Sounds of Silence: A Contemporary Romance Read online

  She did not have a laptop out, unlike most of the class. She preferred to handwrite her notes, though it looked like she traced the lines on the notebook paper more than anything else.

  When I brought my gaze up off her notebook, I met eyes that were a startlingly bright green. Beneath the neon pink hair, I realized, she was pretty. Pale face, smooth skin, not a blemish or scar in sight. Her lips were pursed in a frown as she looked at me, as if she couldn’t decide whether I’d asked her that seriously or not.

  The pink hair must throw me off at a distance. I never realized she was so cute before.

  For a few moments, we simply stared at each other, neither one of us saying anything. I wished I knew what was going on in that head of hers; her green gaze held something I couldn’t name.

  Finally, she spoke in a bare whisper, so as to not draw the professor’s attention, “Maybe don’t be late, and you won’t miss anything.”

  I blinked. Was that attitude she was giving me, or was she just stating the obvious? I honestly could not tell, but I also didn’t care which one. Maybe today wouldn’t be such a bad day after all. “It isn’t like I’m always late. Needed my coffee.”

  Her emerald stare fell to the mug on my lap, and I had never seen a more unimpressed look.

  A smile grew on my face, and I grabbed the mug, offering it to her. “Want some?”

  She shook her head softly. “I hate coffee.”

  I swore I felt my heart break right there. Who in their right mind hated coffee? A savage, some uncultured swine, definitely. I yanked it back, acting insulted, and I made sure to take a long swig.

  As class continued, I tried to pay attention to the professor. It was weird, because I’d never had a problem before. Paying attention was easy for me. What was even weirder was that I knew my problems with trying to focus was not because I sat in the back.

  It was because I sat in the back beside a girl with bright pink hair and the greenest eyes I’d ever seen.

  As the minutes wore on, I could not stop thinking about her eyes. The color. I legit never thought I’d ever seen eyes such a clear, crisp green. To say they were gorgeous would be a huge understatement.

  “And don’t forget,” the professor spoke before letting us go for the day, “those group projects are coming up. Since they are worth thirty percent of your final grade, I do hope at least some of you take them seriously. I would start choosing partners if I were you. You don’t want me picking partners for you.”

  Ah, yes. If there was one thing all college students collectively hated with their entire being, it was group projects. It went without saying that, somehow, one person ended up doing it all while the others sat back and reaped the rewards. Professors said group projects were helping to get you ready for your workplace—in which case I could see it. Someone taking credit for all your hard work.

  The room was full of students trying to escape as quickly as possible once the professor quieted, but I noticed the pink-haired girl with the beautiful green eyes was taking her time, seemingly lost in her own world as she packed up, those eyes not really focusing on anything.

  She looked, for lack of a better word, sad.

  I packed up my laptop, though I didn’t really take many notes, my mind too unfocused, watching her as I got up. By the time I stepped out, most of the class had already gone. Out in the hall, I held my bag over my shoulder as I waited for her to come out—and when she did, her hair was just as blinding as it was inside the classroom.

  Standing there, I got a better view of her. She wore a baggy sweater, along with jeans that had such big tears in the legs, her entire knees were practically showing. She was short, too. Maybe five feet tall, no more, which put her almost a whole foot shorter than me. Beneath the clothes that did her body no favors, I could still tell she was small.

  Her eyes were on the ground as she exited the classroom, and without so much as a glance in my direction—or anyone else’s—she started walking away.

  I trailed after her, catching up to her as she pushed into one of the building’s many stairwells, heading down. Though I walked right beside her, she still didn’t look at me, and I couldn’t tell if she was purposefully ignoring me or so lost in her own head that she didn’t notice I was there. Either way, I was about to bust that wall down.

  The moment my foot hit the bottom of the stairwell, I said, “Hey, Pink.” Pink. Not the most creative nickname, but I couldn’t think of anything else, given how ungodly pink her hair was. Seriously. I bet in the sunlight that hair reflected so much light you could go blind if you stared at it too long.

