D is for Disappointed
Characters: Adam Rove and Layla Harrison
Rating: PG
Genre: Het
Summary: Adam is disappointed that his painting wasn't accepted into a high profile exhibition
Character Age: 20
Joaniverse: Butterflies
Author's Note: Thanks to Anne for the prompt idea and thanks to Deb for giving Layla a last name
The building was positively intimidating, to say the least. The backyard was a perfectly arranged stone garden, illuminated by yellow lights that shone into the spacious room through the huge windows. The interior was a finely tuned composition of light brown woods and black and white straight lines. Patches of grassy green carpeting gave it an eerie natural feel, almost like when you left through the main door, you would walk into a luscious, green clearing instead of the busy streets of Providence.
Adam once more realized how out of place he felt in this room. The Grand Hall hosted one of the most high-profile art exhibitions in the area, and once a year they accepted entry submissions from RISD students. This year, he had felt ready to apply.
He stopped in front of the next painting, mounted on the wall with a tag next to it that looked like it was etched into glass. Classy, like the whole exhibition, the whole building.
'So this is it,' he thought to himself. Each student could submit only one piece of artwork, and they had to pick one of the themes that were listed. Adam had gone for the one called "Texture". That's what it read on the glass tag he was looking at.
Taking in the five by seven foot painting, he could now see why his own painting had been rejected. He couldn't deny the small pang of disappointment he felt in his stomach, but it vanished quickly when he let his eyes wander over the canvas on the wall.
It wasn't just a painting, the oil paint had been applied so thickly in so many layers, that it lifted off the canvas in peaks and ridges. Light brown and gray pebbles had been used to accentuate the effect. Specks of green lit up the dominant beiges and Adam took a few steps back to survey the painting from a distance.
It was then that the single components coalesced and assembled into a whole. It was a sand dune, flecked with pointy marram grass. The artist had used thin, pointed, green paper strips to bring out the grass texture. This was amazing!
He took another step back and-
"Whoa, careful."
He turned around and looked into the face of a young woman around his own age. What struck him most wasn't her light blue eyes but her less than shoulder length hair that stuck out at all angles. It looked cute on her, as did the plain, maroon dress she was wearing that matched her hair color almost exactly.
"I'm sorry," Adam muttered.
She gave him an amused smile. "You were all awed by the painting. I admire a man who can get lost in a painting."
He felt himself blushing. Was she flirting with him? "Yeah, I... I really like it. It's so... powerful."
She looked down, then up at him again and her smile turned warm and honest. "Well, thank you."
He had to try hard not to gape. "Whoa. You made it?"
She nodded. "Yeah. I'm amazed it got in. The competition must have been fierce."
"Oh yeah, they already call it an accomplishment if you make the short-list for a theme."
She pointed a finger at him. "Let me guess, Rizde student."
He laughed. "Busted!"
"Did you submit as well?"
"Yeah."
"What theme?"
He cautiously raised his eyebrows. "Texture."
She looked truly apologetic. "Oh no, I didn't mean to put salt in the wound. I'm really sorry."
He gave her a smile. "Don't be. Your painting is so much more awesome than mine. I'm glad they chose it, it deserves to be seen, here, in this place."
Now it was her turn to blush. "Thank you, that's... I don't know what to say."
Their eyes met and for a second the air between them got a little uncomfortable. She quickly interrupted the awkward moment. "So, what's your name?"
"Adam. Yours?"
"Layla."
"Nice to meet you, Layla."
The smile found its way back to her lips at the strangely formal stock phrase. "Have you seen the rest of the exhibition?"
"I haven't been to the first floor yet."
"Hey, me neither," she said. "Mind if I join you?"
Adam felt a little taken by surprise, but then thought, why not? "No, actually I don't."
"Cool." She linked her arm with his and energetically bounced toward the stairs.
'Whoa!' he thought. Talk about initiative. He couldn't even remember the last time he had flirted with anybody. But maybe that was just what he needed tonight, to be swept away by a sweet and lovely woman.
He didn't know where it came from, but the chorus of an Eric Clapton song suddenly swirled around in his head.
