BAYLOR
"Do you like waffles?" I ask without turning around. Somewhere behind me, Char sets down the box she is unpacking.
"Just how weird do you think I am?" She asks accusingly. "Of course I do."
"So, I assume you brought a waffle maker then?" I inquire. She pauses.
"Um, no, actually."
"So you don't really love them then." I say smugly.
"You didn't ask if I loved them, Bay Boy. Only if I merely liked them." She trumps.
"Touché, Princess. Luckily for you, my perfection reaches beyond my beauty, intelligence and creativity. In that box over there, the one on top of your 'bones', is a Death Star shaped waffle maker, a quad toast toaster, and a high power food processor as seen on TV."
"Quad toast toaster." She mocks under her breath before she makes her way to the box. "I didn't pin you as the kind of guy that spends a lot of time in the kitchen."
"That's because i'm a man, Char." I grin.
"How old are you anyway?"
"I'm 22. Yourself?"
"I'm 21." She pushes the waffle iron towards me and begins to cut through the big box.
"You're finally going to let me see what's actually in there?" I ask excitedly.
"Don't be too disappointed." She rolls her eyes before pulling put a piano keyboard, seat and stand.
"That? That is what was so heavy?" I gasp. I'm really losing my man power.
"Partially. I also have like 20 various books shoved in here as well." She giggles. I walk over and help her set it up in the corner.
"May I?" I ask, and she gestures to the seat.
"This should be good." She grins devilishly.
I run my fingers along the keys to warm up, and begin with a soft intro that catches even myself by surprise. I can feel Char almost touching me, and I look up to see her eyes glued to me. I grin as I shift the light music into some ACDC, grinning up at her with Baylor authenticity. As I come to a close, she gives a small clap.
"Good thing it has an auxillary cord." She smirks.
"Okay, okay, so i'm a little scratchy." I shrug.
"I am a little surprised, honestly. That really was good. Do you have to own me up in everything?" She replaces me on the seat and begins to play softly.
"My mom tried to put me in piano when I was 8." I confess suddenly. "I enjoyed it, but my dad quickly pulled me out of lessons, saying HIS son was going to have calluses, not dainty fingers. So I would practice at school. I would skip homeroom and lunch just to get in there."
"You're such a rebel. I'm starting to like you." Char laughs with a grin, but returns back to serious. "I wasn't the daughter my stepmom wanted either. Except for the opposite reasons."
"When did you start playing?"
"I think I was officially 16."
"Oh, official huh?" I laugh as she swats at me.
"I mean, we had a piano in our living room, and when my mom played I would kind of play around with her. I didn't have lessons nor did I practice, it was just something I did for fun with her. After she passed, I didn't touch it for a year. But then I decided that if I learned how, maybe I could keep her presence in the house. And at the time, I wanted to start a band." Her hands have ceased moving.
YOU ARE READING
Roomies
Teen Fiction"Who the hell are you!" I yell and begin marching towards him and shove him away. "Why the hell are you in my apartment?" I shove him again, though it doesn't do much good. He holds his hands up in surrender. "Hey easy there! This is my apartment t...
