Love Notes

Morning Bell

The morning bell rang, and Emma tore her gaze away from Leo, reluctantly bringing her attention to Mrs. Wilson, who had just entered with her usual stern expression. There was a brief murmur among the students before Mrs. Wilson silenced it with a look that meant business.

"Good morning, class," she greeted, her voice managing to sound both welcoming and unyielding. "I hope you all had a summer filled with adventure and relaxation. Now, let's dive back into literature, where the true adventure awaits."

Emma did her best to appear attentive, nodding along and dutifully scribbling a few words onto her notebook. But no matter how hard she tried to focus, her thoughts kept floating back to Leo, still sitting in the back, as if he were watching a different movie in his own private theater. What was it about him?

Emma had always been surrounded by Oakwood's "it" crowd: athletes, cheerleaders, and the occasional ambitious student government member. People who thrived on public attention, the thrill of the spotlight. Leo was none of those things. He was an outsider, completely absorbed in his own world of music, unbothered by who was looking or who wasn't. She glanced over again and saw him, focused, brow furrowed, writing furiously in a notebook that looked as worn as an old jazz record. Was he taking notes on Mrs. Wilson's lecture? Or was he scribbling lyrics, ideas, something wildly interesting she couldn't even imagine?

She caught herself staring and quickly looked down. Get it together, Em! she thought. You're Emma Bailey, Oakwood's head cheerleader. You do not gawk over mysterious jazz musicians.

The bell finally rang, jolting her out of her thoughts. She packed her things more slowly than usual, letting the classroom clear out until only a few stragglers were left. Steeling herself, she walked toward the back row, her heart thudding with an uncharacteristic excitement.

"Hey, Leo," she said, trying her best to sound casual, as if she just happened to wander over to the back corner of the room. "I, uh, I noticed we're in the same class."

Leo looked up in surprise, adjusting his glasses. Up close, Emma could see little flecks of green in his otherwise dark brown eyes. "Oh, um, yeah," he replied, glancing around as if checking that she was, in fact, talking to him. "Emma, right?"

"That's right." She flashed her warmest, most confident smile, which normally would've had anyone at ease. But Leo only looked more flustered.

"I don't think we've actually talked before," he said, almost apologetically, pushing his glasses up. "I mean, I mostly... I kind of keep to myself."

"Well, that's fine!" Emma replied quickly, hoping he didn't notice the way her voice cracked. "I just thought I'd say hi. I mean, I've heard great things about you from, you know, the music side of the school." She was rambling now, and she knew it. "I mean, you're the jazz band's star player, right? Pretty impressive."

Leo's cheeks flushed a faint pink, and he scratched the back of his neck. "Oh, well, I wouldn't say 'star.' I just... I play the trumpet. The music is what's great, not me."

"I'm sure you're being way too modest," she replied. "Maybe you could, I don't know, show me sometime? I don't know a thing about jazz, honestly, but I'd love to learn."

Leo's eyes widened. He seemed to lean back slightly, almost as if he was trying to disappear into the wall. "Oh. Um... I guess we could... maybe during lunch or... yeah, lunch?" he stammered, still looking slightly dazed.

Emma felt a thrill of excitement, barely able to contain her grin. "Today?" she asked, her tone light but hopeful. "I'm free during second period."

Leo blinked, nodding uncertainly. "Uh, yeah, sure. I... I could show you the band room. Nobody's usually in there around that time."

"Perfect! It's a date!" Emma said, already mentally planning what she might wear—something casual but still cute, of course. She gave him a small wave, and as she walked out of the room, she could feel her heart practically floating. She made her way into the hallway, fighting the grin that threatened to take over her face.

It felt like the start of something, something unexpected. Here she was, Emma Bailey, Oakwood's head cheerleader, maybe heading into uncharted territory: the jazz room. And with Leo of all people. Leo, who lived in a world where syncopated beats and minor chords held the secrets of the universe, while her own world was timed to cheers, backflips, and the occasional pep rally.

As Emma joined the bustling hallway, she felt an undeniable sense of anticipation, a feeling she hadn't felt in ages. Could she learn jazz? She had no idea. But the idea of exploring it, especially with Leo, felt like an invitation to step into a new world, to stretch beyond her routine.

As she headed toward her next class, her thoughts drifted to the afternoon ahead, wondering if she'd hear Leo play. She imagined him, brows furrowed in concentration, trumpet gleaming under the dim band room lights. Would it be something lively and flirtatious, like "A Night in Tunisia"? Or maybe slow and haunting, like "Autumn Leaves"? The thought made her heart race.

Watch out, Emma Bailey, she thought, a mischievous grin breaking through. This year might just be your own jazz solo.