Since I started my break, I've discovered how amazing living life at a normal pace feels. I used to always have somewhere to be, or something to do. It's been nearly three weeks and it's probably the most relaxed I've ever been. Now, I can take my sweet, sweet time.

Don't get me wrong, I still have to practice day and night. But at the very least, I can work at a slower pace. Mom probably wouldn't be too enthused if she knew. Luckily, she doesn't.

I haven't been ignoring her emails and texts per se, I've just been... forgetting to reply.

I've started this new thing. After I shower, I'll usually come back into my room and sit on my bed, still in my towel. I like to just lay there half naked and zone out, doing absolutely nothing productive. It's therapeutic somehow.

As I'm about to finally get dressed, my phone starts ringing.

"Hi Cole."

"Hey Mel, I was uh...uh," he stammers a bit. It's a little odd, hearing him being the uncertain, strung out one for once. "I was uh...wondering if you wanted to hang out."

I feel a tiny flutter in my chest. "Oh, what did you have in mind?"

"Do you want to grab lunch? There's this small café just off campus, it's a nice place."

"Sounds good."

I end up having to meet Cole there even though he offered to pick me up. Mr. Carter insisted that he's contractually obligated to escort me, which includes being cautious when it comes to other people's cars. Part of me believes it's just him still being skeptical about Cole.

The strong scent of coffee beans envelops me as soon as I step in. It's a small, quaint place. Polished wooden floors, soft furniture, brick walls, and lots of potted plants. Quiet jazz music is playing in the background, muffled by the noises of people typing on keyboards and the occasional hissing of milk being steamed.

"Mel!" Cole calls from the back.

Mr. Carter takes a seat a couple tables away, within view of the front door. I appreciate that he always tries to be as unobtrusive as possible when we're out in public. I really don't want any unnecessary attention to be drawn towards me. It's very hard to blend in when you're being followed by a muscular 6'7" man who's constantly analyzing his surroundings and carrying a concealed weapon.

"Hey," I greet him and take off my coat. It's quickly becoming too warm, especially because Cole chose a table right next to the large stone fireplace.

Cole's smiling, but I can still clearly see the concern and worry in his eyes. "How have you been?"

"I'm alright." I don't have much more to say about it. I've always prided myself on being able to bounce back quickly without help. Why would I want to share my private, intimate thoughts when everything works out fine on my own? They're private for a reason.

He doesn't look completely convinced but fortunately decides to drop it. "Sorry for calling, I know it's a little weird. I pretty much never call anyone. I just have a meeting later and didn't really have time to wait for you to see my text."

I'm not a huge fan of talking on the phone either. If it can be handled over an email or text, don't call me.

"What's it for?"

"Oh just a board meeting with my fraternity," he explains. "I'm Kappa Sigma's vice president."

Though my knowledge of Greek life is limited to what I've seen in movies and the stories Alyssa has told me, Cole definitely fits my schema of a frat boy. Never in a million years did I think I'd end up becoming friends with one. Although, after getting to know Cole, my expectation of what they're like may have been wrong.

A friendly server places two coffees and two plates onto the wooden table. One has a croissant, the other has a cinnamon bun. He grins and gestures towards the plates. "Sorry, I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I went with the café's specialties."

"That's sweet, thanks." I point towards the croissant and he passes me the plate. It's flaky, buttery, and warm. Crumbs sprinkle onto my lap and I quickly brush them away.

Cole takes a fork and knife and cuts a bite-sized piece from his cinnamon bun. My eyes widen and I audibly gasp. He looks up at me and furrows his brows. "Uh, yeah?"

"That's how you eat those?" I ask, in only half fake shock.

"...Yes?"

"That's wrong!" I exclaim. "You have to eat it in the spiral! You know, like, unravel it."

He chortles. "What? How can there be a wrong way to eat something." As if to prove his point, he cuts another piece from the side and takes a bite.

"There are plenty," I scoff. "Pouring milk before the cereal, putting pineapple on pizza, cooking steaks well done, the list goes on."

"You're funny Mel." He gives me an amused grin and cuts another piece from the bun.

I just roll my eyes and take another bite of my croissant. "By the way, I heard that Michael got mad at you for not having an article," I say softly. "Sorry about that."

"It's alright, don't worry about it." He shakes his head. He pauses for a moment and raises his eyebrows. "Oh, so that means you're Alyssa's cousin."

"That's me."

He laughs. "Never would've guessed. That girl is wild. President of Alpha Delta Pi. Honestly, I think she's way out of Michael's league."

I'm very curious about meeting Michael, but I know I shouldn't. He's the one who created this bridge between my personal and professional life that Cole is beginning to cross. Who knows what else he might do.

