Eve paused for a moment, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she recalled something. "Well, you know our form teacher, Ms. Bissette?"
He nodded, leaning in slightly, curious. "People say she rewards students who get high grades—if you know what I mean," she added, a teasing smirk playing on her lips.
Travis chuckled, shaking his head. "French people are passionate, as they say. Maybe she rewards them because she likes how passionate they are about her language." He said it with a hint of amusement, eyes sparkling.
Eve rolled her eyes, though the corners of her lips tugged into a smile. "Enough about that! Tell me about yourself. First, I noticed you changed your blonde hair. Did you want to try something new?" His tone was genuinely curious, warm, inviting.
A faint blush spread across her cheeks. She twisted a strand of her hair around her finger, avoiding his gaze for a brief moment, feeling a little self-conscious.
"What? Do you not like it?" she asked softly, almost whispering.
"No, I love this style," he replied, sincerity shining in his eyes. "You're really beautiful right now—not that you weren't before. I just… I like this new look."
Her heart fluttered violently at his words, cheeks warming further. No one had ever spoken to her like that before—so straightforward, yet so sincere—and for a moment she couldn't find the words to respond, caught between embarrassment and joy.
Travis has certainly changed, she thought, watching him from beneath her lashes. He's so much more mature now… and even better looking. He probably doesn't realize how many girls had crushes on him back in high school.
"Thank you, Travis," she said finally, her voice soft, yet carrying a brightness that lit her whole face. "Those words truly make me happy." She gave a small, genuine smile that reached her eyes. "As for myself… I don't even know where to start. And… I don't think this location is suited for that. Why don't we just talk at the park like we originally planned?"
"Sure! But let's grab something to eat first. I hope the food here is good, or I might just leave this school," he joked, leaning back casually.
Eve laughed—a light, melodic sound that seemed to hang in the air like a warm note of music. Her laugh made his chest tighten pleasantly, his mood lifting in an instant.
' I guess that's why those game developers liked her so much, ' he mused silently, a small smile tugging at his lips, appreciating the ease and lightness she brought to every word they shared.
When break ended, Travis and Eve headed to their next period: French. Travis slid into the seat he'd claimed that morning, deliberately choosing one close to Eve so he at least had someone to talk to. The chatter around him faded slightly as he focused on her presence, a comforting anchor amidst the classroom's chaos.
Ms. Bissette entered with a radiant smile that lit up the room. She stood in front of the class, her posture elegant and poised, and launched into a lecture about literature—everything said in flawless French. Travis barely understood a word.
' I hope this ends, because I'm going to die.' He thought in pain, silently massaging his temples as he tried to catch any familiar words.
The period finally ended, and relief washed over him like a tidal wave. Their next class was Music—the class of one of his favorite ladies in the game: Ms. DeWitt. She wasn't just beautiful; she had a curvaceous, bodacious figure that made him do a double take every time.
As soon as they entered, Ms. DeWitt's eyes immediately found Travis. Her lips curved into a playful wink. Without a hint of hesitation, he returned it, a quick, confident motion that spoke volumes. She caught it, and a slow, knowing smirk crept across her face.
' He's back.' She thought, her mind briefly drifting before snapping back to the lesson at hand.
Travis slid into his seat, trying to appear nonchalant as he waited for her to regain focus.
"Class, today we'll be learning how to read music. It's a difficult skill, but if you understand the basics, you'll do fine. Here are the five things you need to focus on:
• Think of Music as a Language.
• Focus on the Basic Symbols.
• Count Silently Every Time You Read.
• Practice Reading Music without Your Instrument.
• Pace Yourself.
"Firstly, you all need an instrument."
Travis watched as the others took out theirs, scanning the classroom for any extra instruments. None appeared.
Ms. DeWitt approached him, concern and warmth in her eyes. "Travis, I'm happy you're finally back at school. Honestly, due to your absence, the school didn't keep an instrument for you."
He nodded, then asked, "I understand. Could I bring my own instrument?"
She paused thoughtfully, then smiled. "Yes, you can. Which instrument do you play?"
"I play the keyboard. 'Straight Cap.' I have one at home, so I thought of bringing it."
"Perfect. You should first sign it up with the school so it's covered in case it gets stolen. I'll get you the sheet of paper. While you do that, why don't you sit back and just listen?" Her tone was gentle, her smile bright enough to melt any lingering frustration from the day.
