I didn't want to like him.

My mind was refusing to like him. But my heart was a little rebel, and it wouldn't stop beating so fast every time I thought about him.

And my sister was making it worse.

Clover hadn't stopped teasing me since yesterday, writing my first name with Michael's last name on a paper and telling me some things she knew about him. Like how terrible he was at dancing ("He dances like a robot with a missing screw," she said) or how weird he was ("He used to eat Doritos with a spoon"), or how addicted he was to cheese ("He couldn't get enough of a pack. Or two.").

I had to admit—those were fun to know about, but her antics annoyed me to no end. Perhaps this was her way to get back at me for teasing her with Clint. No matter how hard I begged her to keep it low, she would just laugh and sing, "Autumn is in love with Michael!"

Being fifteen, the possibility of falling in love with someone hadn't crossed my mind until that moment. I had thought my feelings for him were just feelings of admiration, but those feelings had grown into something deeper day by day, and I wasn't aware of it. This might be a clichéd question, but how would you know if it's love, anyway?

The answer occurred to me one day. I remember that day so well because it held the events that led me to acknowledge what I felt for Michael was something I had never felt for anyone in my life. Clover and I hopped off the school bus one early morning, and the first thing that came out of her was, "Why don't you text him now, see how he's doing? He could be sitting somewhere, staring at his phone, thinking the same thing about you."

I ignored her. As much as I craved to talk to him, I didn't want to be clingy and appear desperate.

"When are you going to tell him?" she asked.

"Tell what?"

"Your feelings."

"I-I won't."

"Then I'll tell him for you."

"If you say a word to him, Garlic Clove, I'll break your arms."

The mean kids at our elementary school used to call her Garlic Clove, which annoyed her so much. I thought calling her that would stop her teasing, but she continued to smile mischievously at me, her eyes full of glee.

"You're not a violent person, Autumn. You can't even kill a spider."

"Because spiders don't annoy me with their teasing unlike you. Don't test me," I said with a glare.

She jerked away from me to protect herself. "Okay, chill. Gonna zip my mouth. But why hide it? If you get the chance to confess, do it, or else you'll regret it." She turned her head and her eyes widened. "Oh, look! There's your Prince Charming. Isn't this a lucky day for you? Let's go. Here's your chance to talk to him."

She grabbed my hand and dragged me to him. I tried to break from her grip, but boy was she so strong.

"Michael, hey!"

He turned around, taking off his headphones. He looked like he hadn't had sleep in ages, but how he managed to look that good daily, I'd never know.

"Yeah?" he asked.

Clover bumped my shoulder with hers. "Isn't there something you wanna say to him, sis?"

I struggled to keep steady on my feet. "G-Good morning," I said.

He blinked and slowly broke into a smile. "Morning."

"I, um, I forgot to say thanks for letting me meet Elodie. So... thanks."

"No problem."

Michael turned away and began walking toward the entrance. Clover shot me a disapproving look. I smiled impishly, my eyes telling her, "Not today, Clover. Not today." But she took my telepathic message as a challenge and called him again.

"Hey, headphones! Don't you think Autumn looks good today?"

I pinched her back. She didn't budge.

"No," he answered without a second thought. That stung, but I couldn't blame him for being blatantly honest...

"I think she looks cute."

He covered his ears with his headphones and continued to walk as if nothing happened.

"Oh my God!" Clover squealed when he was out of earshot. She elbowed me in the ribs, and it hurt. "I told you you're his type."

I can't remember what she said next. All I can remember is that for a couple of minutes, I felt like I was floating. Every time he spoke, his words seemed to nullify the gravity.

──────

Finn and I hadn't talked since that day with Sunny. The tension between us had been so thick that I could break my leg if I kicked it. He didn't seem to be aware of my approaching presence when I entered the classroom. Or maybe he was, but he would rather keep his attention on the window than initiate a talk with me. Good.

I kept my eyes on the floor as I sat quietly in my chair, not allowing it to squeak. However, as much as I'd been trying to be careful, I accidentally bumped his foot with mine in the process. He looked up in surprise and glanced at me. I mumbled an apology. He nodded. The room felt hot, so I swept my hair to the side and used my hand as a fan to get some air.

