[Spirit of Lust 2] Chapters 568 & 569. (Patreon)

Chapter 568: Sketches.

As I stood there waiting for Fernanda to ask her question or show me whatever she wanted to show me, I saw her stop and freeze, her head down, eyes looking inside her backpack and her fingers turning white from how hard she was gripping the sketchbook.

Fear. Crippling, heart-stopping fear.

Whatever resolve she had conjured went away the moment she actually had to do the thing she wanted to. It wasn’t like I didn’t understand it, having felt that way myself plenty of times, but it was awkward to think I was anyone to get nervous about.

…

“Is that a sketchbook? I think I remember your dad telling me you like to draw,” I said. “He said you were pretty good.”

“...” Fernanda bit her lip and fully brought out her sketchbook from her backpack. “I’m… I’m sorry to be a bother, but… I’ve wanted someone’s opinion for a long time and… You… You make music, so I thought maybe…”

That maybe I’d understand what it means to create art. I think that’s what she had in mind, but she didn’t, or couldn’t, finish her sentence. I felt my own stomach churning with second-hand anxiety. I could totally understand why she’d freeze up.

I sighed and rubbed the back of my neck, maybe trying a bit too hard to seem casual. “Ugh, it’s hard to show anyone what you make, isn’t it? It’s hard to believe them if they tell you it’s good because you think they’re just being nice, but if they say it’s bad it hurts like a knife to the gut.”

Fernanda’s eyes went wide as plates. “Y-Yes, that’s exactly it!”

I chuckled. “Do you mind if I have a look anyway? It’s only fair since you’ve listened to my music, don’t you think?”

Fernanda pursed her lips and offered me her sketchbook. “Y-You don’t need to say anything, but… don’t hold back, okay?”

I took the sketchbook from her and saw the date written on the cover. It was recent, from just a couple of weeks ago. I flipped it to the first page and saw… a page full of straight, vertical lines.

“Hm?”

I flipped the page and saw more vertical lines, Flipped to the next one and saw horizontal lines. In the following pages were diagonal lines, circles, squares, cubes…

“Um…”

“W-What?” Fernanda asked.

“Is this… your practice sketchbook?” I showed her the current page I was seeing and her face went full panic-mode.

“Oh my God! That’s the wrong one!” She covered her face in shame, gasping into her hands.

Now understanding what I was looking at, I continued flipping through it. Pages and pages of monotonous practice. There was nothing ‘creative’ about this, just pure hard work to polish the basics of what is needed to actually ‘create.’ I saw the shifting thickness of the lines, the perfect circles, the unwavering hand that drew it all.

“S-Sorry, sorry, sorry!” Fernanda said, digging into her backpack for the correct sketchbook. “God, how did I even mistake these two!?”

“Hey, these are literally the same sketchbook. Same brand and black cover, even. No wonder you keep them labeled. That’s cool.” I handed her over the practice one and she immediately put it away. “You’re pretty serious about drawing if you’re willing to put all that effort into that kind of practice.”

I think I saw her blushing, but she hid her face by looking down as she handed over the real sketchbook she wanted to show me. This one had a date, too, only this one was from a couple of months ago instead of weeks. I opened it to the first page and couldn’t help but let out a genuine, “Oh, wow,” at what I saw. 

It was a street. A full pencil sketch of a busy street. Cars, tall buildings, shops, utility poles… 

I’m not an expert but I do have a very basic understanding of art. Guess I’ve never told this story, but when I was 16 I tried to learn to draw for all of two weeks before giving up. It was fun to make something that resembled… anything at first, but as I tried to get better I understood the kind of skills I needed to train. I made my choice and decided to continue using that time to practice guitar instead of drawing. Never looked back.

This… This was just a sketch. The lines were a little rough, two or three passing over each other. But everything else… Perspective, composition, detail… It was all high level, I could tell that much.

