Sugar, We're Going Down

Patrick P.O.V.

"Hmm hmm hmm hm hmmmmmm! Wait." Hurried scribbling. "Hm hmm hmmmm hm... yes..."

I test the phrase out on the piano I'm sat at. Yes, that sounds more like it. I play it a few more times, trying to perfect it and match it completely to the tune my sleepy head had woken up today full of.

Unlike most times when I'm composing though, for some reason today I'm not completely absorbed in my work. Far from it. As much as I try to distract myself, for some inexplicable reason my thoughts keep returning to her. The girl in my upper-sixth music class with the intense expression and a taste for equally intense lyricism. I'm pretty sure my over-attention to her is just anxiety- she's having to put up with a lot of shit from other students after all and I know far too well how painful that situation is.

But maybe it's more than that. Something about her intrigues me. Perhaps it's her reticence, it's like she's trying to build layers around herself to keep people out and I want to peel them back and see her as she really is. That sounds a bit cliche. I feel like I don't just want to protect her from thuggish pupils. I want to make her happy. Really happy. I want to see her smile and laugh and enjoy being herself, being more open. And I want to take her pretty face in both hands and kiss her gorg- WAIT, WHAT??? Let's stop that thought right there, shall we.

I bite the end of my pencil worriedly, trying to return to my work, just as there is a knock at the door.

"Come in."

The door opens and it's her. Of course.

"Oh, hi Molly. What can I help you with?"

She looks at me nervously. Thankfully, I've seen her look at most people like that, so I try not to take it personally, though it hurts just a tiny bit.

"I just came to get that folder you mentioned earlier." Her voice is very soft. You'd have to be actively listening out for her to hear it. Maybe that's the reason she seems so introverted, she feels there's no-one listening anyway?

"Oh yeah, sure." I get up and retrieve it from the mess of my desk (didn't take long for it to get like that, sigh) and go to give it to her. Shit, now is not the time for fucking internal double entendres, Patrick. Distraction needed.

"So how are you?" I ask quickly.

She blinks at me. "Um, yeah, fine, sir. Uh, yourself?"

"Yeah OK. Getting much more used to being here."

Molly nods her head, but I barely register the movement, caught up instead in just admiring her. Her dark hair is cut short in a pixie-style, her fringe falling across to almost cover one of her wide blue eyes, her sharp bone-structure just adding to her almost elfin aesthetic. Beautiful I think, and shake my head quickly to rid myself of the word and replace it firmly with STUDENT.

She's observing me warily. Fuck, I hope I'm not staring too much. Or blushing, so help me god.

"Err...so who are your friends when you're at school? I mean, I know you get on well with Ray, and there's that short guy as well..."

"Pete. Uh, that's it really. But I'm cool with that."

"You are?" I sort of feel almost like a jerk asking her this, but I'm concerned to know who she has to confide in, who's there to look out for her.

"Well...yeah, actually. We're all really close. Anyway-" her head ducks slightly. "I'm very...shy and not great at talking to people. Which you'd probably realised. So..."

I nod, deciding not to push the subject any further. "How's the guitar learning going?"

"Pretty well, I think. Been practicing quite a lot."

"I could give you a few lessons in it outside class, if you like?"

My stomach clenches in a weird way and the traitorous part of my mind is contorting itself in knots, begging her to say yes. Why, argh, stop this!

"Err...I'm not sure, I wouldn't want to bother you. Besides, Ray's teaching me quite a bit." She crosses and uncrosses her long, slender legs and my mouth waters imperceptibly as I look up from them and quickly scan her slim figure, concealed in her blouse-and-skirt uniform. Yes, Patrick, UNIFORM, STUDENT! Get that in your head!!

"Oh it's no bother at all. I could just give you a few pointers, suggest and work through a few songs that I think you'd like, that kind of thing."

Her anxious eyes study my face. "Well...OK then. Thank you, sir."

"Great! How about we start tomorrow? After school, Practice Room 3, end of the corridor?"

"Sure."

She gives me a small, hesitant smile and I can't help but respond with a wide beam.

"I'm looking forward to it!" I practically fucking cheer.

Then she's backing out the classroom and I return to my composing, but this time with a smile and bizarrely buoyant feeling I am unable to shift.

Notes

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