Several moments of tense silence passed between us until Finn cleared his throat.

"Hey," he said.

"Hi," I replied.

"I... I want to talk about what Sunny did last time."

I nodded like a robot. Oh boy, here we go.

"Did she tell you anything?"

We were not looking at each other, but occasionally we would steal surreptitious, sidelong glances at each other. A lie waited at the base of my throat, but I swallowed it down and decided to tell the truth instead. Or at least, some of it.

"Yes. She—"

"Whatever she told you. Don't believe it. She's just teasing," Finn said, his jaw set firmly. "She does that when she's bored."

Huh, just like Clover.

I almost released a loud sigh of relief. "Okay... okay."

A joke. Just like I had guessed.

However, in the back of my mind, there was a burning question that could prove it hadn't been a joke at all, and Finn was the one lying. But I didn't ask because I dreaded the answer. Besides, he began talking animatedly as if we were back to normal.

"Great. With that out of the way, are you free tomorrow afternoon?"

That was a Saturday. "Yeah... Why?"

"Could you help me with my book report? It's due Monday, and I haven't started anything yet, what with my extracurriculars."

I didn't think much about his request. I wanted to help a friend in need, and it involved books and book reports so I couldn't resist.

"Oh, okay. Where should we meet?" I said.

"At my house. There's something I wanna show you. I'm sure you'll like it."

"Really? What is it?"

Finn lifted his index finger to his mouth. "You'll see."

I didn't pry. I just shrugged and took out my notes to busy myself. We spent the remaining minutes in silence—him writing in his notebook and me studying—until the teacher arrived and the class commenced.

When it ended almost an hour later, Finn stood up from his seat and slid a little paper to my side of the table. As he fled out of the room, I noticed his ears were deep crimson.

I looked at the note and felt shivers up the back of my neck. My thoughts spun like a carousel. It had been a while since I'd seen the familiar chicken-scratch handwriting written in blue ink.

This may sound insanely random, but I think you should know that I like the way your hair falls on the side of your neck and you look lovely.

I didn't need to ask him the question. He must've gotten the clue already, so he presented his answer on a yellow sticky note.

──────

"It wasn't a joke!" Sunny exclaimed beside me.

It was lunchtime, and I wanted to have my essential alone time in the courtyard with only my book and chicken sandwich as my companions. However, my quality time was once again disturbed when she came by to ask me if I'd seen the picture on Finn's phone.

"I don't know what to tell you, Sunny," I said. "You were teasing us because you were bored, weren't you?"

Sunny bit her lip, her nostrils flaring. She inhaled a mouthful of air and said in a shrill voice, "I'm not lying! He likes you!"

I put my finger to my lips. "Shhh! Keep it down."

"It's true, though. Finn does. He's just a coward, and it's so frustrating."

The sticky note earlier, along with the others that I'd kept in my keepsake box, showed up in my thoughts, and I tried to dispel them with a shake of my head

"That's impossible. I mean, him liking me," I said and took a huge bite of my food.

"Oh, sweetie. You have no idea." She rolled her eyes, laughing. "He's already yours for the taking, you know?"

My shoulders slumped. "Okay, if he does—"

"He does."

"If he does, what's it got to do with you? Why is this making you so excited?"

"Because..." Sunny struggled to reply. "You guys are my friends, and I think you two look good together. Besides, I'm glad to see that he's interested in someone decent. The last one was a disaster."

I frowned. "Finn had a girlfriend?"

"No, not like that. He just went on a date with her in middle school. I think she's named Maddie or something. She was the total opposite of you."

Oh, middle school. My least favorite place on Earth. One teacher yelled at me for not speaking loudly during a recitation, and it furthered my isolation from my classmates. But I knew who Sunny was talking about. Madeleine Daines. I think everyone in school knew her because she was a new kid from New York and she was cute. It didn't surprise me that Finn had chosen to date her.

"Well, I still think it's impossible for him to like me. I won't believe it until I hear it from him," I said, trying to be nonchalant. This wasn't something I normally discussed with other people, especially if I was the subject, so it made me uncomfortable. I finished the last bite of my sandwich and balled the tissue in my hand.

