I groaned in frustration, staring down at the novel I was supposed to be studying for Literature. Everything about the story was silly and it made me hate the subject whenever I read it. Nowadays, it was more like whenever I even saw the book within my peripheral vision. All the characters made stupid decisions like I did, then either died at the end or generally failed at life. I flipped through the pages, reciting the lines under my breath and trying to somehow manipulate myself into remembering it for the test tomorrow. The library was a little too crowded today for my liking, which made the process delightfully harder.

I looked up at the sound of a vaguely familiar voice and saw Emial at the library's entrance, chatting away with the security guard. Of course, she was friends with the security guard. She really knew how to pick her friends.

I quickly looked back down at my book and furrowed my brows, pretending I hadn't noticed.

Evidently, that didn't stop her from sitting across from me at the wooden table, the usual cheer in her face. I guessed that was one thing I had to appreciate about her - she wore that smile tirelessly, and even if she wasn't the most bearable person, it was nice to see someone smile once in a while.

It cheered me up more than I would like to admit.

"Again with the literature books? Do you do any other subjects?" she asked, peering over at my book like the nosy creature she was.

I looked up from the pages and gave her an expressionless glance. She was wearing a very nice shirt today; it was blue and checkered like all the other times. It suited her, though. When I met her eyes, I noticed they were a different shade - dark blue, to be exact.

"Are you wearing contacts?"

She raised her eyebrows and gave me a suspicious look. "You noticed?"

I immediately regretted the question. Why did everything I say keep backfiring at me?

I heard her laugh softly and she replied, "I've been experimenting. My eyes are really boring, so I decided to add some colour. What do you think?"

Reluctant to say anything unless it came out wrong again, I kept quiet at her question. Her eyes were... What's the word?... Fine the way they were, I'd say. I thought the blue hid the deep-

What was I even saying? Her eyes were just eyes. She could wear whatever contacts she chose and it would be just an eye-colour either way.

"You are the quietest person. I don't understand how you can bear to remain silent at my wonderfully charismatic questions," she rambled. I returned to trying to focus on revising my notes, letting her trail on. "I play in this band and we've been looking for a member. A guitarist, to be exact. I play electric, but I'm not so good at acoustic. If you came around, maybe you could help me and my peeps out? Inspire us and stuff. Just a bunch of lost teenagers connecting through music."

She stared intently at me, waiting for a reaction, then upon seeing my lack of interest, she started humming. Loudly.

I tried to stay focused, but the sound was truly horrifying. It wasn't even a tune that could possibly be considered musical.

She began to hum louder and a few people around us started looking over. I whispered harshly, "Stop it. They're looking at you."

She ignored me and continued as if there was no one inside the library at all.

Eventually, a middle-aged lady came up to us with a creased brow and a sharp, cold look in her brown eyes. "This is a library, girls. Learn your manners."

Emial smiled at her and asked, "It is, indeed. And I'm so very sorry, you're very correct about our manners. Would you like to join us?"

The lady gaped at Emial and, sadly, so did I. What was she trying to do? Have a fight with an old lady?

She started humming again and looked over at me, saying in a disturbingly joyful tone, "C'mon, Wylie. You know this song. We danced to it on our first date. Remember, in that beautiful hotel room? You were wearing that sexy red dress that I bought for you and-"

I almost cried out in horror. Before she could go on any further, I grabbed my things and her hand, dragging us out of the library whilst giving the lady an endless number of apologies. She seemed too aghast to respond, her wide eyes following Emial as she continued to say the foulest things I had ever heard whilst walking away.

"You have issues. For real. What do you want from me? You follow me around, you embarrass me, you ruin my reputation... Seriously, I've had enough," I said as I stuffed my books in my bag. Now I had to study at home and that was not going to work.

"You need to relax, girl. I'm just messing with you," she said softly. She looked like she was about to say something more, but she turned away as if dismissing her own thoughts.

I walked away to my car and, unsurprisingly, she followed close behind. I had learned by now not to even bother questioning it.

"What are you doing this afternoon?" she asked whilst we made our way through the parking lot.

"Homework. Studying. The usual stuff one should be doing when exams are just around the corner," I responded bitterly, hinting at how I was well aware of the fact that she probably wasn't going to be doing the same. She was most likely going to be at some cheap and boisterous teenage party, I bet, drinking her sorrows away with her emo band mates and sleeping with girls far more exotic and intriguing than I was.

Anyway, I wasn't bothered by it. If anything I hoped she would enjoy herself. And leave me out of it.

"Well, my band and I are practicing tonight. I'd love it if you joined us," she asked, stopping in her tracks and turning to me.

I gave her a confused glance. Surely, she had better things to do than invite her rude acquaintances to her band rehearsals?

"I promise not to do anything weird this time. It'll just be all of us doing... musical stuff. It'll be chill. And we'll have juice together. Please?"

At this point, I thought she was trying much too hard. Seeing her pleading and expectant expression, I also realised that I really did disapprove the idea of her wearing contacts. I preferred seeing her natural eye colour - obviously, it was only because the unusual shade was distracting me from having a normal conversation with her. I'd rather be able to insult her with better focus.

"I can't today. Sorry," was the best response I could come up with.

The mere thought of agreeing to such a thing sounded like a recipe for disaster. What if her band mates didn't like me? What if their music was beyond anything I could create? I mean, look at her, she was creative, unique, she had pink dye in her hair and she had colourful piercings... She was a work of art in itself.

I was so boring and mundane. I studied and I did literature. Like she said herself; despite being an artistic person, I was so cold and rigid in my mannerisms. I was better off sitting in the attic and playing in the comfort of my own company, the only one there to take in my music being the recording application on my phone.

***

A/N: Leave a comment telling me how the story is going so far for you (constructive criticism included) . It'll be very much appreciated! Thank you. - PBJ