INMARCESIBLE

INMARCESIBLE - 6

"I want you to play the piano for me", He said.

At least that what I think he said. And words left me. I stared into those bright green eyes as my face washed blank with confusion, those eyes that were the ones that told of many secrets but held them locked in a strong box so beautiful that you wouldn't dare to open in fear of what you might find within. It was nothing he did precisely; it just looked as if he had a secret you would enjoy hearing about.  My brain cogs couldn't turn fast enough to take in the information from my wide eyes. I was thinking he would ask me of something wacky, like him. Heck! I wouldn't be surprised if he threw around oil-covered beans and asked me to pick up every single one of them with a pair of chopsticks. But this? Play him the piano!? I was at a loss for words.

"Yo turtle, you there with me? Why are you looking at me like I just told you to go dig up a hole and bury yourself in it?" He raised a brow.

"W-Why are you calling me that? Don't call me that!" I carped in displeasure, my focus totally off the topic.

"Why? What's wrong with it? Do you rather prefer Tink?" He raised his brows in amusement as he eyed my dark green t-shirt with 'I AM AWESOME' engraved in it in murky colors.

"No! I don't, I...."

"Well then it's settled. Turtle it is. I will meet you tonight after dinner in the hall of honors, in front of the picture of that ancestor grandpa of mine."  Despite the guy being rude I couldn't deny the perky sense of humor the guy sometimes displayed. I hid a small smile at his choice of words. Until I recalled what he wanted from me. Anxiety unnerved me as he took an about turn to leave.

"Wait! I....I can't!" I said in mere tautness.

"What do you mean you can't?" He turned around to look at me, his brows were knitted together in all grimness, like he was trying to understand a weary piece of puzzle but failing miserably.

"It means I can't play the piano for you", I shook my head in distress.

"Are you telling me that you won't pay me back for my help?" His frown became more prominent as he peered at me in discontent, clearly not happy with my response. It seemed like he was the kind of guy who didn't do well with rejections.

"N-No! Of course not. I ...I'm really grateful to you for helping me just now but.... (sigh) why do I have to play the piano for you?" My brain was like an old rusty compass and Eric Warnard was the Bermuda Triangle. Unreadable. I didn't understand what he wanted, what he was thinking or doing half the time. So, I asked the million dollar question, as my wearisome curiosity decided to finally rear its head up.

To describe his facial expression would be like describing a blank sheet of paper. He could have been in a coma for all the life his face showed. But this was the way he greeted my eyes and I knew he didn't want to answer me as he said, "Why do you ask so many questions?"

"Because I want to know what you really want from me."

"That's not important. All you need to do is play me a piece every night until I say we stop, and we are good," His sudden cold deportment shocked me. Like I was nothing more than a mere pawn in his great game of conquest. His mood swings really made my brain cells feel like they have been randomized.

His stare of vexation was so intense I couldn't will my lips to move. As if stuck underwater, everything was slow and warbled as he spoke first, "If you really wanna show your appreciation then be there without further arguments tonight. I will see you later."

"Wa-Wait!" But he was gone like the fickle gust of summer wind.       

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