Grabbing Imogen's arm, I hauled her out of her seat in the cushioned chair and away from the laughing boys. She didn't give much complaint though. Rushing down the hallway, filled with rowdy teenagers, I walked as fast as I could towards the direction of the washroom.
Breathing hard, I felt my face heat up unbelievably. Imogen's tinkling laughter made me deadpan as I glanced back at her.
Giving me a sheepish look, she shrugged apologetically and carried on with being amused by my ridiculous situation.
Upon seeing the entrance to the bathroom, I rushed towards it with long strides in my John Fluevog-clad foot. Placing my hands upon either side of the porcelain sink, I dropped my head and breathed in and out deeply.
I felt a hand descend on my back and I relaxed as calming, soothing circles were drawn. Reaching a calmer state, I looked back up to see Imogen giving me a grin.
"You so like him," she said with a laugh and I nodded.
"Immy, I've known that for the longest time. I've had a crush on him since kindergarten, during the Canada Day Parade. He personally sought me out to give me a candy when he wasn't even supposed to be handing out candy. This isn't a matter of me being oblivious to my feelings. It's a matter of me acknowledging the fact that he's a player and the fact that I shouldn't have anything to do with him. I have a major crush on a player and he is the type of guy that can't settle for one flavor at the ice cream shop. He needs to test every flavor in that shop. I just don't know if I'm tiger-tiger, bubble gum, or vanilla," I said insightfully, making Imogen raise her eyebrows.
"He likes you too, Aubs. It's irritatingly obvious. You're that couple that everyone wants to make out so that we're not surrounded with the sexual tension that you continually produce and exude," she added, making me groan and lower my head back into the sink.
"We should probably get to class then," I said, blowing what she said off. Taking a deep breath in, I felt my resolve strengthening.
"I'm going to pretend that he didn't affect me when he squeezed my ass. I'm going to go into that classroom and not give any reaction to him," I said, talking myself up.
Imogen just laughed as we exited the bathroom. Walking down the hallway with oozing confidence. I held my hand up and as we passed the bus clan in the hallway, I offered no response to the leering boys. Imogen just continued to laugh at my expense, much to my dismay.
Reaching my locker on the second floor, I quickly put my code in—10-20-10—and yanked on the thing, pulling it open. Meticulously placing my English binder at the bottom under my purple shelf, I grabbed a pencil and my music folder.
I then looked down at my shirt.
"Oh fuck," I muttered, staring down in disbelief. Music is going to be oh so much fun—note the sarcasm. The instrument I play—the baritone saxophone—has a harness that you have to wear. It's bad enough if you're a girl. But it's ten times worse if you're a girl that happens to have big tits.
"What?" Imogen asked, giving me a sidelong glance.
"I play the Bari sax and this is the shirt I'm wearing. Shit," I said, making her grin.
"That's tough luck," she said, but just by looking at her expression, I could tell she didn't think it was tough at all. In fact, I am almost certain she thinks it's great that I'm getting male attention because I stay at home and write. That's just my thing.
"Mm," is all I said in response. Moving towards the music classroom in the corner of the hallway, I pushed the door open with a slight push. The door swung open and when I entered the classroom, there was boisterous laughter.
The guys were all standing around Shawn who was trying and failing to put his harness on correctly. Rolling my eyes, I moved over to the centre of the room where the chairs and music stands were and I claimed my chair with my music folder. Moving back to the space to set up our instruments, I sighed and shook my head before heading towards my instrument case.
"Hey Babe? I have un question pour toi?" Adrian said in a grandiose fashion with arms spread high above his head. Deadpanning, I shrugged and moved around Shawn who was still struggling with arms flailing. His buckles were done up the wrong way.
Nodding, I gestured for him to shoot a question.
"What are the odds that you let Danny have a boob-handshake with your girls?" I scoffed and stared at Adrian who was wiggling his eyebrows. Shaking my head, I sighed and contemplated.
"One in one hundred thousand," I said finally and they whooped.
"One, two, three: five-hundred and seventy-two."
"One, two, three: five-hundred and eighty-two."
My eyes were wide and I let out a slow breath of relief. That was so close.
"Will you reconsider your odds?" Shawn said with a smirk—or maybe it was a grimace. I'm not quite sure to be honest.
"Not a chance in hell," I said and the guys shared a knowing glance and for the first time since I entered the room, Danny made eye contact.
"For someone who is so fond of technicalities, that was a major fail," he said and realization smacked me in the face.
"Fuck," I said with a splutter.
"I say you have to do one more because you didn't say no. You said, "Not a chance in Hell," but we are not in fact in Hell," Danny said smartly.
I think it's the first intelligent thing he's said all day.
"Fine. I will do fifty thousand. That's twice the odds for you." Danny nodded, satisfied with my answer.
