Pretty Rich Boys

part viii.

The music flows in and out of me like an ocean tide, flooding in and ebbing out over and over again. My eyes flutter close as I move my hand up and down the neck of the violin, feeling the music inside my chest like a flower. I feed it, nurture it, love it and then watch it grow. 

A slight breeze flows through the room from the open windows, hitting my freshly shaved legs and cooling my flushed skin. My neighbourhood was use to my playing and my music as long as stopped before seven o'clock in the evening. It was a fair compromise. 

And I doubt they'd have an issue with a violin cover of "Lovely" on a hot Friday afternoon. 

I couldn't believe that I had actually made it through a full week of classes at Briarwood Prep. I also couldn't believe I had lived through all those days without at least slapping someone who was whispering about me. I hated all the stares and rumours that were circulating. 

It's like I have my own damn fan club—especially when someone took it open themselves to find out what my father does for work and spread it around the school. I didn't really care about that if I'm being honest. My dad was a fucking great nurse through and through. 

But as a result of the stares and the constant knowledge of people talking behind my back, I began distancing myself from Auggie and Sebastian. Quinn was there too but it wasn't that hard to distance myself from him since all he did was look at me like I was some sort of maths calculation he couldn't figure out. 

The other two, however, was a little trickier. I would literally gap it in the other direction when I saw Sebastian in the halls and I was ignoring most of Auggie's phone calls and texts. I had been locking myself in the sound proof rooms during lunch because I knew he'd be hunting me down. 

Avoiding Scott, however, was a piece of cake. It was like he was avoiding me too. Twinsies. 

Our apartment had one extra room which was suppose to act as a tiny study but we had turned it into my music room. I had most of my favourite instruments in here and I loved the huge windows that let in so much natural light. Being on the fifth floor meant the surrounding buildings didn't block out the sun. 

I continue to play the song, my fingers moving as easy as if I was just breathing. When I was little, I saw a lot of child psychologist and even a few psychiatrist to figure out how my brain could pick up on playing instruments so easily. No one could come up with anything so my parents just let me be. 

They bought me all the instruments I wanted even though I knew we were financially struggling. Dad would take me to all my lessons and Mom would pick me up on her way home from work. She used to worked as a Classical Music professor at Juilliard which is where most people think I got my talent from. 

Suddenly, my phone starts ringing from my bedroom down the hall. I screw my nose up slightly as I continue to play, trying not to get distracted by it. But it doesn't last long.