Song Like You (Bea Miller Fanfiction) {{ON HOLD}}

Chapter 3

Jamie's POV

The moment I had walked into Bea's house I was filled with amazement. It wasn't the fact that her house was two stories because mine was as well. It wasn't really the size, although my house was a little smaller than her's. It was just the authenticity of the house and how clean and organized it was. My house wasn't the cleanest or most organized place of course, but Bea's house made mine seem...cheap.

And the moment I laid eyes on Ollie I was in love. He was so tiny and fluffy just peacefully sleeping there in his little bed with his ears pressed gently against his head. I just couldn't help walking over to him just to give him a little pet and say hello. I've always wanted a dog, I know we have the money, but my aunt hates dogs. Says they're "destructive" and "a waste of money and time." I've even offered to pay for the supplies and teach it tricks but no means no when it comes to her.

As we quietly walked up the final steps to the attic where, apparently Bea's room was, I gasped at the unexpected alignment of furniture and amount of space that was right in front of me. I had imagined a small, dark room with one little window, a tiny bed, and a simple dresser. But, no. It was the exact opposite. The stairs led to a triangle shaped room, of course, and multiple pieces of white furniture and ivory walls surrounding the area. The room was mostly carpet and right as I walked in, I saw to my left was a white shelf with books and little sculptures. An empty space of wood led straight into a square room of carpet.

The carpeted room held a queen sized bed with a white comforter and ivory and blush pink pillows in the far right corner. In front of the bed was a white hang-a-round chair, a window right next to the bed silky curtains, and a wooden nightstand under the window. In the far left corner was what looked like a white portable closet. The left side of the room also held another table with plants and pictures and a white desk with a wooden chair that held papers, picture frames, a candle, and a thin Mac computer. On the other side of the room were the bed and the hang-a-round chair, as I described earlier, as well as a black body length mirror, a dresser with clear knobs, and an acoustic guitar.

"Nice place you got here," I commented. Bea smiled as she walked over to the white desk, opened one of the drawers, and pulled out a black phone charger, handing it to me. I thanked her while plugging it into the nearest outlet, and setting it on the desk. "You seem to like lighter shades of white and pink," I continued saying noticing the vast usage of white and pink used in the room all around me.

"Yeah, I guess. I see white as a simple yet beautiful color. Plus it goes with pretty much anything." I nodded in agreement as I looked around her room, carefully scrutinizing the white aesthetic.

"Your room is so nice and neat. Mine is a mess and all it is random colors of gray, black, and some shades of blue. I hate it," I sighed plopping down on the white chair near the desk. Bea sat on her bed, her legs dangling from the edge, her feet barely touching the floor.

"Blue's a nice color. It's one of my favorites. Mostly because every shade of blue is really pretty and there are so many different kinds of blue." I looked over at Bea seeing her slowly turn her head from left to right looking around her room. I thought a little about what she had just said about the color blue. I'd only known her for a couple of hours, and I could already tell she was one of those people who would see a deeper meaning or more value in something that, to the average human, seems so small and simple. I tried thinking like her, tried seeing the world in a more abstract way.

"If you think about it," I continue a few moments later, "blue is everywhere. The sky is blue, the ocean is blue, even at night the sky can appear to be a very dark shade blue." I catch Bea's expression out of the corner of my eye and see a look of surprise and bewilderment written all over. I start twiddling my thumbs again, which I do whenever I'm feeling anxious or self-conscience.