All I'm Asking

Allegretto

   If you missed curfew, I'd worry. Funny how one little phrase can haunt you. All week his tinted cheeks and intense eyes burned in my mind. His voice sounded as serious as an old fashioned fire and brimstone service. Stop thinking about him. My phone beeped. I hope it's Brett. I said stop thinking about him! My heart beat faster than usual as checked my phone.

Brett: "Hey. We're coming over tonight to help you with Aural Skills."
Y/N: "Says who?"

   Before I realized what I was doing, I caught myself grinning like someone who'd never had her heart broken. How can you entertain this? You know how this is going to end.
  
Brett: "Me. You've worked too hard to fail now."

   I stared at my phone caught between the desire to be vulnerable and the fear of being seen. What have you done? I know I've allowed this to go on too far. I know that I need to end all of this. But I can't bring myself to do it. Selfishly, I allow this to go on. Why? I allow all of this to keep spiraling because I want to have friends, because I want to feel like someone cares about me, because I want to be believed in. If I'm honest with myself I'm not thinking about what's best for the boys anymore. I'm giving into my own selfish desires.
   Yet, I enter my room and survey my closet. I chose a cream dress with a white collar. The dress falls just below my knees. I slip on my black leather jacket, and my brown oxfords. I pull my hair up into a bun, and try to convince myself that there's more than one ending to this story.

   As promised the boys came to my appartement. They brought take out so that I wouldn't have to cook and we hit the books. Eddy mostly helped me find the pitches if I stumbled a little. Brett untangled the rhythms in my head. I mostly learned that Eddy doesn't really have a lot of patience. However, Brett is extremely patient. That's attractive. Stop. That's not what you should be thinking about right now. Or ever, if we're being honest. They actually made studying really fun. Back home I absolutely despised doing my aural skills homework because it took me all weekend. Is it possible that I might not always struggle with aural skills? Is it possible that I might someday actually understand?
   "So, how do you feel?" Brett seemed to have a much easier time looking into my eyes.
   "Mentally and emotionally exhausted. But in the morning I'll probably feel that I've been very productive this weekend." My mind felt like a London Fog.
   "I understand. I hope I was able to help explain the rhythm better for you."
   "I feel like I understand it better now. But I always think that."
   "Text me tomorrow morning and let me know if you still understand it."
   "Yeah, I'll message you for sure."
   "I'm terrible at checking my Instagram. Give me your phone."
   "Why?"
   "Here." Brett typed a few things into my phone and handed it back to me."

Bretty Bang

   "What is this?" I stared down at the new contact with a little more judgement than I should have.
   "It's my phone number. So you can text me in the morning."
   "Why don't you text me in the morning?"
   "Trust me. I would. But someone wouldn't give me their number, now would they?"
   "Fair enough. Give me your phone." I also chose a nickname that I thought was cute.

The Girl with the Groceries.

   "The Girl with the Groceries. I like it."
   "Good."
   "I'll text you in the morning."
   "Mmhmm."
   "Trust me. I will."
   I drifted into a deep sleep pondering all of the things Brett could potentially text me in the morning. The safe thing to do would have been to tell myself that he wouldn't text me and believe it. But all I could think about was all the different texts I might wake up to. So as the rest of the world lie tucked into bed.