This Is My Story

||You have a problem Grace||

[Dedicated to ohyeahitsamanda for one of the most original and cool graphic]

C H A P T E R S E V E N

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I take a sip of my coffee and turn the page of my manual. I'm studying for my social-legal issues class and it's getting really interesting. My teacher isn't the best, but the book always tells it all about the subject. I have never understood people who complained about bad teachers that made their grades go down, all they need to do is to read about it. Books tell you everything you need: you just need to look for it. I once scored a 100 in trig without listening even once in class.

A hand appears in my line of sight and I look up, as Graham takes a seat in front of me and grabs my cup of coffee to take a sip of it. He winces and immediatly puts it down, pushing it away from him. I smile.

"What is this?" He exclaims. "I bet it's poisoned." He adds.

"How come am I not surprised that you can't handle real coffee?" I ask, shaking my head as him in disapproval.

"I don't personally consider espresso as real coffee." He argues, shrugging.

I look back down at my book as I hear him humming. My morning routine with Graham has become very comfortable: I'd come very soon at the Starbucks while Graham's uncle - who owns the place - is at the counter, will take a seat near the bay window and order an espresso which I won't have to pay. Graham will then come join me fifteen minutes later and will make a comment about my lack of taste in coffee. I'll read for an hour or so while he asks me stuff about math and I'll drive him to Prescott (or he'll drive me depending on the day) if we have class at the same time.

Graham and I has gotten closer since Hannah's appearance and I have learned to appreciate his company. I know now that he's a really good listener and story teller. His humor is very dark, but surprisingly I like it and he doesn't seem to ever judge people, which amazes me because no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to do the same. He's a really good influence on me and Jewels keep rambling about how we both will end up together sooner or later. I don't believe it much, not with how I treated him, but I do hope that he'll find a girl that knows how to cherish him, because he is truly a good guy.

I look up to him again and meet his green eyes. The corners of his lips suddenly lift up and he closes my book.

"You know what?" He says, grinning widely at me.

"What?" I ask, raising my eyebrow at him. He doesn't usually interrupt me while I'm studying.

"We should talk." He answers, still smiling.

I frown. I have to admit I was kind of expecting something a little bit more important than this platonic suggestion.

"What is your biggest, wildest, most impossible dream, Grace Campbell?" He asks in a theatrical way, leaning forward.

I stare at him blankly. I don't want to answer. As much as I love to spend time with him, I don't feel like we're close enough to talk about stuff like this: stuff that are important to me. I never speak about my dreams to anyone because it feels pretty personal to me, secret. I rack my head for something to say, but nothing comes.

"Okay I'll go first."He declares, taking my silence for indecision. "My biggest dream is to one day play in the NHL. I have always been a huge fan of hockey and I have always wanted to go to Canada and play in the league, but my parents obviously think that I'm being foolish. They want me to become something like a psychologist."

I think that his dream lacks a bit of ambition, of sense, but I stay quiet and nod. Dreams all have different images to everyone. He seems to read my mind - or he certainly has gotten this look a thousand times before. He sighs and leans back in his chair.