Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
He asks something, to which I have to answer love, hate, or no option, and then it’s my turn to ask him, but the topic has to do in some way, shape or form with the last.
“Love,” I answer, meeting his smile. “I think I’d love it.”
“So you could experience the real thing,” he laughs. “Aside from your ziti pizza.”
“Hey,” I huff. “Don’t knock the ziti pizza.”
He laughs, as I think of my question.
“Okay, Mr. travel and food. “Breakfast?”
“The meal or the club?” He smirks, referencing the movie.
“Both!”
“Love. It’s the most important meal of the day,” he says and I roll my eyes. “And also love.”
“I mostly skip breakfast,” I admit and he shakes his head.
“Bad girl,” he tisks. “Don’t disappoint me on this next one,” he says. “John Hughes?”
“Love!” I shriek. “Pretty in Pink is my favorite movie!”
“What’s your second favorite?”
“Hmm,” I think. “Three Men And A Little Lady!”
“Really?” His face is scrunched, but his eyes still glisten.
“Yes! Don’t make fun. It’s so cute!” I pause, debating on my next question. “England?” I know he’s been.
“England? We’re passed the travel subject.”
“No, they go to England in the movie,” I correct. “It fits.”
“No opinion,” he shrugs. “It’s kind of dreary…. Fish and or chips?”
“Well, I’ve never had the official fish and chips. But, love chips, hate fish as a food, no opinion on the pet version.”
He laughs a wonderful sound.
“How do you have no opinion on fish?” He’s still chuckling. “You either like them or you don’t.”
“I dunno,” I shrug. “They’re kind of just there… in a bowl, swimming around until they die and float to the top. It’s so weird.”
He’s still laughing as I remain on the whole British topic for my next question. “Harry Potter?”
“No opinion,” he answers. Haven’t read the books, or seen the movie.”
“Oh the books are so fun, you have to read them!”
“Is there anything you haven’t read?”
“Don’t be absurd,” I roll my eyes.
We continue like this, back and forth, for the rest of the afternoon, and too soon I’m disappointed when we hear everyone on stage saying goodbye. He looks at his watch and we laugh, not realizing how long we’ve been here.
We say goodbye for the second time today.
It’s not any easier.
The next day after school, as I’m putting my clothes back on, he says he’ll meet me in the auditorium.
I’m giddy as he plops down into the seat next to me, in our quiet little back row, grabbing my hand like he did yesterday, as a new magical conversation begins, planting itself in my memory, never to be removed.
This is how it I spend my March, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
The show performs all this upcoming week and weekend, leading into spring break. Thanks to going over snow days this year, spring break is actually pretty short, and not nearly as long as it was supposed to be. Hallelujah! Everyone keeps complaining about its length, but I know two people who are extremely thankful.
The local elementary and middle schools have field trips to see the play during this week, while parents and the public will come over the weekend.
Today is the very last rehearsal, and I’m devastated to no longer having that extra excuse to spend more time with him.
I was getting nervous he wasn’t going to show up in the auditorium today. He had a department meeting after school and wasn’t sure how long it was going to take.
I can’t help the extra beat of my heart when I see him sneak into the theater, watching out of the corner of my eye as he takes the seat behind me, just like he did the first time he showed up here, almost a month ago.
“Follow me,” he whispers.
He abruptly gets back up and walks out.
I stand, grabbing my bag and heading out the side door of the auditorium too. The change of lighting makes me to squint, and I rub my eyes. I don’t question where we’re going as I match my pace to his, because it doesn’t matter.
I’d follow him anywhere.
His path takes us down the music hallway. I haven’t been to this side of the school since freshman year, when everyone is forced to either take band or chorus.
He opens a door and we enter a small rehearsal room. The lights are off and the early evening luster creates a spotlight of air dust that shines onto the piano. He places his hand on the small of my back, guiding me inside.
“I want to show you something,” he watches me intently as he takes a seat at the piano.
Suddenly, his fingers are dancing over the keys with grace and ease; creating the most lovely, most alluring sound I’ve ever heard. My mind swirls, and for the quickest second I loose my balance. I want to move closer, but I can’t. I’m stuck, trapped, open-mouthed and awestruck.