gold rush ♬ {𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐮𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲}

x. won't even know

Someone's room is the portrait of their soul. Most times, at least. The pictures on the wall, the organization, the lack of organization, the niche collection, the color palette, the books on their shelf, the fact that they don't have books or have tones of books but in a pile. Everything means something if we look deep enough into it.

It was the first time Emma saw Tristan's room. It was the first time she was in his house at all.

Her first reaction was a mesmerized admiration. The house was enormous. It had tones of classical elements from a painted ceiling in the hall to corinthian columns scattered through the ground floor. Emma was in awe of the architecture.

It was after school and they were going study for a History test. When she entered his room she hesitated a little, it was like intruding or trespassing or breaking all the laws about someone's privacy. It was his room. She had only been in someone's room outside of family 2 times: Lane's and Michelle's. She tried her best to be calm and serene, because it wasn't a big deal, she knew that, her brain was just overthinking everything.

"Do you want anything to drink or eat?"

"No, I'm good."

"A soda and a muffin it is." He smiled. They've been going out for two weeks and he already knew her like the palm of his hand. He also knew she wanted to analyse his room and look at every detail, that's way he left her alone in there. She did exactly that.

First, she looked at the bed. It had dark blue sheets and greyish pillows. Then her eyes stopped on the nightstand. It had a lamp, a bunch of rings and a book. He was reading 'A room of one's own' by Virginia Wolf. Emma lent it to him. She looked at the bookshelf after that. It was full of school books and some random ones like the book she bought him on the first date and 'The Picture of Dorian Gray'. Emma took this one out of the shelf. The thought of him reading it because of her still created butterflies inside her. She flipped through the book and a piece of paper fell out. She picked it up and read her name.

Emma. I like your name. I like you and it pains me that you don't even know it.
I remembered your birthday the first time you told me. I remember everything you say and do. I remember the date of when I first saw you. I hope you thought I looked pretty or something. I thought you looked pretty. You are pretty.

She was reading the words and she was starstruck.

I remember when you told me that your mother is so obsessed with snow and that she passed the obsession as some heritage of some sort. But you also told me that you hate the cold. It makes no sense at all. I memorized everything that revolves around your orbit. I kinda sound like a stalker, I'm sorry. I really like you and you have no idea.
I think you hate me. I can't think of an occasion where any cell of my body could ever hate you.

She was getting emotional but she put the book back on the shelf and hid the paper in her bag.

Tristan appeared with a tray with two cups and two muffins.

"Thank you." She hugged him when he put the tray on the desk.

"You're welcome." He was confused. It was just food, I mean, it's very important and loved but it didn't match her excitement. "So, do we start with the Gothic or the Romanic?"

"I think we should start with this." She touched his lips. She didn't know where the confidence came from. 

"Oh. Okay." He smiled, kissing her passionately.

They studied for the test and it went well too. I felt the need to say that.

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