Bleed Purple, Live Gold

Part 2

It's a relief to get out of the August heat into the air-conditioned lobby of the French House. It's only 8:50, and it feels like the temperature is nearing the upper 90s. The lobby is beautiful with ten foot tall French doors all around leading outside, a long hallway across from the door I just entered leading to the first floor rooms and an elevator I hope, and cute couches and chairs grouped around the lobby. For some strange  reason, they've mixed French prints and paintings with framed pictures of Mike the Tiger on the walls. My eyes land on a bank of computers to the right,and I hurry over to give FedEx my new address. I only have two more boxes of things to add to my room, but they are important. I bought a laptop for class and a few other things for school. I'm saving my real shopping for when I get a job. My schedule will be brutal trying to balance class, a job, and my reinvented life each semester.

I turn from the computers to look for the elevator when I spot a grand piano in a sunny corner of the room.I don't know how I missed it as it looks shiny and well cared for.I'm drawn to it like a moth to a flame, and before I remember moving,I am seated on the bench caressing the keys lightly with my fingers.I love music. I admire people who work hard enough to become proficient in an instrument of any kind, but if I had to choose one instrument to learn it would be the piano. Or the violin. Or percussion. Before I get too deep into my wish list, I take a look around the deserted lobby. No one seems to be coming in here from outside, and I don't hear anyone moving around. I take that as a sign that I can have a quick air piano session before going to my room. I close my eyes and imagine myself on stage at Carnegie Hall. I play a Vivaldi medley for the crowd before launching into my own compositions. I'm used to having conversations in my head and getting wrapped up in my imagination. Sometimes my head was the only safe place for me growing up. I shake my head a little to pull myself from those thoughts. I'm free now.

As I finish my imaginary concert with a flourish, I hear the start of a slow clap that quickly brings me back to reality. My eyes fly open to see a boy leaning against the end of the piano clapping and staring at me. Whoa. What. Are. His. Eyes. He has wavy dark brown hair, a lean build judging by how his button up shirt fits his frame, and flawless hands with long fingers. But nevermind all of that. His eyes are on fire.

He stops clapping and smirks at me a little. "That was a wonderful performance. Would you mind telling me what you were playing?"

I think my face is the same color as the bricks on the outside of the building. "Um, a little Vivaldi,"I say quietly. Ugh, Sang. No mouse voice. We're trying to start over here.

His eyes get even more intense at that answer. "You'll have to play it for me again sometime. I'm Victor.What's your name?"

"Well, only the first performance is free. I'll have to charge you for the next one. I'm Sang," I say giving him my warmest smile. His eyes widen a little and his face becomes unreadable. Hmm, note to self: dial the warm smile down.

He blinks a few times and then looks at my suitcase where I left it behind the piano bench. "Do you need help finding your room? Are your parents here?" he asks.

"I know I'm assigned to a room on the third floor, so you could really just point me to the elevator," I say avoiding the question about my parents.

"There is no elevator in this building. I know all of the students staying here. All of us moved in last week, and we had movers then. Since you only have this suitcase, I'll help you carry it up. You should probably go shopping for more stuff though. They leave the rooms bare at the beginning of each semester for new students. There is only a bed, desk, closet with shelves, and a sink in your room."

"I have more things being shipped tome, but you're right about the store. Do you know if there is a store within walking distance of campus?" I ask. We're moving towards the long hallway at this point. "I also wanted to talk to the RA about the bathroom situation. At the Pentagon, I would have had a private bathroom to share with my one roommate. It sounds like they're communal here?"