It didn't take me long to realise that I was lost.

I had been wondering through the half-empty halls to find my fellow American friends that had told me to meet them in front of the library, left side of the cafeteria. But being the newby on their first day of school, I had no idea where the hell that was. American schools are bigger than I thought they would be.

My Australian ass will have to take some time to adjust to this.

Continuing to pass through doors after door, I began to realise that the hallway was getting quieter and quieter. Then, I came to a halt, rearing my eyes around as I realized that there were zero students left in this section of the school. Hopelessly, I dropped my arms in frustration, still holding onto the lunch box that was clenched in my right fist, containing my own home-made Hainanese chicken rice.

I was already lost, so I decided to continue walking. If I'm going to be lost, I may as well eat my tremendously delicious lunch someplace nice on campus.

As I persisted to walk further and further, I began to walk past empty rooms, unpainted walls, and plastic covered items spread out across the floor. It's either that the school is renovating this part of the school, or they're just embarrassingly disorganised. I'm assuming it's the latter.

The quietness was gradually alleviating. Clamour from the other students had disappeared by now, as the only sound that I could hear was the sound of my footsteps clicking against the floor. A warm glow from the sun tinted the hallway through the glass windows, alongside the gentle sound of demurely soft trees wavering in the wind outside. I smirked to myself, enjoying the fact that I was by myself in the school.

However, that 5 second moment ended quickly after hearing the sound of a voice, paired with the strum of a guitar that echoed faintly in the distance. I stood there, trying my best to focus my attention on the distant noise. Taking small, cat-like steps towards the unknown sound, I stopped beside a door where the voice sounded almost transparent. I leant into the door, pushing my ear up against the cold wooden surface, placing my right fist over my lips to control the sound of my breathing. Somehow, this seemed to fail as I began to listen to the voice that rendered through the door. The voice was limpidly smooth, yet slightly husky and soft in a way that screamed a thousand emotions.

It was a guy's voice.

'Moon… river… wider than a mile, I'm crossing you in style, someday…'

His voice rolled over hills and flowed in rhythmic waves, alongside swells of power that arose from his throat as he reached higher notes.

My eyes widened a bit, and I felt the corners of my lips turn upwards.

I knew this song.

Standing there, listening to the voice in the next room, was one of the most comforting things that have happened to me during my time in America. That, and talking to my brother, Keon after we snuck into a club on my first night in America.

Impulsively and not thinking clearly, my hand wrapped around the knob of the door and slowly twisted it. The voice came to a pause and the guitar lingered on its last string as I began to gradually creak the door open. No turning back now…

I stepped into the room, feeling the sunlight beam onto my face as I entered. And there it was; the voice. He was sitting on a stool beside a grand piano that faced a large casement window. He had the chic, undercut dirty blonde hairstyle, only with slightly longer locks that fell perfectly in front of his eyes. His skin was a pinkish-white, which made it obviously clear that he was white. He wore an oversized white graphic tee, slim-fitted light-washed jeans and bottomed his outfit with a pair of air jordans.

He turned his gaze towards mine, lasering his eyes into my own. They were blue. Ocean blue.

'.. Um..' he uttered beneath his breath, shifting his position, standing up as if he were about to run away.

Out of nowhere, I came back to my senses and became aware of the awkward situation I was in. I stepped back, scratching the back of my head.

'I am… so sorry, I--' I took a moment to study his expression. If facial expressions could sound like something, his face would be screaming. He looked afraid. '-- I was looking for my friends. I wondered into the wrong room, sorry.' the way I said it, sounded blunt and careless.

He sat there for a second, looked me up and down, toe straight to head. 'Nobody comes here, though.' he spoke softly yet demandingly. His talking voice was as graceful has his singing voice.

'Right, I am… new here,' I smiled, shot a finger gun at him as a said it.

He paused. 'You're not from here, are you?'

'Ah,' I stammered, 'no I'm from Australia. I'm actually an ABC if you know what tha--'

'Did you hear anything?' he interrupted, clearly flustered.

I looked intently at him for a moment. 'If I did?'

