A Musical Mayhem

9 - Bree

I breathed a sigh of relief when Mr. Parker called me during first block the next day. He hadn't forgotten. I was excited about missing Math class, but I was even more excited about meeting Flynn again.

I didn't know why I was so attracted to this guy. I was usually really neutral and nonchalant to people, and I always tried to be that way around Flynn, too, but it just seemed like I had no choice but to be nice to him. But the problem was that I didn't even know why.

Usually, to people who were like him, I was even more nonchalant than I was to people who were social and friendly. I didn't like people winning me over or getting to the best of me, and Flynn was basically the only person around who actually acted and behaved "on par" with me. But why couldn't I just be normal around him? Why did I have to fight the urge to smile whenever he said something cheeky?

And . . . what had Flynn tried to tell me back at the Eiffel Tower Summer Camp meeting yesterday? I remembered his exact words when I had asked him what he had meant in our second time together in the theater: "Actually, I don't think it's the right time to tell you yet."

He hadn't meant . . . he hadn't meant that he liked me, right? That was impossible. We had only known each other for a day, but it seemed like it had been such a big jump from Day 1 to Day 2. And besides, there was no reason for him to have any feelings whatsoever toward me. I wasn't one of those pretty, sweet girls, and my appearance was definitely nowhere on par with his own, so there was really no reason for him to like me. Plus, I was a girl who loved thick murder mystery novels. That totally didn't seem similar to what Flynn's taste in books would be. Nothing had happened between us since the first time we had talked, so why did I suddenly feel so turned on whenever I saw him?

Just a couple of days ago, I hadn't even known that Flynn was in my English class. English was my favorite subject, and yet I had never really paid attention to who was in my class. So why did Flynn suddenly pop out and catch my eye?

It was a mystery I couldn't solve yet, but as I followed Mr. Parker to the theater, I couldn't help thinking about what I had wanted to tell Flynn at the meeting yesterday. I had said that I had something to tell him, too, except . . . I didn't exactly know what it was. Was it, "I like you"? Was it, "I like you . . . more than a friend, except I don't know how to tell you and it's only been a day since we've known each other so this is really awkward"? Something along those lines. But . . . would I ever be able to tell him? If we didn't get to go to Paris together, would I never be able to tell him my complicated feelings toward him?

I could feel my own face lit up as I walked into the theater. There Flynn was again, setting up the chairs and music stands. I didn't know how that sight was so pleasing. Had anyone else been setting up for rehearsal, I was positive that I wouldn't have had the same feeling as I was having now.

Flynn saw me, and it was as if the whole room lit up. I loved his angular face, his piercing blue eyes, his perfect hair, the way his uniform fit him . . .

I was being such a teenaged girl right now, but I couldn't help it if it was true. He gave me his trademark wry smile, and I gave him a crooked one back. I loved that expression of his.

"We're back with Bree again, Flynn," Mr. Parker chuckled. "I suppose you're excited to work with her again?"

Flynn looked at us. "Of course," he said politely. Mr. Parker smirked - an expression I didn't see often on his face.

Um . . . did Mr. Parker know something we didn't?

When the rehearsal began, it went just as well as yesterday, except somehow, the Blackthorn Quartet sounded even better than yesterday.

When first block ended, Flynn and I walked out of the theater together again, and I couldn't help thinking about how much I enjoyed his company. Knowing myself, I could very well be walking next to another guy and not feeling a thing.

"Great rehearsal today, Flynn," I said, smiling.

I didn't know why I felt so good around Flynn. We were just . . . friends, right?

It was kind of really funny, because just two days before, Flynn had only known me as "the pianist", and I had only known him as "the violinist from the Blackthorn String Quartet". But now, it already almost seemed like we were . . . friends.

Maybe we weren't friends yet. It took a while for me to trust new people, and I assumed that this was the same for Flynn. He didn't seem like a very approachable person.

"That's good to hear," he said, a small wry smile appearing on his face. "Well, we better run to our next classes. Talk to you later, Bree."

As Flynn walked away, I stared after him, wishing with all my might that we would both be accepted into the program. I still didn't really know him, but I found myself looking forward to Paris more when I thought about the possibility of us going together. We would have so much fun, and even if we didn't really talk while we were there (because that would be pretty suspicious to other people), I would still enjoy his company. Besides, it was almost impossible that Flynn wouldn't get accepted; he was the most musically talented guy I had ever met.

Remembering something, I quickly rushed back into the theater to find Mr. Parker.

"Hey, Mr. Parker? I think I know which piece I want to play with the Blackthorn Quartet," I said, smiling.

"Variations on the Canon."