Page 52 of Faux Real
“I can’t,” Oliver sighs, tossing me an apologetic smile. “I have band practice tonight, it’s Wednesday, remember?”
“Oh, right,” I wince. Shit, I forgot about that. “How’s that going?”
“So far so good. I’m just learning their songs, they have a lot, but I’m picking them up quickly,” he replies, scooting his chair closer to me, knocking his knees into mine. I don’t move. “Here, I’ve recorded a few.” He pulls up the voice memo app on his phone and presses play on a file titled Catharsis Track 1. “Have a listen.” Melodic rock music blares from the speaker and I find myself nodding along, surprisingly enjoying the gritty texture of the singer’s voice, the harsh guitar tones, and the smooth drumbeats.
Wow, they’re not bad.
“What do you play?” I ask, realizing I never asked.
“Drums,” he mutters, leaning closer to his phone, his minty breath filling the space between our faces. I hold my breath as the song continues to play. “I fucked up the fill there, shit.”
“I couldn’t tell,” I whisper, flicking my gaze up to his passionate eyes. It must be nice to have a hobby that brings you so much joy. He grins, his playful gaze darting between my awestruck eyes.
“That’s ‘cause you’re not a drummer, love.”
“True,” I smile, tucking a wayward hair behind my ear. “But for what it’s worth, I think you sound great. Really. I’d buy an album”
“Yeah?” he asks, pressing pause on the song and reclining back into his chair, a pleased expression on his face. “You liked it?”
“Mhmm,” I hum, taking a deep breath. “It’s different from what I usually listen to but yeah, it’s good. Do you have any concerts coming up?”
“Concerts?” Ollie chuckles.What’s so funny?“They’re called shows, Kennedy. It’s rock music, not the symphony. See? Youarea little basic.”
“Oh, shut up, same thing.”
“So muchto learn,” he sings, shaking his head.
“Yeah? Are you going to teach me?” I ask innocently.
“Oh, I could teach youa lotof things, Kennedy.” Ollie licks his lips, eyeing me carefully. “If you’rewilling.”
My eyes widen as my heart races. Oh, crap. No. No. No. “Uh— I think I should go,” I stammer, checking the time on my watch. “I have to—” I stand up abruptly. “I have to go do...something.”
“So soon?” Oliver smirks, his eyes glowing with a devilish gleam. “Well, enjoy yoursomething.”
“I will!” I peep, darting to the door, nearly tripping over the trash can. “Enjoy...band.”
“See you inclass,” he calls out in a taunting tone as I slam his door shut.
I should’ve just left the jacket outside his door with a note.
Idiot.
seventeen
Eye of the Beholder
OLIVER
“Alrightclass,”Mr.Takanakibegins, strolling in front of the class, his long hair tied up into a top bun. “The past few weeks we’ve briefly gone over the seven elements of photography; texture, line, color, shape, form, tone, and space. And before we dive deeper into each component, I think it’s time to put what we’ve learned so far to the test.”
Oh, is he finally going to let ustakephotographs? Bloody time. If I knew this class would be reviewing the fundamentals, I would’ve taken a different course.
The teacher continues, “I am assigning you all the task of capturing an image that evokes the feeling of beauty. That is the only criteria, nothing else. Beauty is subjective...”
Tuning Mr. Takanaki out, I subtly crane my neck, my gaze flickering toward Kennedy who’s fervently taking notes. Today her long blondish-brown hair’s in a braid with several loose strands framing her heart-shaped face, her nose scrunched in concentration, her teeth biting into her plump bottom lip.
I narrow my eyes as Sawyer shifts closer to Kennedy in his seat and whispers something in her ear. Immediately, she swats him away, rolling her eyes. I suppress a laugh.
