Love Is Symphony |✓

| 6 |

Imitation.

According to the Webster's Dictionary app on my phone, it's an act of copying something or someone, and if my comprehension of its meaning was correct, I'd assume that you made an imitation out of the painting last night. It wasn't as breathtaking as the original. In fact, it looked like what a bored high school student would doodle on the back leaf of his notebook during AP Calculus. But somehow, it was enough to make it hard for me to breathe.

And as I laid over the thin cover of my mattress, arms and legs sprawled, replaying the memories of last night as my only activity for my day-off, I couldn't help but move closer to the edge of the cliff I haven't seen in awhile. The cliff of love.

I knew for a fact that all you had to do was smile, and I'd be off, checking the bottom of the cliff, calculating how deep the fall would be.

-Sean Craig

It was written at the bottom corner of the napkin in sharp and thin strokes where your imitated artwork laid. You gave it to me. "A token of appreciation for staying up late," you said, the napkin dangling from the tips of your long fingers and playful smirk on your lips.

I took it, and my, weren't I happy that you wrote your name and number.

The whole night and daylight today, all I did was debate with myself whether or not should I send you a text message. My dilemma started as simple as that - whether I should text you or not, then it soon morphed into a more complicated one where I was questioning myself on what I should I ask you.

Should I just drop a simple 'hi'.

Maybe I could pretend that I sent you the wrong message to start a conversation.

Or perhaps, I shouldn't just message you at all.

A frustrated groan escaped my chapped lips as I rolled on my bed. Bringing the cover along with me as I go, its ends tangling with my legs. Suddenly the shrill cry of my cell phone ringing cut through my croaked groan, and I jolted upright, the duvet sprawled over my head.

And there, on the screen of my outdated iPhone, your name flashed followed by three heart emojis and a blushing one. You were calling me. I was taken aback by the fact that you called me first, rather than I who obviously had the hots and colds for you.

My heart thudded loudly in my chest, excitement bursting through me as thoughts of why you called came to my mind, grabbing the phone from the nightstand, I cleared my throat and practiced a few hello's before sliding my finger over the screen. "Hello?"

"Hi, Serenity?"

God, why did your voice sound so good even over the phone? It was soothing like thick honey slowly pouring onto my skin, coating every space with sweetness until all there was left was a golden sheen.

I covered the mouth piece and cleared my throat again, silently praying that it would sound at least, somehow decent. "Um, yeah. It's me. Who's this?"

Rule number one: Don't show too much interest.

That was the first on the list that Imogen gave to me, written on a ripped leaf of notebook that was now inside my study table's drawer.

She gave it to me the next morning after I had a late snack with you. According to her, guys tend to get over-confident when girls show too much interest. And soon enough, they'd get bored and leave. 'You wouldn't want that, babe. Boys as good looking as those can be such a heart breaker' that was her words, a look of concern on her face.

An eerie pause followed and for a second I was worried that you'd change your mind and hung up, realizing that I wasn't worth your time.

"It's Sean. Remember?"

Of course, I do. No one filled my mind as much as you did. "Oh. Oh, Sean. So, what up?"

"Nothing much. Just making sure that you haven't lost my number. I got yours from Imogen by the way when I went to Infusion earlier this morning. She said you're on your day off. So yeah..." he trailed off, sounding reluctant. 

Adjusting in my position on my bed, a small smile made its way to my face. "You went to Infusion to check if I still had your number with me?"

"No!" he denied quickly and I raised a brow.

"No?"

"I mean yes. Maybe?," he groaned, "just - yeah. Something like that."

I smiled again. "Yeah? Well, good thing I still have your number. I sa- um, I think I placed it somewhere on my desk." I pulled at my hair, silently hitting myself when I almost gave away my lie.

Rule number one, Ser! Rule number one!

He chuckled lightly, causing me to release my hair. "Well, if ever you lost it, you can save it now."

I already did. I even added four emojis next to your name.

"Of course," I said, biting on my lower lip. "We wouldn't want to lose an artist's number. It might come in handy some time."

Chuckles filled both of our lines—sweet, melodious chuckles that tickled the insides. "Now I like the sound of that," he said and we both laughed again. I should've strapped myself onto my seat tighter then, Sean, because that night was just the beginning of every thing I could never be prepared for.