The Boy Band Who Adopted Me!

Chapter 11: Into the Garden of Talking Flowers

AN: Most accurate reference pic for Gav ever.

When I woke up in the morning and got dressed, Maisy was still sleeping. I guess she was a late riser. I teased my hair a little and put on my uniform. After pulling on my neon-laced black Vans and doing my eyeliner, I was out the door. On my way to Creative Writing, I was told to pick up an envelope at the lobby desk- it contained my locker number and combination, so I went there first.

318. I made sure my locker opened fine, then headed down the hall to my class. When I got there, Will was sitting in the back- his sleeves were rolled up like always, with his skinny tie hanging loose against his shirt. He was tapping a pen against his notebook; I took the empty seat in front of him and turned around to talk.

"Looking sharp, Will." He blushed and looked away when I said it; "Thank you," he murmured. He seemed to be hiding behind his glasses.

Creative Writing class went smoothly; the teacher gave us a syllabus and an assignment already. He asked us to write a poem about our favorite things.

When I was done, Will tapped me on the shoulder with his pen. "Can I read yours?"

"Only if I can read yours," I said in response.

"Deal." We shook hands, laughing, and exchanged notebooks.

Will had a way with words.

Every line seemed to be carefully constructed so that the syllables danced on the page. The words selected were of the artistic and beautiful sort, and they reminded me of an art gallery. As if a painter picking out the perfect color for the sky, Will picked out the perfect words to move me with. The poem was about music and friendship. All of our names appeared in it - Cody, Gavin, Jamie, Emmett, and even me. I smiled when I read:

Alex, quiet but always there
A snowflake in the frosty air
The dust of winter in my hair
Her charm surprising, her visage fair.

"My visage fair, huh?" I grinned. Will looked up from reading my poem, realizing what I said. "O-oh, uh-"

"You're adorable, Will. And a very good writer. I can see why all of the Hearts for Sharks songs are so good."

"Really?"

I passed his notebook back. "You give them a lot of depth. I bet they wouldn't have the same bite without you."

"You know," Will said, sitting forward with what seemed like shy hesitance, "Emmett may have been onto something asking you to write for us. This is just a dorky little first-day-of-school assignment and it's poetic enough to vocalize in a song." He tapped my notebook with his finger.

"Look at this line, and this one - this is magic. You'd bring a lot to our music." He looked up at me, and I watched the sincerity in his eyes with disbelief.

"You're blushing," he said softly. 

I quickly brought my hands to my cheeks - quite warm - and then buried my face in my hands. "Noooooooooooo," I moaned playfully, shaking my head. "I don't blush."

"Riiiight," Will said with a smile. The bell suddenly rang.

"Oh, we've gotta go, I have history all the way across the school," I said, packing my notebook into my bag. The little MCR keychain on my bag jingled against a gummi bear zipper pull as I slung my bag over my shoulder. Will and I awkwardly stood up at the same time from our seats, bumping shoulders.

"Sorry," Will said, scratching the back of his head and putting his bag on. I gave him the warmest smile possible to let him know it was fine. He visibly blushed, bid me a soft and kind goodbye, and watched me as I walked past him to leave the room. I'd have to make a quick stop at my locker to grab an empty notebook I'd forgotten...