The Pianist and the Author

The plane ride

Samantha stretched next to me. A tiring, long, plane ride it has been. Luckily we weren't alone. She tied her dark messy ponytail in an even messier bun. Her hair was a perfect blackness, and even in a messy bun it was gorgeous. I wanted Samantha's hair so much. Seriously, I need it.

I fussed my stupid blonde hair. What an ugly color. I hated this weird yellowish glow and have always wanted straight dark hair. Or even a nice tone of red. My curls got tangled up in my hand. My hair weaved into my fingers and trapped my skin inside.

Samantha always told me my hair was beautiful. I highly doubt that's true. Anybody who thought my hair, out of all my body, was pretty, certainly needed strong prescription glasses. But Samantha still loved to caress my "soft" and "sweet" hair. She has been doing it the whole plane ride, while I was trying to read.

Whatever, she's pretty cute...

Ever since there was no piano anymore around me, I have gone to Samantha's house to play at her piano. She says that "nobody in my family knows how to play, but I at the same time love music". She nearly begged me to play.

To be fair, I accepted without much hesitation. A chance to play the piano was a great opportunity. Not only did I get to play for her, it gave me a place to learn. I was glad.

Samantha says that "music helps me concentrate", but when I first asked "On what?" she didn't want to tell me. Later on I snuck into her computer and found her numerous stories. They were neatly scattered in her little non-existent folders. I had to say, it was the most disorganized computer I have ever met. It held more than 80 documents, each ranging from two pages to some with more than 100. It was quite impressive, though.

When Samantha caught me, I was in huge trouble. Not really. But she did get very shocked, she slammed her computer (nearly on my fingers, I've to thank her again) and she screamed a little "Kya!" like in those weird cartoony things. Right, anime.

Anyway she just told me how some stories were weird and how she didn't want to show anyone. I asked her "How do you have the patience to write so much?". She told me "I enjoy doing it in my free time.". I was still intrigued and asked "But how can you enjoy writing so, so much?". She asked me "How do you like playing the piano so much?", to which I replied "It's great fun." She then said "Well, writing is fun for me too!", and I quickly understood.

The plane landed and we prepared to head out. I got out first (since Samantha was on the window's wide) and took down all our luggage. People looked at us in weirdness, all like "What are two girls doing in Hawaii ALONE?". I tried to ignore them but it was weird, having all eyeballs clung to you like nails. Samantha did a great job ignoring them. Playing with her chapped enough nails, she was not minding a single one of those eyes.

We got into our hotel, finally, and the first thing she did was flop into the bed on the right. She said "I call this one!" and I shrugged, not caring because I knew we were probably going to end up in the same bed anyway.

I can't wait to get into the sun tomorrow. It's going to be a great date.