A/N: So, I had the first of my mid-terms yesterday and it went great. Needless to say I am in a great, sharing mood. So I wanted to surprise you guys with an early update. Now this is a very, very long chapter. So it should keep you warm for awhile. I thank very much for the great comments, you guys leave behind every single update and I really hope you'll keep on feeding me. And for now, until next chap!

PS: I haven't proofed it, cause I'm kinda beat so pardon me for any mistakes you will most probably read.

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8.20. She wasn't going to come wasn't she? God, I'm such a fool for thinking that Alex would actually come over to her arch nemesis' house. Why did I care so much about her anyway? Oh yeah, I remember. She kinda made-out with me and I sorta enjoyed it. Or maybe I was just pissed that I had ordered one large pizza, and that it was going to go to total waste. Yup, that must be it.

I was about to plop myself on the couch and drown in self-pityness when I heard the doorbell ring. I walked towards the door, trying not to get my hopes up too much, knowing that it could be anyone. I open up and surprise, surprise …

"Alex!" I exclaimed a little too loud.

"Princess." She nodded.

"I thought you weren't gonna come." I said while fiddling with my hands.

"I thought you invited me over." She responded with a smirk.

"Yeah, but you're kinda late."

"Oh come on. Never heard of the term 'fashionably late'? And here I thought you had royal blood." She feigned shock.

I rolled my eyes and gave her a trademark glare. I've been giving a lot of those lately.

"So …" I said, trying to start a conversation.

"So are you gonna let me in, or are we gonna work on the doorsteps?" she chortled.

"Oh right. Sorry .." I blushed as I let her in through the doorway.

"I thought we could work in my bedroom if that's okay with you?"

"Beats me .." she shrugged.

"Uhm, I hope you like pizza's with pepperoni-topping?" I said in a sing-song voice.

"Hey, any free food is good food with me." She said while raising her eyebrows.

I laughed at her comment (I've been doing that lately a lot too) and brought her upstairs to my room. I could practically read the amusement of her face.

"What's so funny?" I said while rolling my eyes.

" I was just thinking: 'Gee, I wish I had a room just like yours'" she replied sarcastically.

"What, jealous of my mega-cool room?" I grinned.

"Oh yeah. Gosh, pink really is the new black isn't it?" She said in her best Valley girl-voice

"Uhu, if you want I can come and decorate yours?" I said a little too flirtingly than I had planned.

"Yeah." She said with a more serious tone, dropping down her gaze to the ground. Way to spoil the mood again, Paige!

"Uhm so, poetry!" I said trying to break the tension.

"Yeah, poetry!" she replied.

"I think the bed's probably the most comfortable place we can sit on. You go ahead and sit down, I'm gonna grab the pizza from downstairs and get some drinks." I said while pointing towards the bed.

"Cool." She nodded.

I headed downstairs and grabbed the pizza and drinks before quickly heading back up. Once I entered my room and I found her huddled over a box in a corner. I contemplated whether I should interrupt her or not. I had a urge to simply let her do whatever she wanted, as long as I could watch. Just simply watch her being her. Study her assets, her movements, her expressions, everything that makes Alex the girl she is. I observed her for a few minutes while she ruffled through the box, with a certain gentleness, as if she was afraid to damage the contents.

"So, I see you found my secret stash of vintage vinyl's." I smiled as I put the pizza and beverage on the bed.

"I'm sorry, I was j-just watching …" she stuttered. Wow, Alex apologized and stuttered, that's a first.

"Alex, it's okay. I have no problem with it. Watch, all you want. It might earn my room a couple of much needed cool points." I laughed.

"You got some classic records down here." She stated surprised.

"You act shocked." I chuckled.

"Yeah well, I thought you were more into Britshit and Slutina." She laughed as she looked me straight in the eye.

"Well, there are a lot of things you don't know about me." I said while mimicking her tone earlier that day.

She flashed me a genuine smile, and hovered back over the box to look through the LP's again.

"Seriously though, The Beatles?" she asked me in disbelief.

I rolled my eyes again and made my way towards her. I sat cross-legged on the floor next to her and left a respectable margin between us. Trying as hard as I could not to ruin the light mood like I already had done.

