Chapter 20 | peices of paper

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     I was so excited for the night that I almost forgot I had an extra class today. We had to meet in the music hall for this one.

Fundamentals Of Music theory.

I rolled my eyes at the schedule paper. This was my last class, and the most boring music class ever. I felt like it wasn't necessary. All of it was already taught to me previously.

However, today, I felt even more discouraged to get there.

As I walked through the hallways, which were mainly silent except for a few couples on the benches making out, and some boys and girls pushing each other brutally around.

I felt a sort of envy towards them...they seemed so okay, and I was just a girl being eaten up by her insides. 

They all seemed so happy.

But if mom would be here with me, she would tell me,

' You would never know what kind of wounds are behind a person's smile'

And those wounds are now all over myself, mom.
Remembering mom, my hands started shaking and I quickly blinked away the tears.

I pushed open the doors of the music hall and entered the class. The teacher wasn't here yet. 

The students were chattering with one another, their chairs scattered all over the place.

I timidly sat on a desk near the piano and kept my bag aside. There was an empty seat right next to me.


I was just about to take out a book and start reading when the teacher burst in with a bang sound.

" Gather up now! I want you all silent." He said as he took his papers out from his sack.

The students quickly dragged their chairs back to their places. They were immediately silent.

Even I must admit, the professor we had for music was pretty intimidating.

The professor sat down and started to shuffle through his papers. He looked up from his small glasses,

" This is all I have?"

" Yes professor."


All of a sudden, the doors opened again.

The professor sighed dramatically, as if he knew exactly this was about to happen.

The boy who entered was none other than the notorious Brady Ashford. His messy look and leather jacket made him look like those typical bad boys in high school. A small backpack was slung over one shoulder and he wore gray jeans below a simple white t-shirt. 

The image was truly a breathtaking one for me, though there was no effort made by him.

The first person his eyes went to was me, or so I thought. I had no idea what was my imagination and what was not anymore.

His eyes as soon as they met mine, turned to look at the floor. He kept his head down as he hastily stepped closer to the desks.

" I'm sorry I'm late." he mumbled. I bit my lip to stop myself from bursting into laughter. The professor narrowed his eyes.

" Go sit." he said sharply and pointed to the seat next to mine. 

My eyes widened. No. No. Not here.


Brady sighed audibly and sauntered over to his desk. We were way in the back, far enough that the professor didn't see him roll his eyes.

" Hey." he said as he took out his stuff. I took a moment before greeting back,

" Hi."

I inhaled. There was a prickling sensation closing in on me.

 The small moment we had outside his dorm was enough to keep me giddy for a century. And now, he was sitting right next to me.


" Are you afraid of me?" I blinked twice before actually understanding the question.

" What? Why would you think that?" I replied.

" 'Cause always inhale sharply when I'm next to you. And you always move away or become restless. As if you don't want to be next to me." he said.

" And you ran away after giving me the jacket."

I could hear a bit of his ego being hurt in that voice. I smirked.

Did he expect every human being to love him?

" I'm not afraid of you. I just simply like to...be away...from people."

He snorted, but silenced.


The lecture had started. We both were so far away that all we heard was a background buzzing. But then, I didn't really care. This stupid subject didn't even need an entire class.

I'll just read this lesson from somewhere.

Brady beside me, had a face masked of utter boredom. As the stupid girl I was, I thought it looked so attractive on him.

Staring at Brady from the corner of my eye, I started admiring his sharp jawline.

Just as I started to contradict myself--He pushed his hair back with one hand and my insides started fluttering as if it was filled with a mob of butterflies.

What could I do now?

I swallowed and tried to concentrate on the lecture again.

None of the students were focusing.

Thank goodness. I thought I was the only one.

I looked at Brady with a look saying,

" Do you think this is necessary?"

He shook his head telling me with his eyes;

" Nope."

I nodded slowly and turned my head back to the class.

A few seconds later, I felt a tap on my shoulder. When I looked over at Brady, he indicated with his eyes at the center of my desk.

There was a small chit of paper on it.

I shook my head but smiled.

His scribbly handwriting filled it. My eyes strained trying to read it.

 It said--

So then you should stay away from all human beings then? What about Becca and Izzy? And Austin? 

It took me a second to realize this referred to that small conversation we had moments ago.

I tore a small piece of paper from my notebook and wrote --

There are some exceptions.

Folding it, I quietly kept it on the side of his desk.

As soon as I kept it, he lifted it and opened it. 

His long fingers were a spectacle to see in work. I shook my head.

Admiring every part of his body was not the right way to let go of someone.


As soon as he finished reading the extremely small sentence, he turned towards me and raised an eyebrow. 

I raised an eyebrow in return. 

He took out another chit and started writing.

Unknowingly, I started to anticipate his small note. The lecture was completely forgotten. It seemed like a scene from a book.

When he tapped me again, I took the chit from his hands.

Our fingers touched, and we both froze for a second. Our eyes met. A fire lit inside of me. His fingers were soft, and the touch was like a spark.

 I couldn't fathom exactly what kind of feeling I was experiencing. It was just a touch, but it felt like a millennia of feeling was carved into it.

Brady lowered his eyes and retracted his hand slowly. I was aware of the chit in my hands. I opened it slowly, still in the trance of that small connection moment.

I ran my fingers over the scribbly handwriting and smiled. It really hadn't changed.

So you choose who you care about and who you don't?

I smiled. Taking another paper I wrote,

You can never choose who cares about you. Sometimes, you can't even choose who you care about. It just happens.

I slid it onto his table. 

Our eyes were still on the teacher, though everything just passed over our heads. Or maybe it was just me.

Maybe, I was the only one feeling that this room changed its atmosphere.

Brady took the small chit in his hands and peeled it open. He gave me a look from the corner of his eye.

The look made me feel like I was running away from the world with him beside me. 

Like I was his secret.

Only his.

I stared intently at him as his eyes darted from across the paper.

A minute passed.

Two minutes.

I knew he read the entire thing.

But the paper was still in his hands, below the desk.

Did I write something wrong?

After a while--which seemed like a decade to me, he looked up. I heard him inhale. 

When our eyes connected again, I still felt the same, deeper feeling. His eyes held a broken soul desperate to break free.

Little did he realize, of how much my soul felt the same too.

The corner of his mouth lifted up into a ghost of a smile.

He bent down on the desk and quickly scribbled something.

As soon as the chit was slid onto my desk, I opened and read --

I suppose you're right.

He wrote nothing else after that. 

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