A/N: So I'm trying something in this chapter that I have NEVER DONE BEFORE: this chapter will be told from a different POV, and if it's not a total disaster, I'll probably implement this technique more often. :D
Let me know if you like the perspective change (: and thanks so much for reading.
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LOGAN'S P.O.V.
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THE NIGHT OF the party continually played through my mind, and I really didn't even want to go class the next morning. But the only thing that compelled my to go is that I wanted to talk to Berlin and get a feel of where we stood.
I knew that we had left off on a sour note and I really hoped that she didn't pick up on my bruised emotions. I mean, she was drunk right? She most likely didn't even know what she was saying then, and probably wouldn't even remember the next day. So it is safe to say that we have a clean slate.
Right?
I sat in my seat in what my dad called 'position two'; at the edge of of my chair, back straight, spine aligned nicely, music poised in my hands before me, ready to be sung. On the outside I looked cool, collected, and ready for anything, but on the inside I was the complete opposite.
My stomach was a mess and my limbs were really weak; needless to say I was a mess.
Where is she? It appealed to me that she just may not come in this morning; she was pretty wasted. Maybe she simply ccouldn't to drag her body out of bed; she probably had a massive hangover by that point.
Then to my surprise, in walked Berlin. Her curly hair was a mess and, since she was wearing no - and I mean absolutely no makeup - her brown skin was much paler than it had been the previous night.
She shuffled down the first four steps and took her seat beside me. She didn't even look at me.
Why did I even care? I barely even knew the girl.
Yes, while this was true, I was drawn to her. The second I saw her, one person's name came to my mind: Olivia. And I guess that is why I cared.
I watched Berlin holding her music sheet in her perfect hands, and as she took out a mechanical pencil and held it between her perfect dainty fingers and jotted down notes within the music to help her keep track. She took out a small black box from her leather satchel and pulled out a pair of black-rimmed glasses and slipped them onto her face after thoroughly cleaning the lenses.
She even wears glasses like she did.
Berlin caught me staring at her while everyone was singing, when I should have been paying attention. Ever so slightly, she shifted her eyes to the side and her head an inch or so in my direction.
I looked away quickly as if acting on instinct but then my conscious scolded me: isn't this what you wanted?, it questioned me. You wanted her attention, you were adamant about being sure you got the opportunity to clear the air with her and now here you are, avoiding confrontation?
I had a point.
I looked back up at Berlin just as she had begun to look away. She caught my gaze again, probably assuming that I would look away again; I didn't, I did not avert my eyes but held my ground, continuing to stare at her. She turned her entire face toward me and narrowed her eyes at me as if to say, what's up?
YOU ARE READING
Aftertaste [COMPLETED]
Teen FictionThey say there's no stronger force than friendship. Well, little do they know, lust is a force to be reckoned with. And when the two come together, the consequences... are deadly. Aftertaste. [COMPLETE] (Cover by @radifrah)