  Though I bet she wanted to, she stopped before leaving the stairwell, moving aside to let other students pass as she turned those green eyes up at me. “Are you talking to me?” she asked, her eyebrows drawing together, as if she truly could not think of any possible reason why I’d want to speak with her.

  I threw a look around. “Anyone else with pink hair nearby?”

  Her lips pursed. Once again, unimpressed with my antics.

  “I’m Mason,” I said, trying to smooth over the tension between us. Was I annoying her? Did she want to run off and escape without talking to me more? She was always so quiet in class…I didn’t think I’d ever seen her talk to anyone, actually.

  She was quiet for a moment, though her eyes did size me up. “What do you want?” Her voice came out quiet, and I could hardly hear her. She looked absolutely uncomfortable.

  “I’ll settle for your name today,” I told her, meaning it. I could tell she wasn’t at ease with me, and I didn’t want to push her. Still, I couldn’t stop myself from wondering about her, from picturing those sparkling green eyes looking not so sad.

  She looked like she wanted to make like a deer and dart away, run as far away from me as her legs would allow. Still, I blocked her exit from the stairwell, so she had nowhere to run just yet. “Bree,” she finally spoke, giving me her name.

  “Well, Bree,” I said, giving her a smile that I hoped put her at ease, “I’ll see you Wednesday.” Sociology was the only class I shared with her, which was probably a good thing. She clearly needed some time away from me, and I needed to take a step back and try to cool myself down. I was getting way ahead of myself here.

  I took a step aside, letting her dart away. Bree said nothing to me as she brushed past, leaving without so much as a glance over her shoulder. That didn’t stop me from watching her go, though. My eyes lingered on her, my thoughts too, even after she was gone.

  There was something about that girl that I couldn’t stop thinking about. It was kind of silly, I knew, because I’d hardly spoken to her at all, but…I don’t know. Sometimes you just knew that things were only just beginning.

  As the day wore on, I found I could not get her out of my mind. I couldn’t focus in my other classes. And, hell, even at night, when I was at work, I couldn’t stop thinking about those eyes and that bright pink hair.

  So, during my break, I sat down and looked for her online. Granted, I only had her first name, so finding her took a bit of patience, but I did. The picture in her profile made me almost scan over it, but it was the look on her face that caught me, those same green eyes. She was inactive, never posting anything, and the picture was a few years old.

  She didn’t always have pink hair, apparently. Her natural hair was brown.

  Still, even in that picture, she didn’t look right. Surrounded by friends, a smile on her face, and yet something inside told me that smile was fake. As the night wore on, I decided that I’d try to get her to really smile, to get those green eyes to light up and those lips to curl in a sincere, genuine grin.

  I couldn’t say why I felt so strongly so quickly about this girl, but I did. I knew I couldn’t go back to sitting in my chosen seat in class in the middle towards the front. No, I had to sit beside her and pry back those layers she had positioned to protect herself.

  Oh, if there was one thing I was, it was stubborn.

  When Wednesday rolled around, I was
ready. Ready and eager to see her again. I made it to class before she did, plopping myself down in the same seat I’d taken up when I’d arrived late. I was in the process of pulling out my laptop when someone stood beside me, wanting to squeeze in past me to get to the chair on my left.

  I looked up, feeling a smile grow on my face as I met Bree’s concerned gaze. “Morning,” I said. I woke up early, prepared and ready. I’d ingested a hell of a lot of coffee to wake my ass up earlier and make sure I was mentally prepared for her.

  She said nothing, instead gazing around the room.

  “What? Don’t I get a morning back?” I asked, still grinning. “Don’t tell me you’re going to sit somewhere else, just because I’m here. If you do, I’ll just get up and follow you—so really, you should just give up and sit right here.” I reached over and patted the seat beside me.

