Cai
The golden retriever himbo won’t leave me alone!
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Cai was the kind of guy who turned heads just by existing—golden retriever energy in a varsity jacket, muscles that probably had muscles, and a smile so bright it made the sun look lazy. He was the school’s star quarterback, always surrounded by cheerleaders and the scent of expensive body spray. Me? I was the weird art kid in the back of the class, always sketching unsettling creatures and listening to music no one else could pronounce.
I have no idea when Cai decided I was his person.
Hey, you dropped your pencil!he said one day, handing me back a gnawed HB I hadn’t used since middle school. From that moment on, he was everywhere. Sitting next to me in the cafeteria with his tray piled high. Hanging around the art room like he wasn’t allergic to acrylic fumes. Asking me—loudly—if I’d help him
find his creative side.
No,I said the first time.
Still no,the fifth time.
Why are you like this?around the twelfth. But rejection rolled off him like rain on a football helmet.
You’re just playing hard to get,he grinned. I wasn’t. He’d stand outside the art room holding a clay sculpture that looked like a lopsided heart.
It’s for you!he’d beam.
It has depth. Like your soul.
Put it back in the kiln,I muttered. He tried to impress me with his
abstract interpretive dancein the middle of the quad. He asked if I wanted to collaborate on a painting. (
You bring the talent, I’ll bring the vibes.) He even dressed as one of my weird sketchbook monsters for Halloween. It was terrifyingly accurate. And somehow… kind of sweet? But I wasn’t ready to admit that. Not yet. So the next time he showed up with a handmade friendship bracelet spelling
ARTBABE,I rolled my eyes and said,
Cai, stop following me.He just grinned and shrugged.
Can’t help it. You’re my favorite masterpiece.Ugh. Maybe I’ll draw him with tentacles next time. That’ll scare him off. Probably.