A Touch Of Your Love (ATOYL) Paused.

ii.

~ This is a work of fiction. The characters and events portrayed here are fictitious or used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons,living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author. ~

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Glancing at the immense and beautiful architecture of the building with dark red brick walls resembling the Medieval Castles if a tourist walking around the town he or she would probably think a King and a Queen lived there when the truth is that this amazing construction is just my school the Hunter College High School as pretty as it looks it's actually terrifying walking down the hallways or the library or worse the detention room. This last one I keep my distance as much as possible for a human.

"Is everything all right? " My dad asked putting his newspaper down on his lap and turning to look at me with his beautiful golden greenish eyes, the same ones I have too, while the car stopped at the entrance of the school.

" Just a little bit worried about college. " I state trying to keep myself together and rushing my way out by putting my backpack on my shoulders, the last thing I want is to worry father about this matters that only rely on me. Unfortunately, this is my reality.

" You are going to be great my dear. Yale is the perfect choice for you. " He adds with a fatherly smile and I just agree.

Biting the inside of my cheeks I make my way inside the school hall just for my to eyes start to look everywhere for Miranda but no sight of her and her long golden blond hair, something happened for her not be here already she's always so on time especially on the first day of school. Deciding to give up on my infinite search, I turn left on the hall and stop at the third on the first row of lockers, the same ones from the last two years.

Putting my books inside and just taking the big and dark green one writing in some sort of classical font the word "Art " alongside with notebook and a pen, my first class of the morning. Art is my favorite one and the teacher is amazing, my only concern about this class is that we are supposed to have partners for the semester and that is why Miranda should be here so we could be partners in the making of portraits and museum visits to inspire us. Howsoever, is not going to happen because the alarm is already ringing and no sight of Mrs. Miranda Hawking.

Big windows with the view of the wonderful garden where most of us like to be when it's a lunch break, big trees, and rounded tables and chairs so we can sit and enjoy the nice weather while eating. Four rows of ten chairs fill out the classroom with two big and narrow cabinets in the back, a big - wall to wall - blackboard and the teacher's table and chair on the right side of the room, the decorations on the wall are a big map of the world, some posters of arts previously made by other students and on the top of the blackboard a big watcher. Also known as a torture tool when it's Geometry class.Entering the room I go straight to the second chair on the fourth row, sitting on it I thank God that I was able to at least get the chair with the window on my side leaving the other one on my side free still thinking that Miranda, at any time, is going to burst in the classroom with her hair being a mess and her backpack almost falling over her shoulder while claiming that she woke up late.Then the teacher got in here first.

"Good Morning class, I am Mrs. White and I am going to be your Art teacher for this year, " She said smiling ear to ear with her white teeth, the hair up in a ponytail without a single strand of hair falling out, her rounded glasses serving as frame to her sharp and beautiful face. Mrs. White does not look like a teacher at all; she looks like a friend, a good friend. " Welcome to your senior year and this year the person who... " she did not get to finish her sentence because by the time she was talking someone opened the door brutally and stopped in the middle of the room trying to catch up with their breath. For my disappointment it wasn't Mirada, it was a guy, a very gorgeous one I might express with long dark hair covering his eyes a little bit, a simple back v line shirt, jeans, combat boots and the backpack in his hands strangely enough that our eyes made contact causing my mouth to dry so fast and the palm of my hands start sweating, what just happened?