Chapter Text
Annie was enraged .
How dare that asshole take her spot?!
From across the street, Annie glared at the black-haired stranger with as much ferocity and anger she could muster. Who was she to sit in Annie’s corner? (It’s not like Annie technically owned it or anything...just that she sat in the same corner every single day after her 6:00 PM lecture was over, waiting for the 6:40 bus home.) The girl could sit literally anywhere else across their vast campus...so why did she have to choose the one spot that Annie liked?
These were the questions Annie pondered as she swore under her breath, willing the girl to leave as she clenched her fists. That is, until someone gently nudged her from behind.
“Uh...you know when the cross-walk sign is green you can go, right?”
Annie turned her head slowly at the sound, fixing the person who’d dared to speak to her with a cold, vicious stare. The unsuspecting victim recoiled and hurried forward, leaving Annie to stew in peace.
She remained across the street while she watched as the girl stooped down and opened the case she had with her, pulling out a black acoustic guitar. Annie sneered at how pretentious the girl seemed. A black guitar to match her perfect black hair, because a regular acoustic guitar would have thrown off her image or something, Annie guessed. She wore a dark grey utility jacket over her maroon hoodie, and (of course) black converse shoes with dark skinny jeans. Annie figured she was probably some uppity music major, and, upon seeing a free corner, decided to push her mediocre playing on the unsuspecting public.
The more Annie scrutinized her, the more irritated she became, and she slammed the crosswalk button (which had already been pressed by someone else) and stalked towards the girl, dropping her backpack with loud thud in front of her.
“You need to move.”
When the girl most definitely didn’t move, and instead looked lazily up at Annie through her bangs before returning her attention back to her guitar, Annie was shocked. Had she not heard her? Usually, on the rare occasion Annie spoke to someone, they’d listen to her. Though she wasn’t imposing physically (fancy language for being short) she was known among her classmates as someone who was harsh and uncompromising; the very last person they’d want to work with on a group project. She’d even heard a rumor once that she’d dislocated a classmate’s shoulder for attempting to delegate work to her in a project, a rumor she quite enjoyed. They didn’t know that she adopted her cold persona to limit social interaction and keep people at a comfortable distance, but she preferred not to explain herself. That way more ridiculously fearsome rumors would arise about her and she could reap the benefits without having to lift a finger. Needless to say, with the kind of reputation she had, when Annie told someone to move, they’d move. Except, apparently, this girl.
Annie stood with her arms crossed, watching as the girl plucked a few strings and turned the tuning pegs to adjust their sound.
“Don’t you have a music room you could do this in?”
Finally the girl stopped, tossing her head to move her bangs out of her vision. Annie’s heart stuttered momentarily as she took in the girl’s slate-colored eyes, their shape pronounced by naturally long eyelashes and a thin smudge of charcoal liner along her top lids.
Her lips, painted a faint bubblegum pink, curled into a frown.
“You don’t own this corner. It’s a public space.”
Annie didn’t budge. “A public space that I have sat in every single day for the entire semester, 6:00 PM to 6:40 PM.”
The girl didn’t respond, instead choosing to survey Annie from her head to her toes. Suddenly Annie felt insecure about her clothes, wondering if maybe she should have chosen something more intimidating rather than the outfit she had on. Her all black ensemble of shorts, tights, high top sneakers and button up cardigan over a muted blue zip-up hoodie didn’t scream “don’t fuck with me” as loudly as a leather jacket and combat boots would have. Then again, she didn’t think she’d be forced to pick a fight over something so stupid today.
Annie tapped her foot impatiently. “If you’re done appraising me, you can leave now.”
One corner of the girl’s mouth turned up into a slight smile as she lifted an eyebrow. “We can both sit here, you know.”
“And listen to you play that thing? No thanks.”
The girl shrugged and strummed a chord, humming softly to herself. She adjusted the tuning pegs again, and, after a moment, began playing a tune, seemingly pleased with the sound.
Annie was beyond irritated with the girl’s indifference. Well, fine. If she was going to be whatever about it, so would Annie. She pulled out her phone and saw that she still had about twenty minutes until the bus came, and picked up her backpack, settling a few paces away from the girl.
She rummaged around in her backpack noisily, hoping to throw the girl off, but she kept on playing without a hitch, smiling softly to herself after she nailed a particularly tricky riff.
Annie pulled out the book she had been looking for but instead of reading it, she found herself watching the girl’s nimble fingers as they flitted across the guitar strings, pressing and strumming and sliding to create the most entrancing music Annie had heard in a long time.
Dammit.
She was good.
Passerbys seemed to agree too as a few would meander, taking in the sounds and even placing a few bills in her guitar case after listening for a while.
It seemed as if time stopped when Annie watched her play; she wasn’t sure if the girl was making up the music as she went, but to Annie it sounded like some kind of symphony crafted from deep within her soul. She watched as the girl’s chest rose and fell in time to the beat, mesmerized as her eyes closed in concentration, her lips parting and drawing in a quick breath when she’d change time. Sometimes, she’d tap the guitar lightly with her strumming hand, keeping rhythm during an upbeat tune. She didn’t look up from her guitar once, Annie noticed, as her own book lay forgotten next to her bag.
Annie almost missed her bus that day.