He studied me and squinted his eyes. Placing his guitar amongst the surface of the stool, he stood up and slowly treaded closer towards me. His steps were dreading and gradual, while I stood there, leaning against the surface of the wall. The unknown boy extended his right arm beside my head, leaning inwards so he towered over me with our faces less than 15 cm apart. This is when I realised, he had faint freckles sprinkled at the tip of his nose. His eyelashes were also longer than my own, thicker too. The last thing I recognised, were his eyes.

God, his eyes were really something. They were blue.

Ocean blue.

I felt his warmth as I breathed him in. He smelt like that weird scent that you would smell on a late summer's night.

'I don't know. Did you?' he asked innocently. His eyes beamed into my own, and I stared back willingly in a fight for dominance.

I steadily breathed, 'You were playing "Moon River", right?' his head tweaked upwards. 'Yeah, I um… my mom used to sing that song to me when I was younger. It was her favourite song.'

I facepalmed, realising that I had just spouted something personal. He was still for a second. Then, he pursed his lips and nodded to himself, dropping his chin to his chest, muttering something to himself which I would assume was a small and quiet "Jesus Christ". He turned around and ran his hands through his hair.

I stepped in front of the door, 'I… I'm sorry I disturbed your music practice. I'll take my leave now.' I muttered the last part under my breath, mentally face-palming at the situation.

'Ok, wait- hold it there, new girl.' Before opening the door, his hand wrapped around my palm and spun me around just barely, and like jelly, I let him. As we faced each other awkwardly, his arm was extended in front of me, holding my hand with a small squeeze. My eyes trailed downwards and stared at his hand enveloping my own, the warmth of his palm on mine.

The boy, who was still nameless, followed my eyes and suddenly gawked at our held hands in a panic. 'Let go.' I sternly remarked.

His expression had seemed to transition from condescendingly devious to wholly innocent as if he were snapped back to reality. In an instant, he dropped my hand which left my arm to collapse beside me. He nervously rubbed the nape of his neck, diverting his gaze to the floor. 'I'm sorry.'

I shifted my weight to my left, popping my right hip to the side in an attempt to disregard the awkwardness that was installed between us. 'What do you want…?'

He dipped his hands into his jean pockets. 'Can you keep this… quiet?' I raised a brow at him and crossed my arms. What is this guy? 'Like, can you keep this a secret-- that you saw me here with a guitar and… singing.'

I took a small step closer, squinting my eyes at him. 'Why?'

He was quiet for a second, pondering to himself. 'I have a reputation here.'

Reputation? 'Reputation…?'

'Yeah.' he breathed, again, looking at me with a purely oh-so honest face that looked as if he had never told a lie in his life.

'What… are you Mr popular or something?' I teasingly laughed. He pursed his lips and gave a small nod.

'I wouldn't call it "popular", but… look, I know people. People know me.'

'Whatever…' I whispered, waving my hands around. 'What does that have to do with you playing guitar and singing?'

He grunted, sighed and sat back down on the stool he was previously sitting on, picked up his guitar and rested it on his lap. 'You… don't get it. I don't want people to expect something from me.' I stayed silent and judged him quietly. 'You're judging me.' he said, somehow assured.

A laugh escaped my lips, 'No, I'm not judging you. I'm judging your cowardice.'

It was his turn to laugh now. 'Excuse me?'

I shrugged. 'Ok, look. If you want me to keep this a secret,' I leaned in closer, rested my elbows on my lap and lolled my head in my palms, 'then you should prove to me that it deserves to be kept secret.'

'... What?'

'Play me a song. Show me that your talent is worth keeping a secret. Simple.' I innocently chimed, giving him a small smile.

He laughed doubtingly, 'I'm not doing that.'

'Alright,' I gave him a strident pat on the back and rose from the seat, heading towards the door.

'Ok- wait, wait…' he sighed with a small groan at the end, 'Come back here. Just… just let me think of something.'

I moderately sat back down again, watching him closely as he leant down beside his stool and grasped the neck of his guitar. Silence consumed the empty room, only the faint sound of tree-leaves that bustled in the wind could be heard. 'You don't have to be so… stubborn.' he mumbled the last thing underneath his breath, exhaling as his eyes gently closed. Sitting in silence once again, I waited for his voice and his accompanied guitar to begin playing.

Then, his lips parted and his fingers began forbearingly strumming his guitar.