"A few years ago, Marco dragged me to one of those flea markets and-"

"Wait, wait. You in a flea market? Please, tell me you took pictures?" she asked highly amused.

"I'm telling you, if you let this out to anyone I'm going to haunt you down like a dog." I warned with a threatening finger pointed to her.

"I won't tell, I promise. Cross my heart." She grinned.

"Good. Anyway, I was telling a story before I was rudely interrupted." I stated while staring her down. She held up her hands in apologetic behaviour and gestured me to continue.

"So, I was shuffling through the market, beyond bored when suddenly I see the most amazing thing ever. And I mean like, ever ever. And to my own surprise it wasn't a Dolce Gabbana-outfit or the latest Ipod-device, not that you find those things in flea markets anyway." I said while shrugging my shoulders. She flashed me a large smile again and urged me to carry on.

"Anyway, it was this small portable phonograph in a polished mahogany suitcase. And the thing is, I barely ever had seen one in my entire life and yet I was intrigued the moment I saw it. It's just, I can't explain it, but I was immediately drawn by it. I was head over heels, and I just had to have it. And the guy that sold it to me handed me two Beatles-records on top of it. And I remember like the first week, I didn't even dare to touch it. I just put it on my drawer and, drank in the beauty or whatever. But you know soon, I actually learned how to play the records and that's when I fell in love for the second time. But this time it was with The Beatles. Which kinda sums up my love-life of the last few years." I said while rolling my eyes and it earned me a soft chuckle.

" … And ever since, I've been rummaging flea market after flea market, in the hope to find some rare LP's. But again, that's my secret and nobody has to know about it." I jokingly threatened her.

Stillness filled the room again, as I saw her eyes shift from the LP's to my eyes, only to be averted back to the records.

" I'm sorry, I can babble people's heads off obviously. You probably loathe me even more now." I said while letting out a nervous laugh.

"No, it's cool. That was an interesting story to say the least." She said sincerely.

Our eyes locked again. And this time neither of us shifted our gazes. Green orbs met chestnut browns and mixed into a story of their own. I felt her soul slowly pouring into mine as I experienced the same sensations I felt that blissful night. My breathing slowly quickened as I underwent a fluttery feeling in my stomach. I shifted my eyes from hers towards her full lips, and I notice that they're slightly parted. I could've sworn that I saw her tongue gently lick her lips, but my mind could've simply been playing tricks on me. I saw her lips move and I heard a faint voice in the background. Not registrating what was said, I simply kept on observing her lips. Suddenly aware of how moronic I was probably looking, I quickly shook my head of all my thoughts.

"I'm sorry, what?" I asked hoarsely.

"I said we should probably get to that poem."

"Uhm, yeah you're right." I said nervously, before quickly getting up.

"The pizza's probably too cold to eat." I said guiltily.

"It's okay, I wasn't that hungry in the first place." She shrugged, while getting up herself.

"Okay well, let's start then!" I exclaimed, once I plopped myself on the bed. I patted the space next to me indicating for her to sit by me. She followed my suit and gently placed herself on the mattress. I put the copy of the poem between us, so that we could both read it properly.

"Okay, so like you already know the first poem is titled "To a Lady Seen for a Few Moments at Vauxhall". Aaand I read it earlier on, aaand I don't get it." I said bluntly.

"Read it." She said.

'I already read it." I answered, not really understanding her.

"Not like that. I mean, read it now. Out loud. Read it." She ordered.

"Okay …" I let out a hesitantly.

"So … I have to warn you; my poetry-voice sucks." I said meekly.

She rolled her eyes, and gestured to start reading.

"Okay … 'To a Lady Seen for a Few Moments at Vauxhall'

Time's sea hath been five years at its slow ebb,
Long hours have to and fro let creep the sand,
Since I was tangled in thy beauty's web,
And snared by the ungloving of thine hand.
And yet I never look on midnight sky,
But I behold thine eyes' well memory'd light;
I cannot look upon the rose's dye,
But to thy cheek my soul doth take its flight.
I cannot look on any budding flower,
But my fond ear, in fancy at thy lips
And hearkening for a love-sound, doth devour
Its sweets in the wrong sense: - Thou dost eclipse
Every delight with sweet remembering,
And grief unto my darling joys dost bring.." I said, ending the last part breathlessly.

