Chord ✔️

Chapter 33

Chord

Dean Campbell is a fucking asshole. He thinks he can walk in on me playing, looking all smug like that, and talk to me about my dad? He doesn't know shit about my dad, he can fuck off. I've seen him play, and he isn't half the drummer my dad is. I think their career choices speak for themselves, right? My dad is the most successfully drummer on the planet, and Shaun Campbell teaches. That old saying 'those who can't do, teach' springs to mind, and I actually relax a little as I burst out of the exit of the Music Building and into the parking lot.

That incident was four days ago now, and I'm still pissed about it. So much so that I actually went into the Music Building just now with intentions of spray painting some graffiti on the walls. But that's lame, I'm not a little kid, and I don't have any spray paint. So obviously I didn't do it. I think I came over here in hopes of bumping into Dean Campbell so that I could glare at him or trip him over or something. Whatever, moment of madness over, I'm out of here.

I wanna smoke, and I wouldn't mind a drink either. Why the fuck didn't I drive over here? Walking is a waste of time. Time that could be spent getting fucked up.

I sigh to myself as I walk down the stone steps outside the Music Building, because I know what's really gotten me so frustrated these past few days, and it has nothing to do with Dean Campbell. It's her. What the fuck was I thinking last Sunday!? When all I planned on doing was going to the Art Building to look at her painting of my tattoo sleeve again. I didn't plan on seeing her or talking to her, and I sure as fuck did not plan on playing the drums for her. The hell was I thinking!? I shake my head violently as I storm across the quad, destined for the dorms. It's a quick walk, but I'm impatient. I need to relax. I need some weed.

"Yo! Logan!" I turn my head around and see Drake driving out of the parking lot with some of the guys from the basketball team. He's rolled his window down to talk to me, so I approach the car.

"School at this time of night? You feeling okay, dude?" Drake's teammate Tristan asks me from the passenger seat. The guys all laugh and I roll my eyes at his comment. It is after 6, I have no good reason for being here.

"I could say the same for you guys." I come back, even though I know they were over here practising. They're all wearing their gym clothes.

"Seriously, dude, what are you doing here?" Drake asks me lightly. It is unlike me to spend more time on campus than necessary. I run a hand through my hair, desperately trying to come up with some explanation for why I'm here. Then it hits me.

"Weed guy." I say, and the guys all nod their understanding. I don't have a weed guy in North Bridge, because luckily for me Penn was happy enough to let me buy weed from him. He always tries to reject my money, actually, but I don't let him. I have more than enough money to pay for my own weed, I don't need a free ride. I know Penn isn't exactly looking for the money of course, but pride and all.

"Cool. You coming for a smoke right now?" Drake asks casually, raising his eyebrows at me. I'm not in the best of moods, I kinda wanted to smoke on my own but fuck it, these guys are cool. I accept the offer.

Riding out to the Estate with Drake and his friends was actually a really good idea. Tristan sparked up a joint in the car and passed it around, Drake turned his music up and we all joked around a little. That five minute ride was pretty much exactly what I needed, and as I walk into Thornton House behind Drake and the guys, I feel ten times better than I did a half hour ago. I feel mellow, and pretty much completely back to my usual self.

"You wanna play some ball with us, Logan?" Tristan asks while wiggling his eyebrows at me and shooting a basketball out to me from his chest. I catch it on reflex and he laughs, impressed. He didn't expect me to catch it. I toss it right back to him and decline. I cannot shoot hoops worth a damn when I'm wearing jeans, and I'm far too chilled out for that now anyway.