Layla, darling, won't you ease my worried mind...
Rating: PG
Genre: Het
Summary: Adam is disappointed that his painting wasn't accepted into a high profile exhibition
Character Age: 20
Joaniverse: Butterflies
Author's Note: Thanks to Anne for the prompt idea and thanks to Deb for giving Layla a last name
The building was positively intimidating, to say the least. The backyard was a perfectly arranged stone garden, illuminated by yellow lights that shone into the spacious room through the huge windows. The interior was a finely tuned composition of light brown woods and black and white straight lines. Patches of grassy green carpeting gave it an eerie natural feel, almost like when you left through the main door, you would walk into a luscious, green clearing instead of the busy streets of Providence.
Adam once more realized how out of place he felt in this room. The Grand Hall hosted one of the most high-profile art exhibitions in the area, and once a year they accepted entry submissions from RISD students. This year, he had felt ready to apply.
He stopped in front of the next painting, mounted on the wall with a tag next to it that looked like it was etched into glass. Classy, like the whole exhibition, the whole building.
'So this is it,' he thought to himself. Each student could submit only one piece of artwork, and they had to pick one of the themes that were listed. Adam had gone for the one called "Texture". That's what it read on the glass tag he was looking at.
Taking in the five by seven foot painting, he could now see why his own painting had been rejected. He couldn't deny the small pang of disappointment he felt in his stomach, but it vanished quickly when he let his eyes wander over the canvas on the wall.
It wasn't just a painting, the oil paint had been applied so thickly in so many layers, that it lifted off the canvas in peaks and ridges. Light brown and gray pebbles had been used to accentuate the effect. Specks of green lit up the dominant beiges and Adam took a few steps back to survey the painting from a distance.
It was then that the single components coalesced and assembled into a whole. It was a sand dune, flecked with pointy marram grass. The artist had used thin, pointed, green paper strips to bring out the grass texture. This was amazing!
He took another step back and-
"Whoa, careful."
He turned around and looked into the face of a young woman around his own age. What struck him most wasn't her light blue eyes but her less than shoulder length hair that stuck out at all angles. It looked cute on her, as did the plain, maroon dress she was wearing that matched her hair color almost exactly.
"I'm sorry," Adam muttered.
She gave him an amused smile. "You were all awed by the painting. I admire a man who can get lost in a painting."
He felt himself blushing. Was she flirting with him? "Yeah, I... I really like it. It's so... powerful."
She looked down, then up at him again and her smile turned warm and honest. "Well, thank you."
He had to try hard not to gape. "Whoa. You made it?"
She nodded. "Yeah. I'm amazed it got in. The competition must have been fierce."
"Oh yeah, they already call it an accomplishment if you make the short-list for a theme."
She pointed a finger at him. "Let me guess, Rizde student."
He laughed. "Busted!"
"Did you submit as well?"
"Yeah."
"What theme?"
He cautiously raised his eyebrows. "Texture."
She looked truly apologetic. "Oh no, I didn't mean to put salt in the wound. I'm really sorry."
He gave her a smile. "Don't be. Your painting is so much more awesome than mine. I'm glad they chose it, it deserves to be seen, here, in this place."
Now it was her turn to blush. "Thank you, that's... I don't know what to say."
Their eyes met and for a second the air between them got a little uncomfortable. She quickly interrupted the awkward moment. "So, what's your name?"
"Adam. Yours?"
"Layla."
"Nice to meet you, Layla."
The smile found its way back to her lips at the strangely formal stock phrase. "Have you seen the rest of the exhibition?"
"I haven't been to the first floor yet."
"Hey, me neither," she said. "Mind if I join you?"
Adam felt a little taken by surprise, but then thought, why not? "No, actually I don't."
"Cool." She linked her arm with his and energetically bounced toward the stairs.
'Whoa!' he thought. Talk about initiative. He couldn't even remember the last time he had flirted with anybody. But maybe that was just what he needed tonight, to be swept away by a sweet and lovely woman.
He didn't know where it came from, but the chorus of an Eric Clapton song suddenly swirled around in his head.
Layla, darling, won't you ease my worried mind...