The next drawing was of a lake in front of grassy hills. Even in pencil it was easy to tell it was water, and the fact I could call those ‘grassy hills’ with a single glance was also telling of the level of skill. The rest of the pages were also of various environments and sceneries. Bird-eye city views, lush forests, dry deserts, post-apocalyptic wastelands… No people, though. Not a single human figure in sight, but considering how thematic the sketchbook was, she probably had yet another one where all she practiced was human shapes.

Now… How to tell her this is good in a way she’ll actually believe me and not think I’m just trying to be nice?

“How did you get the perspective so well? Did you draw from reference?” I asked her.

Her eyes brightened up, and her lips curled into a small, shy smile. “Y-Yes, actually. The street sketches are from different spots around the city. A couple are from my neighborhood and others are from my university. The deserts and forests I looked up online.”

“I like these trees. And the shading is really good, too. Did you do it with a charcoal pencil?”

Fernanda’s eyes widened again. “Y-Yes, actually. D-Do you know how to draw?”

“Nah. They tried to teach us to use charcoal pencils in art class but my drawings always ended up a mess,” I told her with a chuckle. “Which is why I know that using them is pretty difficult. This is all really cool.”

She smiled. It was an honest, genuine smile. “Th-Thank you. Really.”

It was the best I could do. Thankfully I had some knowledge of art, so praising concrete things and asking questions instead of just saying it all looks good was the best way I could show her that, yes, I really did believe there were really good drawings.

“How long have you been drawing for?” I asked her.

“S-Since I was eleven, I think.”

“It shows.” I closed the sketchbook and handed it to her. “I’d like to see more some other time. If that’s okay, I mean.”

“Y-Yes! I… Um…” She cleared her throat, let out a drawn out breath as if she’d been holding it all this time and composed herself. “I mean… I’d be happy to show you more.”

I looked at my van as Fernanda put away her sketchbook and zipped her backpack. I mulled over an idea for a couple of seconds before saying ‘fuck it, let’s ask.’

“Are you going home now?”

“Hm? Ah, yes.”

“Want me to drive you?”

“Eh?”

************

Chapter 569: Driving Fernanda home… and then going back home.

We had finally broken the ice. We had gone beyond the limits of talking about little more than work stuff and Fernanda had finally shared something deeply personal with me. That led us to being able to talk more freely about other stuff with each other.

…

That’s how I thought it was going to go, or at least hoped.

Fernanda accepted my offer to take her home, but the drive was about as silent as the workday had been. It was awkward and almost felt like we had lost whatever progress we had made in that little conversation about her drawings.

I feel the need to remind you that, while I’ve definitely gotten better at it, I’m still an introvert who needs to put conscious effort into making conversation, especially so with people I don’t know well. So after asking her if her parents were doing well and her answering that they were, we both went quiet and didn’t bring up any other topics. Fifteen minutes of silence never felt longer.

We did talk a bit more when we arrived at her house, but again, it was about work.

“Thank you for driving me,” she said meekly from outside the car and through the open door. “Y-You didn’t have to.”

“It’s fine. I just got this van and I’m looking for excuses to drive it around,” I told her with a small chuckle. “Ah, by the way… I won’t be going to work this Friday. Don’t be afraid to ask Maria for help and advice, alright?”

“Ah, it’s fine. Actually, I won’t be going to work on Friday, either.”

Oh? Man, that means Isabelle will be handling things on her own with Maria. On Saturday, too. 

…

Eh, she’ll live. I did.

Didn’t feel right to pry on why she wouldn’t be going to work on Friday. She already seemed hesitant to talk about herself, so I didn’t want to be pushy.

“Alright then. Good luck with anything you have to do. Say hi to Mr. Carlos for me, okay?”

She nodded. “Y-Yes. Again, thank you.”

I raised my hand in a casual goodbye gesture and she closed the door. After that, I left with a short sigh of relief. Don’t know how I would’ve felt if she had thought to offer me to go inside to greet Mr. Carlos.

