Title:The Notepad
Authors Note: Every story has its own beginning, this is myne. Yes, I do know how to spell 'mine' I just like it my way.
Point of View: Bay's

"Hey, Emmett?" We heard from the door of my art studio. I turned from my easel to the door as Emmett turned away from his book, to the door. Daphne was standing there, looking at Emmett, who had taken to my studio, and me, after we kissed. She looked at me for a second before signing something that look kind of like 'go' and 'talk'. Emmett looked at me, and I turned back to my easel. I heard footsteps as he approached Daphne and they left my studio, shutting the door behind them.

After 5 minutes or so, Emmett came back in and sat down, reading his book again. I watched him, as he turned the page, his eyes flickering to myne and he smirked. I hid a smile, and he stood up again, as I turned to my easel, I felt him behind me. He traced one of the lines and got paint on his finger but he didn't seem to mind. He kept tracing the lines after I painted them. It smudged them and his hand was colorful. Some would think it would make me mad but I liked how it turned out. Colors were everywhere, big and small, lines smudged and unsmudged.

When we took a break a little while later, we finally 'talked'. He was sitting across from me on a bar stool while I sat on the counter. Mom hated that but she was out playing tennis with Denise. We both had a glass of water and a bag of chips. He tapped the counter and I looked up at him, he smiled at me, his blue eyes sparkling.

'What were you and Daphne talking about?" I asked, signing the words I could. He nodded thoughtfully and then, looked at me. He point to his head, and then made the 'what' sign, and then the go sign, he spelt the word 'on', and then motioned in between us, pointed to me, then at him. I thought for a second, and then said: "Thinking about what's going on between me and you?" I asked, repeating his motions. He shrugged and did the motion for more or less. I nodded, and then looked back down at my food, before hopping off the counter.

I went to a drawer and grabbed a notepad and a pen. I sat on the stool besides him, and dropped my gifts in between us; he looked at me with a raised eyebrow. I rolled my eyes, and tried to sign: so we can talk better. He laughed at my signing at took the pen, writing something down.

What was that? He wrote, and I laughed, causing him to laugh.

So we can talk better till I learn more sign language. I wrote pushing it back towards him. He nodded thoughtfully before pushing his food away from him so the notepad was his main concentration object. I reached over and put the chips by my own and turned towards him waiting.

Daphne wanted to know if something was going on between us, I told her possibly, and then she stared at me, said some stuff that was unimportant and asked if she needed a ride for tomorrow, in case I was taking you. I told 'how would I know?' then she walked off. The notepad says, I nodded before snatched the pen from his hand and began writing.

She likes you. I wrote passing it back to him. He shook his head and began writing, tearing the top sheet off and placing it to the side.

No, she doesn't. If she did she would have made her move already. She's had what? 9 years? We both know I used to like her, and then I met you. I like you, not her. She is a friend, nothing more to me. I read from his script. I sighed and studied the writing before adding some myself.

Alright, but I'm a girl, I know girls. Still offering that ride? I passed the note back toward him. He laughed his type of laugh, and wrote a word.

Yes. I smiled at that one word, and then looked at him quizzically.

How do you say yes and no? He looked at the pad, before looking at me. He took the pen from my hands, and pointed to yes, he made his other hand into a fist and knocked it 3 times, like knocking on a door. I mimicked him and he smiled before pointing to no. He put his pointer finger and middle finger together and then brought his thumb up to meet them. It looked like the talking sign minus two fingers. I mimicked that one, and he clapped, I laughed and made the sign for thank you.

We then went back to my studio, he took the notepad with us and I pocketed the notes. He looked at me with a raised eyebrow, and I shrugged, walking in front of him. After an hour or two more in the garage, Emmett had to go home for dinner; I walked him out and gave him a hug, which lasted a while before he hopped on his bike and 'vroomed-vroomed' away. I watched him until he disappeared before heading back and admiring our painting.