"One, two, three: Seven."
"One, two, three: Two hundred four."
I grinned triumphantly and I couldn't help but notice Shawn had a slight smile gracing his mouth. Danny's face held a frown and the rest of the guys were booing.
Rolling my eyes, I continued on with the process of getting my Bari sax set up. Placing my reed on my tongue, I moistened it and the guys' eyes widened.
"Danny. She's sucking on wood and it ain't yours," Adrian said in a loud voice. My face blossomed with heat and I shook my head with eyes wide. Although, my shoulders shook with poorly hidden amusement.
After my saxophone was set up, I put my harness on and I grimaced, not liking the way the guys watched my every move. Covering my chest slightly with my saxophone, I made my way to my spot and sat down promptly. Students were now steadily streaming through the classroom door.
Closing my eyes, I channeled Charles Mingus. Placing my fingertips over the white keys, I slowly took a deep breath in with my stomach and played a quick run through my Bb blues scale. Sliding my tuner to a more suitable place on my stand, I sustained the first note in the blues scale and frowned when I noticed it wasn't quite in tune. Making the adjustments needed, I sustained the note once more and it was perfect.
Humming the song Moaning in my head, I nodded my head in approval. I licked the reed—an action that had become a habit—and music poured from my instrument.
Happiness filled every orifice of my being and the memorization of Moaning was going well. I was actually quite impressed with myself to be frank.
The chair beside me scraped the carpeted floor, but I continued playing through the momentary distraction.
Music. Music is one of my favourite things in the world and without it, the world is a barren place; it is void of sound, filled only with silence. The world would be a sad, desolate place.
Continuing to play the memorized piece, I heard the sounds of tuning abruptly halt. My fingers flew over different keys in alternate combinations and when the silence became too much to bear, I ended my song short, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
"She's much better than you are, Shawn." A crashing sound erupted around the room and I turned around to see none other but Adrian on the drum kit.
Ba dumb tss.
"How were you playing that? I took your music away about twenty seconds ago," Danny said in awe. Shrugging, I slumped in my seat, not comfortable with playing anymore.
"Obviously it was memorized. I also wasn't reading the music to begin with. If you look, the music you took away was our class piece." I tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear and sat in silence.
"Aubrey! You've been practicing your jazz band assignment! Imogen? Have you?" I sighed as our music teacher Mr. (Seymour) Napageorgio—otherwise known as Mr. N—entered the classroom.
"Yes, I have, but Aubrey is far further than I have gotten if what she just played is any indication," Imogen said, adjusting the neck strap to her alto saxophone.
Mr. N. smiled and moved to the front of the room with flamboyance that would leave any drama major jealous.
The room fell into silence and I sat there, completely distracted with the fact that Danny was sitting beside me with his trumpet sitting on his knee.
"Aubrey, why do you hate me?" My head snapped to face him and I'm sure my expression showed that of disbelief. Is that what he really thought? He really couldn't be more wrong.
"Danny, I don't hate you."
"Yes you do." I scowled at him and arched a condescending brow.
"Don't tell me how I feel. I don't hate you. You just aggravate me exceptionally and sometimes I don't know how to deal with it," I answered as more and more people entered the classroom. We were plunged into an uncomfortable silence. Sweat built up under my arms and on the back of my neck and I squirmed, not liking the awkward silence settling over us.
"Prove that you don't hate me." I scoffed and met his bright blue eyes. I subtly gulped, getting rid of the excess saliva that had built up and I cleared my throat. Danny had since leaned forward slightly and I stopped breathing accidentally.
"How?" I could tell the answer surprised Danny because he let out a breath of surprise. He thought about it for a second and then he gave me a sheepish grin.
"Kiss me." I rolled my eyes and folded my arms over my chest. His eyes followed their movement and his gaze lingered on my chest before he met my green eyes once more.
"Kissing you proves that I don't hate you? How does that correlate?" I was completely baffled. This guy is unbelievable.
"You wouldn't kiss me if you hated me."
"And I wouldn't kill you if I liked you. Therefore I must like you to some degree because you aren't in fact dead," I said sarcastically and Danny blushed.
"You dream about killing me?" he asked curiously and I chuckled sardonically.
"Who said anything about dreaming?" At that, Danny shut up. I thought about what I was saying before the words left my lips.
"But to be honest, I actually do like—"
"Okay class. We're going to start with our concert Bb. Jaden? Can you play your sustained note, please? Oh and Danny? Get back to your spot. You are not a Bari sax." Danny pouted, but got up anyways. He suddenly stooped to whisper in my ear.
"You are finishing that sentence at the end of class." He left no room for an argument because he was already moving away to the trumpet section.
A sinking feeling made me suddenly feel queasy. What the fuck did I just get myself into?