Hi guys! This is my first try at writing a story on wattpad and I hope you guys will like it(: Please comment, vote and share, I would greatly appreciate it! I will be posting a new part every Saturday or Sunday. This story has not been edited, but I will read everyone's comments (If there are any ;_; i hope there will be!) and may fix it, depending on whether or not I can be bothered :P
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♪♫Ostinato♫♪
My fingers danced along ebony and ivory and the beautiful music wafted through the crisp spring air as the birds chirped and the river glistened, streaks of silver flitting in between it. I closed my eyes, lost in the perfect bliss that was music. Chords and notes echoed throughout the meadow.
For some reason, today Cameron--my step dad--was driving me to school. He tried to act nonchalant, but I saw right through his facade.
Something had happened.
"What happened?" I asked, voicing my thoughts. "Did someone die? Am I in trouble?"
He laughed nervously, but stopped abruptly when he saw my serious expression.
"April just had a doctor appointment, that's all," he said, averting his gaze from my cold, hard stare.
Liar.
He had hesitated just a bit too long before saying where April had gone. I sighed, deciding to leave it. April was my real mum, my real dad had left us. My dad left when I was at the tender age of 11, after my twin sister died, but she had never told me why. When I brought it up, she would subtly steer away from that sensitive topic. We would be talking about--well trying to talk about anyway--my dad and then before I knew it, we would be talking about whether I had a boyfriend yet. A year later mum had met Cameron, and things seemed better. But now, I would often come home to them arguing in the kitchen, and I could tell that they were trying to stay together for me.
The car came to a halt in the car park.
"Well, see you later," I said, waving.
"Bye Florence."
The Academy of Music and Performing Arts was a school for the artistically talented. The people that went there were rich, smart and beautiful.
Like Jordan.
There was only two minutes left before class started. Mr Morgan wouldn't mind, but I'd still feel bad if I was late to class. Just when I decided to run, someone tapped me on the shoulder.
Fuck, what now?
I turned around and wiped the annoyed face immediately.
Jordan Richardson.
He ran a hand through his course blonde hair, looking amused.
"Flora, is it?"
His gravelly voice penetrated through the gloom of the school hall, like a single beam of sunlight. Those blue-grey eyes studied mine, and he lifted an eyebrow, waiting for an answer.
"It's Florence," I replied flatly, giving him a cold stare. The corner of his lips pulled up into a smile.
"Well, Florence, I was wondering if I could talk to you?"
"I have to go to class," I muttered, turning my back to him, but before I could walk away, he grasped my wrist and whisked me around, pulling me close. I could smell his musky cologne and the cinnamon on his breath.
He stared at me through his rugged hair and flashed me a smile.
How could someone look that good?
