Under This Chaotic Rain

Chapter Six: It's Time

March 15, 2015

     As I start to unlock the door to my apartment, my mind immediately switches to relax mode, and my shoulders fall, letting the stresses of the day melt away.  I let my purse droop close to the  floor by just the strength of my finger and take in the scene of home. 

     I love my apartment, I really do.  It's quaint, but not claustrophobic; you can walk around with your arms stretched out without bumping into anything...well...as long as you're not in the hallway.  When you walk in, it doesn't look like your usual college student apartment.  For one, the walls are white like normal,  but are covered in polaroids, framed photos, and album posters.  If the furniture was plain, the walls would be the loudest accent in the room, but that's definitely not the case.  My aunt gave me and Zayna her old and velvet blue couch that only has three legs, so we had to place a stack of books under the fourth corner.  And then due to Zayna's request at an antique shop, we got a vintage suede mustard colored chair that smells like a grandmother was sitting in it for twenty years.  I used to hate it but now it's become my favorite thing in the whole apartment.  The smell is comforting now.  The staple of the room, though, is the coffee table, believe it or not.  It was ordinary and chipped before I painted it.  Now it's white with splashes of turquoise, periwinkle, and a blush pink.  The kitchen is about the size of each bedroom--small, and about as messed up as I am.  The oven starts to smoke if it goes over 400 degrees (we should probably get that checked out), and the fridge hums like it's possessed, at 2 a.m. every morning. 

     "Okay, I have Downton Abbey ready to go on the TV, and Kung Pow Chicken in the microwave," Zayna's voice echoes victoriously as she emerges from the hall.  "How was work?"

     I shake off my shoes and toss my purse and jacket on the drop your problems off chair by the door.  "Tiring as always, but good...and interesting."  I say, remembering all that happened.

     My best friend stops in her tracks and lifts her brows curiously, "Interesting?  Interesting how?"

     I pause before answering because I know she's going to flip out.  "Uhh...Liam stopped by,"

    She looks as surprised as I was.  "Really?"  She can't hide the excitement in her voice or on her face.  Before I can get another word out, she quickly rounds the couch and settles in, "tell me more, give me all the details."

     "Well, we talked during my lunch break..."  I start off.

     "You let someone share your lunch break?" Her mouth drops open.  "That's not me?  Wow, miracles do happen. "

     I give her a look.

     "I'm just joking.  What did you talk about?"

     "College, his music, my brother, his dad...did you know he went to Juilliard?"

     "Juilliard?!  He never mentioned that to me!"

     "Yeah!  And he performs in a symphony now....a symphony!  But he's so humble about it, like excessively humble.  Oh, and his dad is a mathematics professor at guess where...Berkeley!"

     "No way!"  Zayna claps her hands against her mouth.

     "Yeah, and his mom's a piano teacher and got him started in music and he gets this huge smile on his face when he talks about it--" I stop, thinking of it.

     "You like him, don't you?"

     Her comment snaps me back into reality.  "I...I barely know him, Zayna," I argue, collecting myself.