Dislcaimer: Twilight I own not.

A/N: So I've got hits. Gasp! I've got hits! It's wicked to know people are actually reading my C worthy writing. But what I really want are, and you know it, REVIEWS! I guess I have to take baby steps or whatever. All I know is that this is fun, and I'm writing story lines in my head at work.. because really.. working at cash doesn't really give me much to do. This one's a little shorter than my other ones, I worked all day and I'm freaking tired.

--

"Swan. Bella Swan," I said as I turned to thank him. When I looked to his face now, it was darker, his eyes pulled together in frustration and anger. He let the wooden door slam shut, and the last thing I remembered seeing was the blackness of his eyes.

--

The icy basement was set up like a conference room. Rows upon rows of those uncomfortable plastic chairs teasing to numb you from the waste down. The seats were filling up fast so I quickly grabbed the last seat in the last row next to a tiny girl with bushy hair and nervous eyes. I started to feel sorry for her but then I realized I probably looked the exact same.

A short, balding man with a bad comb over walked up to a podium at the front of the room, adjusted his thick rimmed glasses, and started welcoming everyone. He probably talked about what a bunch of talented wonderful futures we all had with the university, but I wasn't listening. I only saw those eyes. Those black eyes piercing through me, so full of hate. Even practicing, which usually captivates my entire mind, didn't erase them. They lingered like the feel if his hands on mine did. I looked down, ringing them together like I was washing my hands, trying to get the tingling out of them. I lifted my head carefully, looking around the orientation, readying my head to turn away if I saw him. I didn't. I shimmied in my seat, sitting up higher to get a better look around. No messy bronze hair, no bottomless eyes. I sighed, not sure if I was relieved or not.

Still ignoring the speaker, I turned my attention to the beauty that was my fellow classmates. I moaned internally, wishing I looked more like Renee. Her tall, slender curves mocked my short, flat stature. My brown hair dull with split ends. Lanky and plain - that's Bella Swan for you. I inherited my plainness from my father, Charlie, actually I inherited pretty much everything from him. I pulled at the stray threads of the end of my t-shirt annoyingly, letting my hair fall over the right side of my pale skinned face. Out of the corner of my eye I saw them. They're perfection made me want to vomit. The clothing they were wearing screamed designer, from the boys' suede suit jackets to the cream coloured knee-high boots of the girls. These were the people Mom wanted for me, these were the people I would try my best to ignore for the next 8 months.

I watched as a girl from the group, with long flowing blonde hair stood and approached the podium. Her graceful ballerina-worthy stride made me instantly hate her, and the fact that she was easily the most beautiful girl in the room added to that emotion.

"Thank you Dr. Prutle." Her musical voice rang over the polite applause. "You're words always inspire." I rolled my eyes as she turned to face the group of students.

"As previously stated by one of my favourite professors, I am Rosalie Hale, student president of your musical society and of the Student Union." She paused for effect with a smirk, pleased with the crowds attention. God, I hate her even more. "I will do my best this year to create a unity with eachother," she continued. "To break down those walls, to show the rest of the university that we are more than musicians! We are the future!" Bile rose in my throat while students jumped out of their seats and roared to the glowing, proud president.

I got up to leave not being able to take any more, and as I was merely feet away from the exit, Rosalie's voice sang over the dulling cheer. "I am proud to have the opportunity to present our faculty and some of our rising stars. They have prepared something wonderful for our meeting here today." Her voice barely hung on to her excitement.

Then it started.

Strings, a harp, even a guitar, sang as if it's only that moment that matters. I turned around and it hit me full on. Crescendos, rising scales, twinkling notes brought back the feeling of clinging to the hope I've held onto for months. I closed my eyes. Flowing notes like water, muted sound, rise and fall of tempo created silence in the music; majestically feeling calm and powerful, floating higher and higher, through the ceiling into the sky. I leaned onto the back wall, feeling my knees buckle under my weight. Those high notes held for hours while a single violin played a sober tune that my eyes responded to with wetness. Then there's the melody, voices blended sounding like one person with a million voices, coming at me as if from behind a hill; a sunrise. Pure ecstasy... and for a second the world is still. There was no one in that room except me and the music, and when I opened my eyes - I saw him. I could see those fingers and even from the back of the room I could see their steady flow pouring onto the keys of the piano. The result was the most beautiful sound to have ever reached my ears, and to think.. I had been touching them only hours ago.

I caught myself dreaming, imagining us together. With the music, anything seemed possible, but then it stopped suddenly and I remembered his glare. Dammit, why am I such an idiot? Why does he hate me so much? What could I have possibly done to have him hate me? I should just turn around and run, that was my answer to everything. Keep running so the bad things couldn't catch up and kick and punch and point and...

The conductor turned around and I gasped. A few people close to where I stood turned and faced me, but for the first time, I didn't give a damn. Dr. Brandon Strongheld stood with his crinkly eyes and blinding white teeth, beaming at the grand applause received from the students. He was here. I was here. This was the reason why I'd come here. He was the artist of that beautiful piece and maybe, just maybe, I'd be able to paint music like that one day.