#18 in TeenFic
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❝Don't,❞ he pleaded softly, offering her a tiny smile, ❝please don't make me a promise you will never be able to keep.❞ He released a quiet but deep breath, leaning forward even more, tilting his body towards her, until thei...
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to inkhlingsforalwayssayingthethingsthatplaceagiganticsmileonmyface <3
| Chapter 03 |
| first impressions |
BREE sat by her window, where she'd dragged the chair from her study desk and placed it.
She had the perfect view from here; of the street right outside. It was the same old pavement of red bricks, same old rusty bicycle that greeted her from the lawn of the house across, same old street Iights and same old bushes of purple coneflowers lining the wall down towards her left.
And yet, it never tired her eyes.
There was something new about it everyday; whether it was the sun shining a little brighter, the trees shedding a few more leaves than ever, or even the woman from the house down the road walking her dog.
Today it was a guy with a grey T-shirt running along the pavement.
Bree thought he looked familiar and though she couldn't clearly make out his face from all the way up here, she strongly suspected it was Dale's "relative", considering he himself didn't know what the relation actually was. The very one who'd moved into Dale's house a few months after all of them had graduated from high school and were prepping for college.
Bree didn't really pay much attention to him, but today, on this very moment, she did.
She let her eyes drink in the thrust of his legs, the swing of his arms, the bend of his head and forced herself to freeze the picture in the forefront of her memory.
Because her memory was where this particular image could be stored -- had it been anybody else, a random jogger on the street, she wouldn't have thought twice about grabbing her camera and capturing the moment.
But this was Nick Fraser, the one boy she knew nothing about but who she was certain didn't have a welcoming aura around him. And it put her in a place of discomfort, the idea of clicking a picture of him.
Sighing, she turned away from the window, and back to the music sheet in front of her, wondering if she wanted to change anything in the notes she'd been composing since the last two weeks.
She came home every weekend, travelling all the way to Greenville despite it being a ninety minutes drive from the college she attended in Columbia. But this way, her mum didn't miss her too much or she her mum.
It was convenient, too. She didn't have to wait in queue to do the laundry or pack a lot of clothes.
It also satisfied her homesickness and the every-now-and-then cravings to be back in her room, with her old piano that had paint flakes scattered around its legs. It needed to be repainted, and polished too.