"Oh yeah, because important things should be put into words properly, right?" Sunny nudged me while moving her eyebrows up and down. "But with Finn, that's going to take an eternity."

"Is there someone you like, Sunny?"

A confused surprise was plain on her face. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious." Also to change the subject.

"Well..." Her eyes became dreamy as she stared at the trickling water fountain in front of us. "I do."

"Is it Lance?" I teased.

"Yuck, no. He's someone handsome and out of reach."

"Out of reach? Are you talking about a celebrity, Sunny?"

She laughed. "I don't have a crush in this school. Everyone's ugly."

"Wow—"

"I mean, except my friends AKA you guys. But seriously, I don't like anyone here. I have high standards." She lifted her hand above her head to show how high her standards were.

"So that means you rejected anyone who asked you out," I said. Sunny was effortlessly beautiful, with enviable clear skin, naturally pink cheeks, and glossy black hair. It wouldn't be a surprise if many people tried to pursue her.

"Yeah," she replied. "I don't play around and give them false hope."

I nodded, taking her point.

──────

The rest of the day went by in a blur. Clover had club activities so I was going home alone. On my way to the school's exit, I made sure to pass by the field where the sycamore tree stood, hoping to catch a glimpse of Michael. Sure enough, he was there, sitting on the ground and doodling something in his binder.

I felt like a giddy schoolgirl at the sight of him, but I did my best to maintain my cool as I pretended not to see him. When he glanced at me, I did a double take and said breezily as if I hadn't been looking forward to seeing him, "Oh. Hey, Michael. Didn't see you there."

He made a lopsided smile. "Hey, Marmalade."

I moved closer to his spot and tried to peek into his work. "Are you drawing something?"

He lifted his binder to me, and I was amazed by his meticulous handwriting. "Oh, it's not a drawing. You're writing music." With my middle school knowledge about the subject, I tried to read the notes and imagine how they sounded based on their placement on the staff. Looking up from his work, I asked, "Can you play this? I can imagine it sounds great with an instrument."

He shook his head. "Doubt it. I've never heard it myself. I just wrote it by ear so it'll need corrections."

"Whoa, so you wrote all these—" I flicked the pages "—without hearing the actual music? How? Are you, like, Beethoven Junior?"

Michael chuckled and motioned for me to give his binder back. "That's a weird nickname."

"Is this sort of a personal challenge you set for yourself?"

"No. I just don't have an instrument to play it with. It is quite a fun challenge, though."

I gave him a curious look. "How about your guitar? You always carry it with you."

"It's broken."

"Oh, like the strings snapped?"

He shook his head again and said in a muted, flat voice, "No. Worse. The whole thing was smashed."

"Smashed! What happened?"

"I accidentally dropped it on the floor."

I couldn't prove he was lying, but I suspected he was. It looked like he didn't want to talk about it, so I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

"That's too bad," I said.

"But I'm getting a new one tomorrow. Wanna come with me?"

The idea of spending the day with him made me blush with excitement that I had to turn away and pray he wouldn't notice. But then, I remembered Finn, his book report, and my heaps of homework that needed to be done over the weekend.

"Can't, sorry. I already have plans," I said.

"Then let's go now."

"What?"

Standing up, Michael shoved his binder in his backpack and zipped it up. With a glint in his eyes, he said, "Another after-school adventure. What do you say?"

I laughed. Adventure, really? "Where to, Captain?"

──────

Our first stop was Sunset Edge. No other customers were present at that time, so Bob, in a bright blue Hawaiian shirt, busied himself fixing a guitar behind the counter. He stopped working when Michael approached him to ask permission to use the back of the stop. Bob easily gave him his approval.

Once we reached the back, I was astounded to learn that the shop was wider than it seemed outside in the street. The room was a library of various musical instruments, from classical to modern. Michael found me open-mouthed and wide-eyed, and he chuckled.

"Never seen a place like this before?"

"Yeah."

"Feel free to try anything out—" he waved his hand around the room "—Bob won't mind as long as you're careful."