"So…" she said.

"So, I still don't get it." I let out frustrated.

"See, that's your problem. You're focusing too much on the 'understanding' part. You don't analyze a poem just like that." She said while snapping her fingers for emphasis.

"Than how do I do it." I whined.

"Well for starters. You read the poem for a few times, not just once." She chuckled.

"Okay, I get it. Read poem more than once." I moaned.

"Then you search for possible word groups."

"Word groups?" I asked.

"Word groups." She replied.

"Okay, care to enlighten me any further …"

"Well, if you look carefully you'll see that there are a couple of words that belong to the same group: word groups." She stated matter-of-factly.

"Sounds logical."

"It is logical. Look.", she said while pointing to the poem with a pencil "The poem starts with the word 'Time', and if you read further you'll read several other words that indicate time. You got: 'five years', 'Long hours', 'midnight'. And next to that you also got words that imply time, like: 'slow', 'Since', 'never', 'memory'd', 'remembering'-"

" 'For a few moments' .." I interrupted. "Titles count too, right?"

"Right." She grinned.

"So what does this tell us exactly?" I asked suddenly engrossed.

"Well, it tells us what this poem focuses on."

"Time?"

"Pretty much, yeah." She shrugged.

"And that's it? The poem is about time?"

"Hang on Princess. That's part 1 of the analyses. There are several other word groups in there." She stated while motioning towards the paper.

"Which ones." I asked.

"Uh, last time I checked this was a partner-assignment." She snorted.

"Oops, sorry. It's just that you seem to be this big poetry-specialist and I'm .. not."

"Well, you're here to learn." She beamed.

"Okay, so um. 'Midnight sky', 'rose's dye', 'budding flower' what does that lead too?" she asked while staring my in the eye.

"I don't know .. Nature?" I alleged, tentatively.

"Exactly. And 'eyes', 'cheek', 'lips'? she enquired.

"Faces?"

"Bingo."

"So that's like two extra word groups?" I asked

"Yes."

"So the poem is about time, nature and faces?"

"Okay. You really need to learn to look deeper into things and start making some links." She laughed.

"Ugh, I'm never gonna get this right." I replied annoyed at my stupidity.

"Relax, you're trying too hard. Poetry isn't about trying, and thinking your brains out. It's about feeling. It's about the emotions you feel when the words roll over your tongue. Close your eyes." She whispered.

"What?"

"Just close your eyes. Everything comes a lot easier in the dark. Just try it." She urged.

I think back about the New Year Eve and about the sensations I felt in that idyllic darkness, and my eyelids close on cue.

"Now I'm gonna read a small verse, just try to keep the word groups in the back of your mind."

I rested my head against the headboard, completing my relaxation and continued listening to her soothing voice.

"I cannot look upon the rose's dye, but to thy cheek my soul doth take its flight. I cannot look on any budding flower, but my fond ear, in fancy at thy lips." She read.

"What do you think that he means."

"Um, he seems to be comparing her features with nature's feature's?" I assumed hesitantly.

"Yes and …"

"And I think that he just is reminded by her all the time. Everywhere where he looks she's there." I said, more fluently and sure of myself than a few moments ago.

"Good start. Okay, listen. What about this: Every delight with sweet remembering,
And grief unto my darling joys dost bring."

"I … I don't know." I answered.

"Okay, that's alright. I assume you know the song 'yesterday' by The Beatles?" She asked.

"Yes, but I don't understand what-"

"Just hear me out. I'll say the first sentences of the verses and you the end alright?"

"Okay." I responded, now fully trusting her.

"Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away. Now it looks as though they're here to stay …" she started.

" I believe in yesterday" I continued.

"Suddenly, I'm not half the man I used to be. There's a shadow hanging over me …"

"Yesterday, came suddenly "

"Why she had to go, I don't know. She wouldn't say. I said something wrong …"

"Now I long, for yesterday"

"Okay. Now think about all those parts you just said. What do you notice?" she questioned.

"I .. I don't know. I really don't Alex!" I let out desperately.