As I began to make my way back home, I realized more accurately where I was. This was a residential area in a pretty nice part of town. And by nice I mean higher class. Noelle’s and Alice’s houses weren’t too far from here.

I thought about dropping by to see either one of them, but ended up deciding against it for a few reasons. One was that I’d have to actually choose. Seeing one meant not seeing the other, and while I knew neither would get upset about it, I still didn’t like that idea. Another reason was that I was hungry and wanted to get home and eat dinner.

I drove straight home, parked the van and checked for gas. Still good but I’d have to fill it again tomorrow. Considering how much I’d been driving it, it was pretty efficient. I was still feeling pretty giddy at having it. I wasn’t lying to Fernanda when I said I was looking for excuses to drive.

I opened the door to my house, closed it behind me and immediately heard the small, familiar steps of Cake coming to greet me. Although… Were those faster than usual?

Cake came running from the living room and, without warning, jumped into my arms and then climbed all the way to my back. Needless to say I was confused. She had never done something like that before.

“What the hell?”

I understood the why of it soon enough.

Two tiny puppies came running (or more like stumbling) out of the living room, following Cake and letting out tiny, high-pitched barks.

“Oh, no. They’re here…” I muttered in sympathy for Cake.

Isabelle came out following the puppies, laughing with tears in her eyes. “God, you should’ve been here, brother. These two won’t leave her alone. She tries to run away but they follow her everywhere.”

“And she hasn’t tried to go to the second floor?” I asked, awkwardly repositioning my shoulders so as not to let Cake fall. Then again, I should’ve just let her fall.

“She did, but then I took the puppies up there,” Isabelle said with a proud grin.

“And then you ask why Cake doesn’t like you.”

“Screw you. She loves me.”

Cake, still standing on my shoulders, looked down at the two puppies that were now at my feet. She wasn’t hissing at them, at last, so that was a good sign. Isabelle did work on socializing Cake with the pets of her friends.

“So these are the pair of huskies, huh?” Really, they were puppies, seven weeks old now, if I remembered correctly. Just enough to finally leave their mother, if a little early.

“The lady couldn’t keep all the puppies anymore, so we had to take them early,” Isabelle said. “Oliver, meet Mint and Chip! Mint, Chip, this is your uncle Oliver.”

“Aww, you named them already?” I asked, disappointed. “I wanted to help name them, at least…”

“They’re seven weeks old, brother. They had names already. It just so happens that I love their names! Hahaha.”

I looked back at Cake. “They do kind of fit, don't they?”

The two puppies began to bite my shoes. I frowned and pushed them aside as gently as I could. “You better start reading on how to correct this sort of behavior or you’re gonna have a lot of problems in the future.”

“Aw, come on! It’s cute!”

“Sure, sure. Just don’t come crying to me when you have to buy new shoes every two days.”

“Ugh, you’re such a wet blanket!”

“You wanted dogs, Isabelle. Not plushies to stare at and squeeze.”

Still…

I kneeled down and let the two husky puppies smell my hand. Their wet noses poked my hand as they let curiosity win and sniffed me. Cake wasn’t very happy to be closer to them, so she climbed even higher. Meaning she had her front paws on my head now as she screamed at me.

“The one on the left is Mint. She’s a girl. Chip is a boy.”

“Two huskies… You do know what you’re getting into, right?”

Isabelle sighed. “Yes. I’ll… I’ll read up on how to train them. Even if it won’t all stick.”

“I’ll help when I can, but I’ll be going out this weekend, remember?”

“Yeah, going on vacation and leaving your family behind.” Isabelle stuck out her tongue. “I hope you trip and fall.”

“If I do trip and fall I’m leaving dog poop on your bed.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I’m hungry. Is dinner ready?”

“You wouldn’t, right Oliver?”

“Oh, that smells nice. What did you make today?”

“Oliver!”