average human’s Reviews > Hectic Elements: Fairview Academy Book 1 > Status Update

“Great choice with the pizza platter – not sure about the salad though.”
“I like salad. And their Ceasar salad looks amazing.” I quip.
“The food is on its way?” Fade questions, stepping off of the stairs and into the kitchen.
“Yup. Shall the battle commence?” Rapid grins.
“Battle?” I echo.
Handing me my phone, Elijah whips around to face Rapid and extends his hands, one fisted and resting on the others palm.
Rapid echoes him, hunching down, their stare-off intense.
“I want a clean fight, and no cheating.” Fade intones, taking a place to the side of them.
“Why are you playing scissors-paper-rock?” I question.
“To see who is picking the movie line-up for tonight, of course.” Rapid snickers.
I blink at them as Fade begins a countdown, my lips pursing against a laugh.
I knew living with boys would bring some odd moments, but I found myself trying not to laugh more often than I was wondering if they were dropped on their heads.
I don’t know why I’d thought they would be more mature, it was very clear that being Elite and Royalty did not affect their behaviour inside this house.
“And, go!” Fade shouts.
“SCISSORS-PAPER-ROCK!” The boys chant, their eyes locked together and expressions pinched.
“Elijah takes paper with scissors. Round two!” Fade announces.
“Fuck.” Rapid gripes, settling into position and glaring at Elijah’s grin.
“Ready…” The boys tense. “Go!”
“SCISSORS-PAPER-ROCK!”
Rapid produces rock, and Elijah scissors.
“Ha!” Rapid laughs, dancing around. “Got you, motherfucker!”
“There is another round yet.” Elijah huffs.
“Alright, come on, round three.” Fade instructs, waving Rapid back to them. “Alright, ready……… Go!”
“SCISSORS-PAPER-ROCK!”
Elijah cuts Rapid’s paper with scissors.
“Damnit!” Rapid sulks, pouting.
Elijah lets out a victory whoop and dances into the loungeroom, snatching up the TV remote.
“Why didn’t you play?” I ask Fade.
“I won last time. The losers battle each time, but Tomashi isn’t here, so it was just them.” He explains. “Come, we will set you up in the best seat. Rapid tends to hog the lounge.”
“Yes I do.” Scooping me up in a fireman’s carry, I squeal when he runs into the loungeroom and drops me onto the long couch.
“Rapid!” I laugh.
Falling down beside me with an evil chuckle, Elijah collapses on my other side, caging me into the corner of the L-shaped couch.
“What are we watching?”
“Iron Man – as many of them as we can get through.”
“Oh, yes! RDJ has got to be my favourite sassy human playboy.” I sigh dreamily, settling into my seat.
“Have a particular wet spot for morally grey billionaire playboys, do you?” Rapid croons.
I eye the salacious grin on his face with a taunting smirk. “Oh yeah. A few of them.”
His eyes turn dark and wicked, the playful replaced with predatory.
I raise a brow in challenge.
Fade clears his throat. “I will get the food.” He says and rises from the lounge just as the doorbell rings.
I glance away from Rapid before I do something stupid, clearing my throat.
Elijah clicks onto the movie and pauses it, then leans forward to pull the long dark wood coffee table closer.
Fade re-enters with two long cardboard boxes and a clear plastic container filled with salad.
I shift forward and help him and Elijah arrange it all on the table, ignoring Rapid’s burning gaze on my spine.
Fade passes out the plastic cutlery, though Rapid and Elijah don’t even bother with it, and flips open the lids to the pizza boxes.
Packed full of exactly 48 pieces of rectangle finger-sliced pieces of pizza, a mix of meatlovers, peperoni, BBQ chicken, double cheese burger, Hawaiian, and margarita – it also has two scrolls of delicious garlic bread.
“We all better be eating the garlic bread. I refuse to be the only one with bad breath for the rest of the night.” I say and rip a piece of it off.
“No chance.” Rapid laughs and grabs half of a loaf for himself.
Elijah picks up the other half, and Fade takes two pieces.
“Alright, people, let the show begin.” Elijah murmurs and presses play.

36%

Some twenty minutes into the class, I was layering oil paints onto my canvas to create a gloomy background when I noticed what the princess and Yelana were doing.
Or rather, what Yelana wasn’t doing and Imelda’s quiet scolding.
“This is an art class, Lana. You’re supposed to be creating something.” The Princess sighs, obviously exasperated.
“I did.” Yelana grunts, gesturing toward the stick figure hanging from a rope on her canvas.
Imelda shakes her head. “You couldn’t come up with something a little more creative?”
“No.”
“For the love of the Gods.” Imelda mutters and resumes shading her own artwork.
The Princess had drawn a rather elegant figure wearing a long stylised mermaid gown, the bodice exquisitely detailed and gorgeous on the model’s exaggeratedly long limbs.
Staring at it, I realised it was like those fashion drawings you always saw designers do before they started making the clothing.
It was gorgeous, and very nicely done considering she’d only used coloured pencils, but I couldn’t help but wonder why she hadn’t used watercolours.
“Do you like it?” She asks me softly.
“Yes.” I immediately tell her, setting down my paintbrush. “It’s very detailed. Makes me think the dress would look stunning in real life.”
She smiles, this one real and not the polite practised expression I’d seen her use before. “I hope so. I wanted to learn more ways to express my designs, and thought an art class might help.”
My brows rise. “You’re going to make that?” I gesture to the canvas.
“Hopefully.”
“She will. And it’ll look great.” Yelana butts in. “Everything she makes looks good, in my opinion.”
“You’re my friend. Of course you would say that.”
“If you can sew half as good as you draw, it’ll be breathtaking.” I tell her.
“Thank you.” She murmurs and glances at my own canvas. “That looks like it’ll be interesting.”
I glance at the black-brown smudged background. It was only the base, inspired by Victorian-era photos, but I hoped it would be exquisite when finished.
“Fingers crossed.” I murmur.
Glancing back at her own masterpiece, I gather my courage. “Can I make a suggestion?”
Yelana eyes me from Imelda’s other side, her narrow gaze promising all kinds of violent death if I so much as upset her friend.
“Sure.”
Putting down her pencil and turning to give me her full attention, I hold up a finger and slide off my stool.
Yelana tenses, but she relaxes when she realises I’m by-passing them both and heading over to the supplies cupboard.
Selecting a pallet of fine-looking watercolours, some soft brushes, two jars, and a fresh canvas, I juggle the items as I make my way back over.
Pausing next to Imelda, I gesture to her easel.
“Is it okay if—”
With a nod from Imelda, Yelana removes the old canvas and gently places it in a nearby drying rack, so I place the new one upon the easel and set out all of the mediums on the small table attached to it.
Quickly leaving to fill up both of the jars, I rush back and set them beside the dry brushes.
“Um, have you ever watched a French fashion show? Or a fashion documentary?” I ask.
Imelda nods slowly, her soft hair sliding over her shoulders.
“Okay, and you’ve seen the drawings and designs they do before making the clothing – obviously.” I gesture to her old canvas.
She nods again, eyeing the watercolour pallet curiously. “Yes. The drawings are always as gorgeous as the clothing.”
“Right, well, while different designers tend to have different ways of drawing out their creations, most French fashion houses have a tell-tale trait that they pass down.” I gesture to the watercolour pallet. “They use watercolours. You can easily add more volume, colour layers, shadowing, create shades, give a gauze effect. It’s also visually satisfying.”