The 18th Shade Of Summer (Fractured Script Series #1)

CHAPTER 13

The moment I woke up, I went straight to the kitchen and boiled water for coffee. It was early. I waited by the counter, holding the mug in both hands as the warmth slowly crept into my fingers.

I didn't drink right away. I needed a bit more time to feel awake or to feel like myself again.

Today was supposed to be for studying. The Qualifying Examination was in a few days, and I hadn't covered enough. I told myself I'd start with the easier subjects first, the ones I was confident in, before moving on to the ones I always struggled with.

I glanced toward the wall that divides my unit and Akiro's place. No sounds so I think he probably wasn't up yet.

I started setting the table, placing my laptop, my reviewer printouts, and a pen. Everything was arranged neatly, like I had control over today.

Before I could begin, I reached for my sticky notes. I picked a light green one, his favorite color, and wrote,

"Play soft music when you wake up :>"

I stared at it for a second before getting up and walking outside. The hallway was cool. I pasted the note on his door, pressing the edges down flat with my fingers.

Then I went back in.

I sat down again, opened the reviewer, and took a breath. I already knew this would be a long morning. Half an hour passed. Maybe more. I wasn't really checking the time.

While I was in the middle of reviewing a formula, a loud Japanese rock song exploded through the wall. It was so sudden and so loud, I thought of something short-circuited in my brain. My pen slipped. My heart jumped. It felt like a club just opened beside me.

I stared at my screen in disbelief. Then I stood up. I didn't even hesitate.

I stormed out, marched to his door, and knocked—no, pounded—hard. "Akiro!"

The blue sticky note I left was gone so I knew he saw it.

'Was he seriously messing with me?'

I knocked again, harder this time. Finally, the door swung open. His hair was a mess, sticking out in all directions like he had just finished headbanging. His face was red from laughing, or maybe dancing, and his shirt was a little off-center. But the worst part was that smile. Wide and childlike, like nothing in the world was wrong.

I stood there, arms crossed, glaring at him.

"Elaine—"

"Didn't I tell you to play soft music?" I snapped, raising my voice over the blaring guitars still echoing from inside.

His grin faltered. Just a little. His shoulders dropped and his eyes shifted, almost like a reflex.

"I'm reviewing right now!" I added, frustrated and exhausted and just done with all of it.

He held up his hands like a kid caught in the act.

"Sorry," he said, smile now thin and forced.

Then, without another word, he spun around and ran back inside. The music stopped after a few clicks, followed by silence. Not even footsteps.

He came back to the doorway, hands in his pockets now, trying to look casual.

"I didn't know you were reviewing," he said. His voice was lighter than before, like he was trying to brush it off.

But I wasn't letting it slide.

"So what if you didn't know?" I asked, staring at him. "I literally left a note on your door, first thing this morning, to play soft"

He looked at the floor. Then back at me.