Travis smiled back. Her smile alone could lift his mood, and her curvy figure—though he tried to ignore it—definitely made him momentarily distracted.
"Alright then," he muttered to himself, walking back to his seat. As she began teaching, every word seemed to embed itself into his mind. He absorbed it all naturally, like his brain was wired for this. It was… almost frightening how easily it stuck.
When the period ended, Ms. DeWitt called him aside. "Eve, you can wait outside," he told her, and she stepped out politely.
"There's a talent show in two months. If you perform, I'll give you extra credit. Take this paper. And remember to sign your instrument, okay?"
He nodded earnestly, feeling a spark of motivation. With that, he left the classroom. Eve joined him, and together they walked toward their second-to-last class of the day: Arts.
After entering the classroom, just like before, the teacher immediately called out to him.
"Travis! You're here!" she exclaimed, her eyes slightly droopy, giving her a dreamy, almost dazed appearance, as if she were floating somewhere between reality and a daydream. Her enthusiasm radiated outward, filling the room with warmth.
"Oh, come on, I'm nothing special. I'm just like the rest," he replied, trying to keep humble despite the obvious excitement in her tone.
"Now, you don't have to lie," she said, a knowing smile spreading across her face. "You and Eve are the best students I've ever had. And don't tell her this," she leaned in slightly, lowering her voice conspiratorially, "but I actually prefer you more." Her words carried a teasing edge. "Sit down; we'll talk more after class."
Travis went in, inwardly rolling his eyes. He was honestly bored with teachers wanting to have private words with him.
' Can't they just let me get in and slack off like I normally do? ' he thought, leaning back slightly in his chair. ' I honestly can't wait for tomorrow, when everyone will start seeing me as normal.'
Ms. Ross began the lesson with a calm, commanding voice.
"What is Art? Art is the expression or application of human creative skill and imagination, typically in a visual form such as painting or sculpture, producing works to be appreciated primarily for their beauty or emotional power. Everyone can be an artist—you just need to have an artist's mindset. That doesn't mean following someone else's path; instead, you need to make your own."
Travis remembered the sketches he had drawn before, realizing he still had a natural flair. It had been a while, but he felt a spark of excitement at the thought of picking up a pencil again.
' I've always been pretty good at art. Never really saw it as anything special before, but now I can honestly show off my skill' he thought, a small grin tugging at his lips.
He glanced sideways at his desk mate: Mia, his childhood friend. They had grown distant over the years, largely because of her strict mother, but seeing her brought back a wave of nostalgia.
"Travis, it's nice to finally talk to you!" Mia said, her smile radiant enough to light up her whole face. "I wish I could've come to speak with you earlier, but my mom is such a pain. How have you been?"
"Fine, I guess. What about you? Last I checked, your mom was an extreme dictator," he replied, earning a soft laugh from her.
"She still is, and I don't like it. I kind of wish things could go back to how they were before…" Her voice trailed off, carrying a subtle sadness.
After a moment of silence, she perked up again, determination shining in her eyes. "Hey, since you're back at school, why don't we study together? I can help you with revision and stuff."
"That would be great. Should we go to the library?" he asked, eager to shift the conversation to something lighter and more productive.
"Yes, that's perfect! When should we start?" she replied, practically bouncing with enthusiasm.
"Why don't we start tomorrow? Today I'm hella busy," he said, trying to keep the tone casual and light.
Mia nodded, pulling out her phone with a quick, practiced motion. "You can put your number in my phone. That way we can discuss anything we don't understand when we're studying."
"Won't your mom kill you if she finds out I put my number in your phone?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in mock concern.
"No, she doesn't check it for some reason, so I'm perfectly fine," she assured him with a grin. "But we should concentrate now—Ms. Ross doesn't do any revision anyway."
Both of them refocused as Ms. Ross moved toward the front, her hands gesturing gracefully as she explained the power of creativity and imagination. Unlike other classes, this one didn't demand strict note-taking.
Students listened, absorbed, and then applied what they had learned in their own work. For Travis, this was fascinating—an environment where ideas flowed freely, and the only limit was his imagination.
' Pretty awesome class, ' he thought, leaning in slightly, ready to see where his creativity could take him.
TO BE CONTINUED