The Heart broken Heart Breaker Travis X Reader

Chapter 19

I was looking forward to lunch this morning because I 'd been itching to have a word with Travis.

He was unusually quiet on our way to school. He didn't seem like himself when he gave me quick kisses in between classes.

There was something about him that seemed off.

It had been a week since the day we started officially "date," a week since he asked me to meet his mother. He said that his mom was waiting for her schedule to clear.

_

The last few days had been uneventful. Everyone was starting to become busier so we hadn't been able to hang out after class lately, but Travis and I would occasionally drop by a dinner so I wouldn't have to eat dinner alone.

He was quickly becoming a part of my life. I'd also grown used to reading him, and what I gathered this morning, there was definitely something bothering him. I decided I'd ask him what it was once Literature class was over.

When my last class for the morning block finally ended, I was ready to bolt out of the classroom, but Miss. Aphmau suddenly called out my name, making me stop in my tracks half away to the door.

"May I talk to you?"

I took a few tentative steps back to her desk. "Yes?"

I was pretty sure I wasn't failing literature--it was my favorite subject-- and I couldn't think of anything I could have done of her to suddenly seek me out.

"I've printed a few of your works." She walked from behind her desk, holding a bunch of papers in one hand. Was she going to accuse me of plagiarism? Before I could figure out how to react, she said, "These are really good."

My thoughts came to abrupt halt. "Oh."

"Are you part of any writing clubs at school?"

I shook my head.

"No?" she said incredulously. "You should be. These are really good. I especially like the second Poem."

I wasn't sure how to react to this. I've always love reading because my father did, too. Over time. I'd grown to love words, but I never thought I was never good at writing. It was just something I happened to enjoy doing , and hearing Miss. Aphmau tell me this threw me off completely.

"Thank you," I told her, me ears heating up. "I didn't think they were good."

"How often do you write?" she asked, reaching for her bag. She started rummaging though it.

"I don't really write that much."

She finally fished out a flyer from her bag and gave the paper to me. " There's this writing seminar I go to every so often. They hold contests for teenage writers. Your poems are lovely, but I was wondering how well you can write in prose. I think you should give it a shot." She said.

"I'm not...I don't...I don't think I'm that good."

She raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"Um, I'm not much of a writer," I admitted.

"Everyone's a writer." She said without missing a beat. "Your whole life story. The choices you make each day define what kind of story it is. Some people, like you, are just better at using words."

"Um, can I...it it...is it okay if I think about it?"

"Yes, yes, please do. I'd be delighted if you decided to join. There's a preliminary elimination wherw you have to send a sample of your work. The details on the flyer." She straightened up and started to fix her things. "Tell me when you've decided. I'd be glad to help you."