Things Not Seen Are Felt

Chapter 3: Knowing You

It's already June and for me that's the hottest month of the year. I hate coming back to school with sweaty clothes and damp hair. I'm thankful that all the classrooms are air-conditioned. It makes it bearable for me to study and listen to the professor. I just arrived in school but I look like I just ran a marathon. My sweat was dripping down my chin and my clothes were soaking wet with sweat. I removed my glasses and pulled out a handkerchief from my pocket. The sweat from my face and neck was enough to make my it damp.

It was only nine in the morning and I still have two more hours before my first period. I came this early because I needed to use the journalism club room to write my project story. The topic I chose was about the hippest band on campus "Compass Rose". Two reasons on why I chose Hikaru-senpai's band was because one: I love music. I might not look like the kind of person who does but I am very passionate when it comes to writing and music. Two: I know one of the band members. As you've noticed, I am not a people-person. I don't mingle and have small talks with people. It was a nice opportunity that I knew Hikaru-senpai so it was easy to ask permission to have the interview.

Speaking of yesterday's interview, I was actually overwhelmed by it. The band was fun and carefree. I could see that all of them played because it is something they love to do; especially that Nakajima Yuto. At first I was I guess scared? When I first saw him, he didn't smile or anything.

He just look monotonous and of course for someone like me who doesn't know how to deal with people, I would feel scared and intimidated but I didn't show it on my face. I am really good at hiding my emotions.

Another thing that first made me think this Nakajima guy hated me was the way he stared at me. While I was interviewing Hikaru-senpai, I could feel his gaze fixed on me and it gave shivers down my spine! It's not like I have done something against him right? That was the first time we've met I guess? Well, he does look somewhat familiar but I really can't put a finger on it.

The journalism club room was quiet when I entered. The room is only used when we have projects which happens occasionally and meetings every afternoon. Before coming here, I passed by the vending machine and bought strawberry milk but I didn't know what came to me that I punched in chocolate instead so here I am bringing two drinks in my hands. I set up my laptop on the table and turned it on. I find it more comfortable to work here than in my own house. It feels less lonelier here than there.

I pulled out my notebook from yesterday and reviewed what I wrote then started typing while occasionally taking sips from my strawberry milk. Time was flying by so fast but I wasn't yet halfway done with my project. It was already 10 am; an hour since I started. I stretched my sore aching muscles. I was about to start typing again when I heard the door open. Nakajima Yuto was standing by the door taking a look inside the club room. I gotta admit he looked dashing in his blue ripped jeans and red plaid shirt. Simple yet it looked good in him.

"Oh Yama-chan! Ohayou." A killer smile was shot my way and my heart started beating fast. Why? Nakajima Yuto now was totally a different Nakajima Yuto I met for the first time yesterday. I don't know what suddenly changed him.

"Ohayou gozaimasu Nakajima-kun." I politely bowed. "You're too formal Yama-chan. Call me Yuto instead." To be honest, I really liked Nakajima-kun's personality. It was vibrant and warm. He knows how to make you feel comfortable and makes me think that we are really close friends.

"Yuto-kun then." I answered back. He shrugged his shoulders and took the seat beside mine. "Close enough." We had a good amount of space between us but damn I could smell his musk from here and he smelled nice.

What the hell am I thinking?!

"Is this the article Yama-chan?" He leaned in forward and started to read what I wrote but I suddenly covered the screen to prevent him from reading further.