"My name is Maurice." He finally answered, his eyes shifting away from hers, "Also, your arm is bleeding." He pointed to the wounds going down it.
Brielle lifted her arm, taking a quick glance.
"I know." She said softly, dropping her arm back to her...
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His Bliss - ▶︎ Playing 00:09 ────⬤────────── 00:25
Maurice walked over to Brielle, pulling the tall, empty stool to the left of her.
They were in second period, Advanced Media.
Their teacher, Mrs. Martinez, had just announced she would give them the privilege of free seating after having assigned seats for the first few weeks of school.
Immediately, Maurice came over to Brielle.
Why?
Because, why wouldn't he?
Brielle glanced away from the paper underneath her hand, observing as Maurice dropped his book bag on the ground, sitting on the stool.
Her eyes moved below her, watching his feet settle on the bars beneath her stool, his position forcing him to face her side, before her eyes traveled up to meet his kind gaze.
"Hi, Brielle." He said, setting his left forearm against the table, his right arm falling between his open legs.
"Hi, Maurice." She replied, her eyes flickering between his. "I didn't see you during homeroom today, but Mr. Allen handed out interim grades and I was too nervous to ask for yours."
"That's fine. I'll just get it later." He said, his upper body leaning closer toward her, "What are you writing?" He asked, green irises curiously traveling across her paper.
She smiled, gently tapping her pencil against the table.
"It's my writing piece for AP French." She said gracefully, Maurice's eyes continuing to skim across the sheet.
"Cool." He said, leaning away to sit up straight, before connecting their eyes, "My family is French." He added, Brielle's smile widening.
"Really?" She softly asked, Maurice giving a light nod of his head, "Do you speak fluently in French?" She questioned, her brown eyes bright and radiant as always.
Maurice looked away, his lips momentarily pursing out as the corners of them lifted up, "Almost." He started, turning his head to look back at Brielle, "My mom used to teach me when I was younger, but nobody else tried to properly teach me—but I can understand the language."
Brielle furrowed her eyebrows.
"How does that work?" She questioned, her smile still on her face.
