me and then goes to do whatever work an art teacher has, leaving me to do my own thing. Moving my hand along the bottom of my desk, I find the place where I keep my sketchbook and pull it out. My eyes wander over the worn cover and my hand follows. I open it up and look through all of my drawings- some worth a look and some random scribbles that I obviously didn't spend more than a few minutes on.

"You know Reagan, I think you'll really love this project I'm working on." Mr. Duncan says from his desk.

I lift my head and perk a brow, "How come?"

He grins and sips from his coffee. "Because I just know."

"You know that doesn't give me much of an answer." I grumble.

"You'll find out," he says as he sips his coffee. I go to respond, but something in his book catches his attention and all of his focus goes towards it.

For the rest of my thirty minutes I open my book to the next blank page and start another random drawing. Time gets away from me, and before I know it the page is filled with markings of my pencil. I pause as I hear the bell ring and place my pencil down, taking a look at what I drew.

A rose; with detailed petals, two razor sharp thorns, and one leaf dotted along the stem. I don't even really like flowers all that much, so I'm not entirely sure why I drew that. It may be because of the bouquet of roses sitting in my kitchen, or maybe the picture Chloe showed me she took with this morning's dew glazed over it?