HEARTS AND SPADES

CHAPTER THREE

     The morning sun poured through Amara's window, painting the dorm room with a vibrant optimism. Unlike yesterday's relaxed atmosphere, the campus this morning thrummed with a frenetic energy. Students swarmed the hallways, backpacks slung over their shoulders, faces etched with a mixture of excitement and determination. It was registration day, and Amara felt swept up in the tidal wave of enrollment.

She navigated the bustling corridors, clutching a map that threatened to disintegrate in her sweaty hand. The line for Arts and Humanities registration stretched what felt like miles, a cacophony of excited chatter and frustrated sighs filling the air. As Amara inched forward, the sound of a smooth, deep voice cut through the noise.

"Hey there, lost soul? Need a registration savior?"

Amara glanced up to find a stranger with neatly styled brown hair and eyes the color of warm amber. His smile crinkled at the corners, radiating an easy charm, and his clothes seemed meticulously chosen for effortless cool. It wasn't the guy from the piano, that was a different encounter entirely. This newcomer's confidence was almost tangible, and Amara politely offered a strained smile, her focus more on the registration form than his playful banter.

"No thanks, I think I can manage," she replied, hoping to politely decline his offer.

  The newcomer seemed unfazed. "Suit yourself," he shrugged, his gaze lingering a beat too long before he turned to flirt with the woman behind Amara. Amara felt a flicker of something she couldn't quite define – annoyance? Intrigue? Whatever it was, it was quickly overshadowed by the pressing need to secure her classes.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, it was Amara's turn. The registration process went by in a blur of signatures and course codes. As she walked away, a nagging feeling drew her back towards the main hallway. It was then she remembered – the music room.

Following a barely visible sign, Amara found herself outside a large oak door adorned with faded musical notes. Taking a deep breath, she pushed it open and stepped inside. The room bathed in a warm, honey-colored light. A grand piano sat proudly in the center, dwarfed by looming bookshelves overflowing with sheet music. In the corner, an elderly gentleman with a shock of silver hair was intently coaching a group of nervous-looking freshmen on how to hold their violins.

As Amara stood hesitantly by the door, the music director's gaze landed on her. He smiled warmly, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling like a well-worn map. "Can I help you, young lady?"

   Amara felt a blush creep up her neck. "Um, yes," she stammered. "I... I used to play piano, and I was wondering if there was any way I could...." Her voice trailed off, unsure of how to phrase her request.

The director chuckled, the sound surprisingly rich and warm. "Join? Is that what you want to say?" He gestured towards the nervous freshmen. "These are our new music majors, but we do have a program for non-majors who have a passion for music."

Hope bloomed in Amara's chest. "That would be amazing!"

  The director nodded. "Let's see. Speak with Mr. Thompson on the third floor. He handles all the sign-ups for the non-major music program."

Amara approached Mr. Thompson, a man with kind eyes framed by wire-rimmed glasses. "Hello," she said, her voice brimming with nervous excitement. "I'm interested in signing up for the non-major music program."

As she explained her background and love for piano, a tall figure materialized beside her. Amara froze. It was him – the guy who had caught her playing last night, the one with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He seemed to shrink into himself, a blush creeping up his neck that mirrored Amara's own.

Mr. Thompson looked between them, confused. "Do you two know each other?"

The guy cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact. "Uh, no, sir. Just... small world, I guess."

But Amara wasn't fooled. She could practically hear the gears turning in his head, trying to figure a way out of this unexpected situation. A spark of defiance ignited within her. Ignoring his flustered state, she continued outlining her musical experience to Mr. Thompson. The desire to rekindle her passion for music burned brighter than his awkwardness.

  Mr. Thompson, oblivious to the silent tension crackle in the air, listened intently to Amara's background. "Excellent experience, Ms. Amara," he said, his smile radiating warmth.  "We'd be delighted to have you join the program.  There's a piano placement test next week to determine your skill level and assign you to an appropriate class."

Relief and excitement bubbled within Amara. This was happening!  A genuine smile bloomed on her face. "Thank you, Mr. Thompson. I really appreciate it."

"No problem at all," he said, handing her a registration form. "Just fill this out and return it by Friday."

  As Amara filled out the form, she stole a glance at the guy beside her. He was no longer staring out the window, but instead, his gaze flickered between her and the form with a mixture of surprise and… disapproval?

"So, music program, huh?" he finally spoke, his voice devoid of the charm he exuded earlier.

Amara shrugged, keeping her voice neutral. "Seems like it might be fun to play again."

"Yeah, well," he started, then hesitated. Finally, he sighed, a hint of frustration evident. "Look, I know this is kind of out of the blue, but…" He trailed off, then leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Are you sure about this?"

Amara raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in her eyes. "About what, exactly?"
 
"The music program," he said, emphasizing each word.  "It's a lot of work, you know.  Extra classes on top of your regular studies.  You might get in over your head."

His words stung a little, but Amara wasn't about to be dissuaded.  She straightened her posture and met his gaze head-on.  "I appreciate your concern," she said politely but firmly, "but I used to play piano seriously.  This program seems like a great way to rekindle that passion."

He seemed to search her face for a moment, then reluctantly conceded. "Fine," he muttered. "But don't come crying to me if you can't handle the workload."

A stubborn glint ignited in Amara's eyes. "Believe me," she countered, a playful smile tugging at her lips, "I can handle it."

There was a tense silence between them for a moment, the air thick with unspoken thoughts.

"So," he finally said, breaking the silence, his tone flat. "What's your name, prodigy pianist?"

The bite in his words was unmistakable, but Amara was determined not to let him get under her skin.  "Amara," she replied, extending a hand towards him.

He took her hand hesitantly, his touch cool and distant. "Elias," he said, his eyes devoid of the warmth that might have lingered there before.

   Despite his aloofness, a spark of curiosity flickered within Amara. Who was Elias? Why did he seem reluctant about her joining the music program?

Just then, her phone buzzed in her pocket. Pulling it out, Amara saw a text from Maya. "Hey! Just finished registering. Wanna grab some coffee and celebrate at the cafe?  Can't wait to hear all about your musical adventures!"

A smile bloomed on Amara's face. The future, like the sheet music waiting to be played, was full of possibilities.