It was late in the morning as Trish climbed the stairs of the Wade household with her phone in hand. She knocked on the bedroom door, which was painted bright orange and dark blue, and then she leaned against the beige wall in the hallway. She finished typing a message to Ally:

Picking up Dez. Meet u there

A few seconds went by before Trish's phone dinged with a reply.

No slime!

Trish rolled her eyes but her lips formed a small smile. She knocked again, but this time didn't wait for a reply before walking into the bedroom. She tucked her phone into the back pocket of her leggings.

"Hey, Dez. Ally said no slime," she announced.

"But I already packed it!"

Trish's eyes lazily glanced around the room as she prepared to yell at her friend for taking so long and packing stupid things. But then she saw it.

"What the heck is that, Dez?"

Trish stood frozen in the center of her weirdest friend's bedroom. Her eyes were locked on the painting of her hanging in the center of the wall that hadn't been there the last time she had visited. It was so large that if it ever fell it would knock any passersby flat on their face. Face. The artwork was a close up of her's with bright colors intertwined with the dark curls of her hair that framed her cheeks. It was so realistic that it could have been a gigantic photograph of her if it hadn't been for all the streaks of random colors.

Dez glanced over his shoulder. "It's a painting," he answered nonchalantly as he continued packing his suitcase.

Trish blinked. "A painting," she muttered. With her hands on her hips, she turned to glare at him. "No, I mean why the heck is," she pointed an accusatory finger up at the painting, "that in your room!"

Dez pressed down on his overstuffed suitcase with both hands. His eyes were focused on the bag, so he didn't see that the girl was glaring at him. Not that her glare ever made a difference. He was so used to it by now that he was concerned when too much time went by without her giving him a look.

"Hmm...Do you think I'll need a tuxedo, Trish? Probably, right? But I don't…" He tried to shove the bag closed. "...Know. If. It's. Gonna!" He finally got the latches of the suitcase to snap. "Yay, we did it, Trish! Woo!"

"Dez!" Trish stomped over and in one motion got on his bed and sat on his suitcase so that he would pay attention to her. She crossed her feet at the ankles and tilted her head slightly as she continued to glare.

"Hi, Trish," Dez said cheerfully. He didn't want her to change her mind about driving him to meet the rest of the group at the airport, so he resisted the urge to pinch her cheeks even though she looked so cute sitting on top of his suitcase.

"You've got ten seconds to tell me why there's a creepy giant painting of me in your room," she said through her teeth.

"It's not creepy!" Dez frowned. He turned to stare in admiration at the painting. "It's beautiful!"

Trish felt her face heat up and a few butterflies flutter in her stomach. She wasn't sure if he meant that his technique was beautiful, because it absolutely was. The guy was talented. Or if he meant that she was beautiful. She cleared her throat and crossed her arms as she continued to sit on his suitcase. "That's not an answer, doof."

He turned back to face her. "Well of course I keep it in my room, silly. I painted it," he said as if that was the only explanation she needed.

She raised her eyebrow at him. "Don't you think it's a little… weird."

Dez gave her a blank look. He blinked. "Weird how?"

"Are you serious?"

He continued to stare at her with his beautiful eyes. Trish felt uncomfortable under his gaze. It made her heart beat faster and her face feel flushed. She hopped off the suitcase and stood with her back to the painting. She said, "For starters, genius, I'm not your girlfriend. Carrie is…"'

Dez glanced at the painting and then back to Trish. He had always been a fan of the truth, but he had hoped to avoid this conversation with his friend. He knew she would be peeved because she always seemed to be peeved with him. But it was his own fault for being so inspired by her and so proud of his work that he needed to put it on display.

He replied honestly, "But Carrie isn't my muse."

Few people in the world could make Trish speechless. She honestly could not decide how to react. Part of her wanted to yell at him for dating someone else but declaring her his muse. Part of her wanted to admit to him that she was flattered by the painting in his room and wished he were dating her. And a tiny, shameful part of her wanted to text Carrie and gloat.

"Team Austin is going on a mountain retreat, idiot. You don't need a tuxedo," she said softly. She took her phone out of her pocket so that she wouldn't have to look at him as she walked towards the door. "Take the creepy picture down, Dez. I'll meet you at the car."

End note: This oneshot was based off the prompt paint from the September OTP Prompt Challenge posted by . Thank you for sharing prompts, person from the internet.