CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Pens, pencils, crumpled and torn up paper and other drawing materials were littered around Emily, who sat cross legged on the floor in the living room of the large cabin that was home to her and her mother, humming a nostalgic tune as she scribbled into a sketch book.

Her phone chimed but she ignored it. Beads of sweat formed around her furrowed brows as she made light strokes with complete concentration.

Her working hands froze suddenly and she raised up the sketch book to get a better view.

She'd drawn him again. Her eyes widened at this realization. She groaned, slapping the book on her forehead.

"What's wrong with you Em, focus." She grumbled, tearing off, crumpling and tossing the sheet away. But she was unable to focus on anything else in the past few days. She kept on daydreaming about them together. If anything, the crumpled sheets containing drawings of him proved that she was about losing her mind.

"It's just a crush! When did you become such whore." She muttered, "it's no