Although, I've thought about it some more lately, and...maybe it's time to stop. It's been over seven years now. Yesterday's incident made me realize that it might finally be time for a change. I can't keep running forever... right?

I bite my lip nervously and stare at the half eaten croissant. "I was thinking," I mumble.

"Yeah?"

I look up at him and pause for a moment. The morning sunlight shining through the window sends streaks of gold through his brown hair. His eyes are like bright and shiny sapphires, gazing at me expectantly. I almost forget what I was about to say.

"I was wondering if you'd still..." I rest my hands around my mug, letting the heat warm up my cold and clammy hands, "like that interview."

His eyes widen. "Oh really Mel? I'd love that!"

"It's just for this newspaper right? And um... nothing too personal?" I absentmindedly run my finger along the wooden grain of the table.

"Yeah, you can tell me if there's anything you don't want to answer." He takes a notebook out of his bag. "Why the change of heart anyways?"

"Well it's just for a small university's newspaper, and I feel like I owe it to you after everything you've gone through just to talk to me." I debate whether or not to continue, already feeling heat rushing to my cheeks. "Plus... it's been really nice getting to know you, Cole. I trust you."

I can probably count on one hand the number of people I really trust. It was a strange, almost scary realization yesterday - I felt comforted by Cole. It was sweet, what he did for me, but vulnerability is terrifying. Why did I do that?

"Thanks Mel, that means a lot." He smiles warmly. After a moment of hesitation, he reaches across the table to give my hand a comforting pat. "So I'm just going to ask a couple questions." He begins recording audio with his phone.

"For readers unfamiliar with who you are, please introduce yourself."

I take in a deep breath and try to calm my rapidly beating heart. "I'm Melody Aria. I'm a pianist."

Cole chuckles. "That's only part of the story though, right?" He flips through his notebook. "You were first discovered as a child prodigy when you were four. You went to Julliard when you were fifteen, performed all over the world, composed dozens of pieces, and won a gramophone award when you were seventeen."

"...Yup."

"Do you have a favourite song?"

"That's like asking a parent to pick their favourite child," I laugh. I purse my lips and mentally search through the catalogue of songs I've played throughout my life. "One of my favourites is probably Mozart's Piano Sonata Number sixteen. It holds a special place in my heart."

Being mom and dad's first and subsequently only child, they were both super paranoid and nervous about doing things perfectly. They had heard that classical music was good for babies, so they would constantly play music while mom was pregnant. Apparently, mom would always feel me kicking when they played that song.

"So what brings you to the University of Markham? And Toronto?"

"Well I finished my tour around three weeks ago. I decided to stay here for a short break to relax. U of M happened to be close to my apartment, and they were kind enough to let me use their pianos to continue practicing."

The thought that's been bothering me from the back of my mind suddenly pops back into my consciousness. Time feels like it's rapidly slipping by and there's nothing I can do about it. It's been nearly three weeks now, I promised mom I would head back after a month. What's going to happen when I leave? Cole loses his piano teacher I suppose, but is that it? Things just go back to normal?

I don't want that. I want this to be my new normal.

It's impossible for that to happen though, no matter how badly I want it to. This isn't my real life. My real life is full of stress and loneliness - Cole doesn't belong there. And who knows if that's what he even wants anyways. All he wanted was to do was learn to play. I wish I could ask him, but what am I supposed to say without sounding obsessed and clingy?

I wish I knew how to express my feelings to him in a more eloquent way, but this is just who I am. It's who I've always been and always will be.

"So what's next? Another tour? Composing?"

My attention quickly snaps back to Cole. "I'm in the process of signing with a record company to record some original pieces. I'll probably begin recording once I fly back home." I think for a moment, taking a small sip of the hot, slightly bitter coffee. "I've also considered writing a, um, songbook. I...want to teach people to play... I guess I just haven't had time to."

Cole gives me a bright smile. "Oh wow that's amazing Mel! Figures, you're a great teacher." His eyes widen and his cheeks turn a bit pink when his eyes dart to his phone and he realizes he's still recording. "Whoops," he mumbles before quickly getting back on track. "I'm sure many people are wondering, why haven't we seen you in so long?"

I hesitate, finally hearing the question I've been dreading. "Well, I wanted people to focus on my music, not me," I pause for a moment to take a deep breath. "Keeping myself out of the spotlight meant that my music was the only thing about me to know, and that's what I've preferred."

It's not the full truth, but it's as close to the truth as I'm willing to get.

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Does anyone else do the towel thing?!

Thanks for reading! :)