'Someday, when I'm awfully low…

And the world is cold

I will feel a glow just thinking of you ~

And the way you look tonight…'

I gazed at him with nothing particular in my mind. For the first time in a long time, my mind felt clear and empty of overthinking thoughts and small anxieties that I knew, didn't matter.

His voice reminded me of a cappuccino with a perfect milk-frothed heart. His voice also reminded me of the first paintbrush stroke of colour over a sketch. It also reminded me of the feeling of diving into bed after a long day. There were a lot of things.

His voice was aesthetically pleasing and wholesomely attractive.

'With each word…

your tenderness grows

Tearing my fear apart ~

And that laugh that wrinkles your nose

It touches my foolish heart ~'

At the time, I hadn't realised that I was smiling in a direly brightened way. He was singing "The Way You Look Tonight" by Fred Astaire.

'Lovely

Never ever change

Keep that breathless charm

Won't you please arrange it?

'Cause I love you ~

just the way you look tonight'

I watched him in a daze, unaware of the corners of my lips that were upturned. The way he closed his squeezed his eyes shut when he reached higher notes, the rise of vocal power that would arise in his throat with certain lyrics, made me alert of how much he valued his passion.

'Just the way you look tonight…'

His hand stopped and he slowly opened his eyes, revealing his sparkling eyes. The skin around his eyes was faintly reddened in a peachy colour. I panicked a bit. 'A-are you crying…?!'

'What?! No, I just… I like that song. A lot.'

A small laugh escaped my lips, only before my hands clapped around my mouth. 'Sorry. That's… nice. I actually know that song too, "The Way You Look Tonight" by Fred Astaire, right?'

He gave a childish grin and nodded. 'Yeah. Wow.'

'What?'

He bit his bottom lip and shook his head hall-heartedly. 'Nothing. It's just, the only other person who could probably identify that song without me saying it already, is probably my Aunt Adrienne.' Offbeatedly, I felt a sense of validation and accomplishment as he said that.

'So… do you like Fred Astaire or Frank Sinatra's version?'

'Fred Astaire.'

'What?'

'No…' I disapproved.

'Yep.'

He furrowed his eyebrows, smirking a bit. 'Fred Astaire IS the original.'

'Oh, I see. You're an "original" freak.'

'Did you just call me a freak? That hurt…' he snickered sarcastically.

I smiled back at him. 'Look, Fred Astaire's voice just isn't my type.'

He clutched the t-shirt fabric clothed around his chest jokingly, 'How dare you…?'

'He sounds like a whale that swallowed plastic…!'

'It's not like Frank Sinatra sounds any better. If we're comparing them both to animals, he sounds like a drunk, mood-swingy camel.'

Hopelessly, we both broke into a dulcet moment of soft laughter, regarding our juvenile, quite-literally pointless conversation.

We talked about nothing in particular. We talked about everything and nothing, agreed and disagreed. Our conversation didn't have anything worth remembering or taking note of. But, it was the feeling of being in a conversation that I had, in fact, undeniably really liked.

I didn't know if it was just me or maybe it was the school-time period difference between American and Australian school lunch breaks- but this lunch break seemed to be never-ending.

And then the bell went.

He heaved himself up from the chair first, zipping his guitar back in its case and slid it behind the back of the piano.

'So… you don't even want people to know you play the guitar, huh?' I asked, standing up too.

He shrugged. 'Someday, you'll look at me again one day and understand,' he sighed, 'trust me on that.'

We walked out of the empty room and back into the half-renovated hallways. The two of us treaded side by side, which allowed me to come to the consciousness of his height. I felt myself jolt at the precipitated realisation; he's definitely over 6 feet. I wonder what the girls at this school think of him.

He turned his head towards me (well, down at me) and gave me a perplexed eye. 'Something wrong?'

I shook my head, cleared my throat and swung my arms behind me. 'Oh- um, it's nothing. I just realised we don't even know each other's names.'

The guy let out a single "ha" and ran his fingers through his dirty-blond hair, letting his forelocks fall back in front of his eyes effortlessly. 'Yeah, I mean-- I just realised that too.'

I smiled. 'I'm Ivy.'

'Dmitri Remington.'

