chapter three [part two]>>background information

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Boyfriend? Did she just say she had to call her fucking boyfriend? She's gone now so I can't even ask if I heard her right, even though I know I did. How did I not know she was dating someone? Okay, well I guess I wouldn't really know because I am just her instructor, but still, I should of at least known something about her.

The music is way too fucking loud for me to concentrate so I kick the stereo over, which goes flying to the ground and breaks into fractions. The best solution I can come up with in this timed situation is to pay a visit to my only friend in a high place, Ashton.

"Ashton?" I ask before opening the door to his office.

"Hey." Ashton swings open the door to his small work space and brings me in for a half-hug. I smile at him and enter the room, plopping down in an oversized beanbag chair.

"What can I do for you today, mate?" Ashton asks with a knowing look, probably already guessing that I came here to get something out of him.

"I-well do you know a girl by the name of Cassandra Clayworth?" I ask him, fidgeting with my thumbs, while he quirks an eyebrow.

"Not sure, I could check her personal file, though." He says and I nod eagerly, the tip of my fingernail scratching along my neck as I wait for results, a nervous habit. Ashton continues to dig through a rusty silver filing cabinet that often squeaks when you even give it even the slightest push.

"Found it!" He calls out and pulls out a crisp folder from one of the top drawers. I smirk, swiping my tongue across my front teeth while doing so, and prop myself into a balanced position.

"Okay, well it has a bunch of shit listed about her; normal teenage life, grew up here, all that stuff." Ashton mumbles while scrolling through the page with his pointer finger. I nod for him to continue and he flips through the multiple pages filled with useless background information. My foot keeps tapping uncontrollably and Ashton is looking at me like I have some type of skin disease.

"Could you fill me in on what exactly you are looking for?" He asks, sighing and ruffling his hair.

"Does it list a boyfriend or anything?" I ask and he immediately laughs in my face, hard, sounding like a preteen girl.

"Are you serious? That's what this is all about?" He asks shaking his head with a disapproving look. I bite my bottom lip and hide my crimson cheeks with my palms.

"The only thing it says is that her emergency contact is someone named Calum," He says and pulls me up my hands.

"Now get out,"

"But can't you look up Ca-"

"Nope, that's enough illegal work for today." He says and slams the wooden door in my face, centimeters away from my nose.

"It's only illegal when you get caught!" I call out but he obviously already has his headphones on. I exhale deeply and walk down the hallway, hoping to run into Cass. That's when I remember that she takes guitar lessons at this time, I thought I saw a glimpse of that on her schedule in her folder, so hopefully I got the time right. I exhale over-dramatically and follow the path of rushing students to the end of the corridor.

I know I am in front of the right door when I can hear the relaxing melody of guitar chords melting together into a tune. I smile at the thought of Cassie playing a song on my guitar; maybe she would want private lessons from me? Stop stalling, I tell myself and wrap my hand around the metal of the door knob. The sight in front of me somewhat surprises me; Cassie is sitting by herself, the male teacher no where in eye range.

"Where's the teacher?" I ask Cassie, her head shooting up at the sound of my voice. She sees it's me, and a partial smile plays on her full lips.

"He was sick today, but I wanted to come in anyway." She says, lifting the strap of her guitar off from around her neck, and setting the wooden instrument on the tiled floor.

"I could teach you today, if you want?" I ask, trying not to look as eager for her answer as I actually am.

"No thanks, I think I can figure it out on my own." She chuckles, picking up the guitar and continuing her song. Her slim fingers skim over the strings perfectly, not missing a single beat.

"Man, is there anything you can't do?" I ask thinking of all her talents; singing, dancing, and now playing the guitar.

"I can't whistle," She says, her voice matching her embarrassed expression.

"Maybe I could teach you." I say in a fake seductive tone, along with a cheeky wink and get shooed out of the room in less than a second.

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