"Nah, I'll spare you the noise pollution. I don't know how to play an instrument. Maybe except for the maracas."

"I suggest you try learning how to play one. Listening to music is fun, but playing it yourself is far more satisfying." He slid me a glance and smiled. "Do you want me to teach you?"

Of course, I wanted to. But I was too flabbergasted to think of a casual response, so I was closing and opening my mouth like a fish. Michael took my reaction as hesitation because he said, "I'm not forcing you, but trust me when I say this: you'll miss something big time if you don't learn an instrument. I'm not exaggerating."

"No. I want... to play music," I mumbled, red-faced. "But I must warn you, I'm very terrible at it," I added with wobbly laughter.

"I won't mind. No one starts perfectly. Just keep playing, and you'll be great at it someday. So—" he looked around as if selecting an instrument suitable for me "—what would you like to play?"

I was astonished. "Wait, you want me to pick any instrument and you'll teach me how to play it? Does that mean you know how to play all of these instruments?"

Michael looked away from me and covered his mouth with his hand, his discomfort noticeable. "No... All of them just follow the same principles," he muttered.

"But you did try to learn to play them all, didn't you? I think that's another reason why you come here often—so you can practice." I paused to wait for a response, but he seemed too guilty to come up with one. "I get it. I do the same thing in bookstores. I sneak into the back and speed-read the entire book if I have no money to buy it."

He laughed. "You really are dangerous, Marmalade."

I was grinning so wide at this newfound discovery about him. "You have a special hidden talent, Michael Summer, and you have to show it to me right now."

"I thought you wanted me to teach you."

"Yes. But first, will you please, with cheese on top, let me hear you play?" I had to add the cheese because that might win him over. "I choose the instrument and you play sample music, okay? Just two instruments."

Smiling, he bit his lip and shook his head. "Fine."

I could barely keep my enthusiasm as I wandered my gaze around and pointed at the row of violins hanging on the wall. Huffing under his breath, Michael grabbed one violin, tuned it, and placed the bottom of it on his shoulder. His stance looked so effortless as if he played it every day. When he slid the bow against the strings to produce a song, the hair on my skin stood on end.

"And I Love Her by The Beatles?" I guessed.

He smiled at me as he played it louder. "Yes."

Michael played for only a few seconds, but I was already charmed from head to toe. I almost couldn't pull myself out of my trance when he stopped playing and asked me, "Satisfied?"

"Nope. Last one. Try the piano."

"Okay, boss." He put the violin back where it had been from and proceeded to a digital piano in the far corner of the room, taking a seat with him. After a little tweaking, he played another familiar song.

"Moon River," I said with certainty.

"Perfect." He grinned at me and went on.

Both he and Finn were great at playing the piano, but there was a clear difference in their playing style and the emotions they wanted to create. Finn's style was forceful and brisk like a waterfall crashing on the rocks below, whereas Michael's style was pensive and serene like a deep stream.

I hummed along with the music, studying his veiny hands flying across the keyboard. Before I could lose myself in the moment, Michael stopped playing and held out his open palm to me.

"That would be ten dollars, ma'am. Five dollars for each song."

I laughed and slapped invisible money in his hand. Just as I was about to pull away, he clasped his hand around mine and we stayed like that for a while, just him smiling and holding my hand in silence and me dumbfounded. Warmth radiated from his skin, and I felt like my feet were melting from it. I wasn't sure what the situation meant, but... I liked it. I liked holding his hand.

"Hey, you kids all right over there? You got quiet all of a sudden." Bob's loud voice that came from the door made me yank my hand away.

"Uh, yeah. We're okay!" I yelled back and tried to play things cool. "R-right, we're gonna get you a new guitar. That's what we came here for," I said to Michael who was still sitting in his chair.

Trying to avoid his gaze, I dashed to the guitar racks lining the wall opposite the room and pointed at a black acoustic guitar with white trim. "Hey, this one looks cool."

"Marmalade," Michael said with a serious look. He stood up, walked toward me, and then stopped an arm's length away.

My heart pounded in my ears. "Yes?"

"This might be a little sudden, but would you like to go out for coffee after this?"