I raised a brow. 'Oh, we're doing last names? Well, I guess I'm Ivy Lee.'

'Oh, I uh… like your name.'

'Really? I always thought it sounded weird or maybe… basic?'

'No, not really. It's different.'

'Thanks.'

'...You should know, most people here don't usually call me "Dmitri",' he said, 'you'll find them calling me Mitri or sometimes Mitty. My closer friends call me "dim sim" sometimes.'

'I guess I'll call you either of those then.'

'It's not that I don't like my full name, I'm just… used to it.'

'Ok. Well, if my three-lettered name troubles you,' I joked, 'then my friends sometimes call me "V" for short.'

He grinned. 'Alright then.'

He smiled back at me and I stared at him back. I wasn't so sure about how I looked to him, but I began to feel vaguely self-conscious of it. So, I quickly averted my head away.

The sound of rapid footsteps and chatter began to become faint now, meaning, we were back in the hub of school grounds. Dmitri opened the main entrance door to the class hall with the back of his palm, leaning against the door and signalled his hand for me to walk out. 'Ah- thanks.' I awkwardly stammered. I lunged through the door and stretched my arms out in front of me. I turned around to face him again, both of us staring at each other quietly.

Dmitri stepped closer and gave me one last look before he directed his gaze over my head. 'Oh-- hey.' he murmured.

I looked over my shoulder and noticed another guy trudging over in our direction. He was nearly the same height as Dmitri, only more bulk carried over his shoulders. His hair was a temple fade and he had a single piercing on his left ear with a varsity jacket slung over his right shoulder. 'Hey,' he panted slightly, 'where 'you been?'

Dmitri swallowed before he answered. 'I had a meeting with the head coach, so I was over there.'

He lied.

The unknown guy before me twisted his expression, confused. 'Another one? He sure is serious about you, huh? This is favouritism.' he laughed.

Dmitri gave a simple shrug and laughed too.

'Ok-- well, 'll see you out there then.' the guy slapped Dmitri on the back, peering at me for a second before waving. And he was gone.

Dmitri pointed his index finger in the other guy's direction. 'That-- over there,' I looked over in his finger's direction, 'that was Keito.'

'Wow, I'm learning a lot of names for my first day of school here.' I said. His answer was delayed a few beats, making me wonder if I had said something wrong. 'What?'

'I just realised you have an accent.'

There it is. 'Yeah, I'm um… Australian. Remember I told you back there?'

'Sorry about that. I was just... freaking out before because someone found me. I'm glad it was you.' he whispered, as a random throng of warmness formed in my chest. 'But hey, Aussie, huh?'

'Yep… isn't as interesting as you think it is…'

He puckered his lips and scratched his head. 'No- it's still interesting to me.'

Before I could tune in to hear the rest of Dmitri's sentence, I saw my friends in the distance, Eloi and Summer, who had also taken notice of me. Summer waved over at me energetically with a face that screamed: "where the hell were you". Her wave was then decelerated and gradually sank beside her hip. Her face seemed to be swarmed over with revelation. I watched her in the background, nudging Eloi and pointing her index finger in my direction, which seemed to be aimed at BOTH Dmitri and me. I stared back at them, confused before Dmitri tapped my shoulder.

'Ivy…?' the way he said my name seemed unearthly graceful that I instantly turned my attention back to him again.

'Hm? Sorry, it's just, my friends are over there.'

He lifted his gaze over my shoulder and returned it to me quickly. 'Oh. Alright, well, I'll leave you to them, then.'

I grinned at the sound of my name leaving his lips. 'Yeah. See you around.'

I walked over to my friends and gave him a small wave over my shoulder, and he did the same, only walking in the opposite direction. My lips morphed into a smirk and I twisted my head over to Summer and Eloi, who were giving me half-eccentric looks.

'...Hey,' I mumbled.

Eloi cleared his throat and stepped closer to me. 'Do you know who you were just talking to?'

I raised my shoulders to my ears mindlessly. 'Does it matter?'

Eloi stretched out his mouth to (presumably) say something breathtaking in my face, only before Summer gripped his shoulder and pushed him back.

'Doesn't matter, V. Eloi's just… being weird.' she frowned, eyeing him alarmingly.

'Ok…'