Xavier Thrope, with his blond well kept hair and paint-streaked cheeks. He wore a simple tee, which hung over his frame, his gruff hands subtly flowed over his paper.

You were in his art shed. Xavier knew it was wrong to stare but how could he not? You were the perfect person, his muse.

He glanced up at you every so often. Working diligently to perfect his vision of details.

Maybe he wasn’t so subtle with his approach of drawing you. Because you noticed every single time he would draw you.