year

ni

s simply delusion. To my surprise, the room is not full at all. There are at most ten people inside already and the instructor sits

inctly but there is no doubt that every single person sitting in this room was born into money. It is evident in the precise tailoring of

that step, I should slink back into the shadows, back into the poor, unimpressive life where I belong. The man playing the flute does not stop, but his eyes do find me in the doorway and I cannot help but search them for any judgement. Any

nce in person last year is an award winning musical artist. He is sensational with a piano, a guitar, a violin and many other instruments. I estimate that a session with hi

ate last year and I used all of my savings to enter into it. My guitar skills floored him, earning me first place and I had two options, a mo

e there is no censure in his eyes either. Putting on a coat of false bravado, I sashay towards hi

ay. “I am Ve

come to my class, pleas

igned. I might not technically belong with these people, but I did not pay the cabbie to drop me here to make friends. I am here to learn from th

to twenty exactly. On closer look, I see that the seats have names on them and mine is already at the back. I plop myself into it and place my guitar on the holder beside m

my shoulder but I don’t fully notice. I am staring because a man the likes of which I have only ever seen

ne jaw and the sea green eyes drilling holes into me, the broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his shirt delicately and the tapered body outlined by his shirt and his dark blue jea

at first sight but now I’m a firm believer in the latter. There i

ribbling honey, it warms you all over and does no

lise that this walking fant

have kicked myself. He talks,

res to m

red in goose fl

opposite side of the room are working overtime but I was so over

nd I realise that I am still staring. My cheeks burn becaus

you spoke earlier.”

e cast on me. So what if he is drop-dead gorgeous, so gorgeous that he should be on display i

streams from the jacket and seems to be all over me now. I want to i

on’t you need protection fro

make my own he

ffen, surrounded by his scent again and hating that I love it. Do all rich people smell so intoxicating or is it

I tell him

My vision tunnels until he is everything I can see and my body tightens. His face is getting closer and so are his lips and in that moment, I find that t

and my eyes narrow at him. If he thinks he can swap a jacket for a

d and then his

take a second to regroup. He wanted my name, not