  Bree sighed, closing her eyes as she forced herself to inch past me and sit beside me. Class hadn’t officially started yet, so we had some time. Today her pink hair was drawn in a braid across her shoulder, a beanie still on her head. She wore different jeans and a different sweater, but still, the aura she gave off was the same.

  It was more than obvious she didn’t want to talk. To me, to anybody. But you know what? That wasn’t going to stop me. If there was one thing I was, it was stubborn. Persistent. Unwilling to give up and throw down the towel.

  I leaned over to her, whispering, “Any thoughts on who you’re going to partner up with for the project?”

  Oh, yeah. I’d already thought of asking her to be my partner for it, but I knew if I did it now, she’d only turn me down. I wasn’t stupid. I just wanted to spend more time with her, for whatever reason. Call me crazy.

  “I emailed the professor and asked if I could do it alone,” Bree said, shooting an unimpressed glance my way.

  My heart actually skipped a beat at that. That was not something I’d taken into account. Damn it. My plan could be pointless, though talking to her more in general would make it worth it, still. “And what did he say?”

  “He said it’s called a group project for a reason,” Bree muttered, frowning to herself. “I have to have at least one partner.” She did not sound happy to tell me that the professor had denied her request to do the project alone.

  I mean, she had some balls, at least, having the courage to email the professor and ask in the first place. Most kids didn’t care enough to do anything like that. Or, I thought, maybe she just really hated everyone in class and abhorred the fact that she’d have to work with someone else.

  Someone like me.

  “You know,” I spoke, unable to stop smiling, “I don’t have a partner yet. I’m totally free, and I’d be more than happy to work with you.” At this point, we didn’t even know what the project would entail, but since this was a psychology class, I could assume it would involve making an experiment and conducting it, then analyzing the results.

  Bree looked at me, her eyebrows slightly furrowed as she studied me like I was some strange alien that just landed on Earth, like she didn’t know what to make of me, whether or not she could trust me. “Why would you want to work with me?” she asked, her voice quiet. “You don’t know me.”

  That much was obvious. What I thought should also be obvious was that I wanted to know her.

  Who was this girl, with the brightly-colored pink hair, loose sweaters, and expression that made me feel like I wanted to be with her, to shield her from the world? It was ridiculous, I knew: me, totally going overboard here for a stranger. I was drawn to her, I liked her. I couldn’t deny that. I wasn’t the type of person to be wishy-washy, to waver back and forth and never admit to myself what I wanted.

  No, for whatever reason, me sitting beside her on Monday had started something, ignited something deep within me I could not put out—nor did I want to. I had to know more about Bree, and working with her honestly felt like the easiest way.

  She, uh, didn’t seem like the kind of girl who appreciated someone pushing themselves into her life, but you know what? I didn’t care. I wasn’t going anywhere.

  I shrugged, taking a sip of coffee from my travel mug, which thoroughly disgusted her, if her face was anything to judge. “That’s the beauty of group projects,” I told her. “You’re forced to work with people you wouldn’t normally talk to. You never know—you and I might just get along great.”

  Bree let out a disbelieving chuckle. “Right.” She started to fiddle with her pen, doing anything she could to avoid looking at me.

  I let her be, knowing that she would be my partner, whether she realized it or not. There was no one else in this class I wanted to partner up with, no one else I wanted to spend quality time with outside of these walls. Her, though? I wanted to know more about this girl, and what better way than to hang out and work on school shit? Nobody liked doing school shit. There was no better way to bond.

  When Friday came, and the professor set aside the last fifteen minutes of class to jot down everyone’s groups and partners, I somehow managed to make her mine.

  Chapter Three – Bree

  I had no idea why Mason thought I would make the best partner in the entire class. Ever since he showed up late and sat next to me to try to avoid the professor’s dire glare, he’d been nonstop. Trying to talk to me, trying to joke with me, trying to…hell, I didn’t even know. I had no idea what Mason thought he was doing, why he wouldn’t just forget me and move on like everyone else in my life.

