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I see Adam crossing the street without an umbrella, he's soaking wet. I run up to him and cover him with my umbrella. "Hey, Adam!" I say, in my Aussie accent. He notices me. He said something, but I couldn't hear him. I took off my earphones which were blasting Enchanted by Taylor, smiled, and asked "What did you say?". He replied with his always-stern face. "Thanks, I hate the rain." His stern face made it seem like he didn't even mean it. "What!? Who could hate the rain? You're so boringgg" I whined, knowing it would make him chuckle at least a bit. And he did. His smile was beautiful. Maybe because I don't see it often, I felt that way. But either way, it's amazing. "I guess I like it now," he said, which I laughed for, of course. I checked my phone and realized we were gonna be late for school. "We're gonna be late, let's go!". When we were about to part ways for class, "I got English, what about you?" Adam asked. "I got math, I hate math!" I said, before walking through the hallway for my class. Adam followed, with his hands in his pockets. "Aren't you cold? You're soaking wet," I asked, concerned. "No," he replied. Again, with the same nonchalant expression. Sometimes I feel like everyone is annoyed about me, but that still doesn't stop me from talking. I just can't seem to stop. "Well, see you second period!" I waved and smiled, hoping to get a reaction from him. He smiled a bit and waved back.
Soon after the first period, I made my way to art class with Adam since we had the same class. In art class, we were assigned to paint our dreams in the most creative representation possible. I turned to Adam and asked him, "What's your dream?". He replied without turning back to me, saying, "Probably to start a business". "That's so boring, Adam! You should ask me about my dream!" I said, smiling. "What's your dream?" he asked, finally turning to me and raising one eyebrow. "I really wanna become an author! I wanna be that type of author who can predict the future! Like whatever happens in my book would happen in real life. Wouldn't that be so cool?" I replied, hoping to get some reaction from him. "Cool," he replied, lowering his eyebrow "And what type of book would that be? A fantasy? Or perhaps... a murder book?". I stayed silent for some time, thinking. "Not murder! I enjoy reading and writing murder, but, not if it would come true. That would be tragic, wouldn't it?" I replied. "You like murder books?" He asked, finally engaging in a conversation with me, properly. "Yeah! Why not?" I asked. "Well, you don't seem the type to read murder books, let alone write them," he said. I felt like he was judging me but just shrugged it off. For the rest of the art class, we engaged in small talk. We were close friends but his avoidant nature made it hard for me to continue a conversation. He always cut it short. But, I couldn't have it any other way, since I get to do most of the talking. He's my best friend, and I think I'm his too, considering he doesn't have any other close friends, except me.