"Yes, you do! Just let the words gently linger in your head."

I long for yesterday. I believe in yesterday. Yesterday came suddenly. Okay so obviously yesterday was great. That's it. Yesterday was great, not is great.

"It's a contradiction." I supposed.

"How's that?"

"He longs, he believes in something that already passed. He says that it 'came suddenly', but it can't cause it already happened." I explained.

"Alright, now listen to me again: Every delight with sweet remembering,
And grief unto my darling joys dost bring.

"It's a contradiction." I said while smiling broadly

"How so?" she chuckled, sensing my excitement.

"The 'sweet remembering' is at the same time the cause of his 'grief'. His pleasure and his pain are inseparable. Thus it's paradoxical." I clarified.

"Yes that's-"

"And it's not the only thing that's paradoxical." I cut her short. " Can you repeat the part about the budding flower." I asked.

"I cannot look on any budding flower, but my fond ear, in fancy at thy lips.
And hearkening for a love-sound, doth devour its sweets in the wrong sense."

"When he sees a flower he thinks about the lady's lips. But instead of looking at the flower or smelling the flower he's 'hearkening for a love-sound'. He's listening to it, which explains 'the wrong sense'."

"Congratulations." She said while softly clapping in her hands.

"For what."

"You just analysed your first poem."

"I should call mom, so that she can take a picture of this proud moment." I chuckled.

"You know, you can open your eyes now."

"Oh, sorry. Got carried away." I said with a flushed face.

"Darkness can be enlightening sometimes." She said huskily.

"It sure can …" I replied, thinking whether or not that last statement had a deeper meaning.

"So in conclusion we can say that the poem is obviously about a paradox of memory in bringing joy, but also in blinding us to the joys around us. Because the guy … now you fill in the next part." She said.

"Uhm, the guy can't appreciate what's in front of his eyes right here and right now, like nature, cause it reminds him of something that happened it the past. Kinda like in 'yesterday'." I said while smiling slyly.

"Good. Very good. So you think that he would've been better off if he never saw her?" she asked, now not letting go of gaze at any time.

"I don't know. I guess so, obviously this John guy suffered from it."

"I'm not asking John, I'm asking you." She said dead-serious.

"I guess, he'd be better off without her. It's not like she became his significant other later on or whatever." I assumed while motioning with hands.

"Because he chickened out, he didn't go up to her like he wanted to. It's his on fault that his pleasure is connected to his pain. If he had indeed never seen her, he would've never felt that passionate intensity of 'his soul in flight'. He would've never written those beautiful words down, like millions of other people who were in that same situation. So maybe, by writing down those words he was trying to let us learn from his mistakes. Maybe .." She whispered, eyes firmly locked onto mine.

I wanted say so many words. I wanted to express my feelings, my emotions in sweetest of serenades. But nothing came out. Inwardly I was screaming, declaring my love on top of lungs, outwardly I was as mute as a fish. Another paradox.

"Um, it's getting late. I should probably get going." She said, interrupting my thoughts.

"Okay." I said timidly.

We stood up from the bed and I lead her downstairs in utter silence. I opened the front-door and just as Alex was making her way out, I called her back.

"Thank you."

"Hey, I'm always open to share my poetry-wisdom." She joked.

"No, not that. I mean thank you, for tonight. I haven't had this much since, well … ever." I stated shyly.

"Anything for a Princess I guess." She winked.

I smiled, for what seemed like umpteenth time that day. Surely my laughing muscles, will be hurting like a bitch tomorrow. Did I honestly just think that?

"See you tomorrow in English?"

"What, no confrontation in the hallway this week?" she asked in mock shock.

"I wouldn't miss for the world." I smiled.

And then, without even thinking straight or give any warning, I hugged her. And I'm talking about a friendly 'hug', I'm talking about a 'hug' hug. I could feel the tension and surprise in her body at first, but she eventually gave in and returned the gesture, though far more appropriately than mine. We got out of each others embrace, locked eyes one last time and eventually retreated ourselves. She to the obscurity of the street and me to the safety of my house. I leaned against the door, head faced to the ceiling and wondered whether tomorrow I, too, would be longing for yesterday.