"Flick, stop moving." Johannes lowers his brush once more, looking more vexed than the last time he had to stop—which, admittedly, was only about two minutes ago.
"I'm sorry, I dislike sitting still." I try to say this without moving my lips, which makes him crack a slight smile.
"The beautiful ones are always the most difficult to work with."
How right he is.
I am sitting as gracefully as possible on a chair in Johannes's apartment, which is quite typical-looking of an artist. Canvases are set up on easels ranging from makeshift to professional, and rags are thrown over every available empty space. Paint stains litter the floor, and the occasional shirt can be found draped over this or that.
"Can I at least talk to you? Not moving at all is frightfully dull, and I daresay I endured enough of that at Spence."
"Very well," Johannes sighs. "I've already done your mouth anyway…I knew that would probably be the hardest part, as it never ceases moving."
"Well!"
"Please do not tell me you didn't see that coming." He reaches for his palette. "Anyway, I never said it was a bad thing. I find you most entertaining."
"Entertaining?"
"Most women these days hardly say anything, and when they do, it is so obvious it is all memorized, proper…a formality. I like that you say what comes to mind…and what's more, that you have a mind for such things to come to."
"Well, in that case, I'm glad to be of such amusement to you." I smirk softly and wait for it.
Johannes scoffs. "You are impossible."
"Delightfully so."
He rolls his eyes and laughs, long used to my antics by now. "On another note, I've another model in mind I'd like for you to pose for me with. The two of you would be lovely for my new idea."
"Intriguing." I cock my head. "What is her name?"
"Simone." He adds more pink to his palette and focuses on some minor detail before straightening to look at me. "You will either get along famously with her, or you will not."
"Why wouldn't I?"
"It just depends on how you get on with other people. I haven't actually seen you interact with anyone your own age besides myself, so I cannot say for sure. You do have similar senses of humor, though." He glares at me. At this, I respond with a wide-eyed, 'who, me?' look.
"Those lovely ocean-blues shan't fool me," Johannes laughs. "You are the very picture of innocence with your golden hair and rosebud lips, but I know otherwise."
I shrug. "Can't judge a book by its cover, even if it's the prettiest one you've ever seen."
"You are so full of yourself." He rolls his eyes and adjusts his canvas, which has tipped slightly. "But at least you're finally sitting still."
I stick my tongue out at him, a shamefully unladylike display. He responds in the most mature fashion possible—sticking his back out at me.
"What did they teach you at that Spence place?" he mutters, going back to his painting.
"Grace, charm and beauty, my friend." I straighten like a needle and give him a crooked smile. With Johannes, it is too easy.
_____________
Several days later, I am most anxious to meet this Simone character. Now that I think of it, I'd be anxious to meet anyone my own age and gender. Not that anyone could come close to replacing Gemma or Ann—or Pippa. I remind myself that I am not looking for a substitution, only a new addition.
Johannes has promised to meet me with my potential new acquaintance by the fountain, where we like to converse when the weather is exceptionally favorable. I sit upon the tower of bricks around the water, angling myself so that I can watch the drops form rings in the pool. So many form at once, like a song, casting circles and dissolving under the surface. I reach forward to touch one, causing a reaction of my own in the fountain. The water responds to my fingertips gently, and from behind me my hand is lightly batted.
"What have I told you about playing here unsupervised?" Johannes gives me a lopsided smile and gestures with a grand bow to his companion. "Miss Worthington, it is my pleasure to introduce you to Miss Simone Chevalier."
"Miss Chevalier." I make a polite curtsy while attempting to see what I'm dealing with. She is eye level with me when I dip the few inches, and while the set of her mouth is composed, conveys a certainje ne sais quoi. I have known her all of a minute and already I have concluded that boring, she is not.
"Mademoiselle Worthington." She returns the gesture with a curtsy of her own.
"Tedious formalities." I wave the name away with my ungloved hand. "Please call me Felicity."
"Very well, you may call me Simone." She fans herself lightly. "You've a lovely sense of style. That dress is most becoming on you."
The dress to which she is referring is none other than the forget-me-not violet, and I twirl the skirts lightly with my fingers.
"Thank you. Johannes convinced me to purchase it."
"Ah, he has a talent for that sort of thing." Simone breaks into a genuine smile. "Artists are most interesting people."
"That they are." I nudge him lightly with my elbow.
Simone's eyes, a color Johannes would likely refer to as 'autumn', rest on me briefly before flitting to the ice shop on the corner. "Shall we, friends? I think a treat is in order on this lovely day."
"I knew I was going to like you." I flash her a smile of my own and lead the way.
Ah, no excuse for not updating this sooner. I apologize. I need some feedback, as this could go one of a few ways at this point. Thanks for reading!