The Heart's Song

Chapter Three: He's Cute

I had forgotten to write I my diary last night. I face palmed in annoyance, knowing I'd betrayed myself. Alisha was sitting opposite me, picking at her food. She looked rather down. I took a deep breath and exhaled, looking firmly at Alisha.

"Are you alright?" I asked in concern.

Her eyebrows furrowed and her cheeks burned red.

"Why did you say that?!" She sobbed. She buried her face into her hands and sobbed incessantly. I softened my eyes and got out of my seat, giving her a supportive hug. She hugged me back. I didn't complain about her nails digging into my flesh and I patted her back.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked softly, pulling back. Alisha sniffed, flicking her hair. There were red circles under her eyes.

"I am going to miss Seattle so much! New York is just not me!" She sniffed once more. I sighed.

"Do you really want to go to Julliard?" I questioned. She nodded but her eyes were cold.

"Listen, you're gonna be fine." I murmured.

"That's easy for you to say. You got over your mom's death practically on the day it happened." Alisha spat. She had a glint of anger in her ice blue eyes. People craned their heads in our direction - I didn't care.

Ouch. Her harsh remark made me feel a sunken hurt feeling in my chest. I hid my face with my hair so she didn't see the pain in my expression. Alisha sighed and wiped away her own tears.

"I'm sorry, Tiff.." She huffed. "It's just gonna be hard leaving my hometown."

I gave her a weak smile and sat back down in my seat. There was still a subtle tint of hurt in my chest as I looked down at my tray. There was a half eaten pack of chips, a plate with crumbs on it and an apple with one bite in it. I could have finished those chips. I could have finished that apple. But I didn't have the appetite anymore.

I sighed and picked up my tray. "I'm done." I left Alisha there to cool down as I placed my tray with the rest. She nodded at me, gesturing I could go now. I thanked her and starting heading down to the art department. I decided to take a short-cut and go through the hall and past the stage. But unfortunately, I found myself in a fix again. This time, 'I Giorni' played alluringly in reverb.

I silently stepped onwards, getting closer and closer. Dylan still sat there, playing continuously. I wanted to get to art, but I couldn't. I felt an unbelievable pain at the thought of leaving this musical genius. I could have stood there forever, listening the pianist's passion.

Dylan suddenly stopped and turned around. Damn.. He probably felt the heat of my gaze on him. When I focused on my sight, I managed to see Dylan's face. He had soft blue eyes and dark brown hair. If I wasn't so interested by his looks, I would have ran till I reached Albuquerque. But it was him who stuttered and hastily shut the piano's fall. He grabbed his bag and ran off backstage.

"Wait!" I called, only to my disappointment he didn't come back. I dramatically sighed and then started heading off to art - the long way around.