  Like, come on. Just because he had to sit beside me one day did not automatically mean he had to sit next to me forevermore, you know? But, unfortunately, it seemed he did not get the memo. Mason continued to sit by me, and the bastard became my partner for the psychology project.

  Great, I know. I was going to have so much fun with him.

  Sarcasm. Because I wasn’t. I never had fun anymore, but I knew for a fact that I would not have any fun whatsoever with him or his flippant, glib, annoyingly persistent attitude.

  I was so annoyed with him that I could not stop thinking about the smile he wore when he told the professor that he and I were partners. When the professor had looked to me for assurance, I’d been unable to do anything, still so shocked that he’d want to be my partner.

  No one ever wanted to be my anything. That was not an exaggeration, that was fact, learned in the last few years.

  Frankly, I didn’t know what Mason thought. Was he the kind of guy who tried his hardest to get in a girl’s pants, doing whatever he thought necessary to get there? Or, maybe, was he genuinely just trying to be my partner? I didn’t know which one would be worse.

  I could not stop thinking about his smile, nor his confidence, all day. All freaking day, all throughout the rest of my classes. It was silly, and also annoying to no end.

  What was worse? Mason was kind of cute. He had short, light brown hair that I bet got lighter in the sun, warm brown eyes that matched the color on top of his head. Dimples on his cheeks when he smiled, and teeth that were perfectly straight and white. Square chin, with a small cleft in its center. Clean-shaven.

  And, what was the absolute worst part of all of that? When he was telling the professor that he and I were partnering together, I got a whiff of him. I smelled him. And, by God, the boy didn’t smell awful.

  He smelled good, actually. Had to be his deodorant or something, or maybe I just never got close enough to another person to realize what they smelled like. I didn’t know.

  What I did know, however, was that these next few weeks were going to be terrible. The packet the professor gave everyone before letting class go was thick. We had to figure out an experiment to test a hypothesis, collect data, analyze that data, and then present the results to the class, in addition to whether or not we had to adjust our hypothesis. Beyond that, whatever we chose to work on only had to pertain to some sort of psychology.

  I honestly had no idea what we were going to do. I felt like everything had already been done ten times over. Hardly anything was new these da
ys; everything had been beaten with a dead horse for a long, long time. Nothing Mason and I could do would win us any awards.

  It was thirty percent of our final grade in the class though, so we did have to try, which meant—the horror—I had to see Mason outside of class. Probably on weekends. Which sucked. Weekends were my time to recuperate from the difficulties of the week and try to bolster myself up in preparation for the next week. It was a constant struggle, you know. I was not looking forward to having Mason mess my routine up.

  He’d tried to get my number out of me before I hurried away, but I couldn’t. I didn’t know why, but I couldn’t. Mason didn’t stop, though, for after I shook my head and told him no, he had a comeback ready.

  “Then let me give you mine,” he said, grinning that unstoppable smile. Such a strong expression, I had to look away.

  I didn’t want his number, but I guess he and I did have a project to do. God, this sucked majorly. “Fine,” I muttered, biting my bottom lip, wanting this whole day to be over. At least when I was in bed, staring at the ceiling, wishing I was asleep, I was alone and didn’t have to deal with…with other people.

  It was funny. Sometimes I hated being alone, but other times being alone was just what I wanted. Maybe because I was so used to it. Being alone was natural to me. Anything else just made me feel uncomfortable, which Mason clearly did not deduce from the way I acted around him.

  Mason then did something I wasn’t expecting: he stepped around me, grabbed my backpack, and pulled out one of my pens. He popped the cap, his warm amber eyes meeting mine as his hand found mine.

  My breathing stopped. He was warm, his skin soft. Or maybe that was just me being weird. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched me, let alone an attractive guy.

  I shouldn’t let his attractiveness affect me. I knew I shouldn’t. Mason would get tired of me like everyone else, and once this project was over, he and I would never talk again. He’d turn that cute, dimpled smile to another girl and go on with his life, totally forgetting about me.