Heart Beat

chapter 9:Coaching center!!!

I am watching the ceiling of my room, which is painted white, its morning 6:30 a.m.

 I already wake up and thinking deeply everything.


John's eyes were full of emotions.

 Uncle Bernard son is nobody but John. John's mum died after giving him birth.


Now I realize this fact.

 I am no angrier on anything. Instead I am full of sympathy for john.


I never have imagined the emotions behind his eyes.


This feeling is hurting my heart. I can never imagine my life without my mom and he had never seen his mum.


I get ready and planted to kisses on my mom's cheeks, after a tight hug. She has amused by my action.

She is so much to me, dad has left all the burdens on her, and she smilingly manages everything.

I am so playful but she never complains about me. I love her so much.


I promised myself to be a good girl not only by my studies but also by my behavior.


I get into the bus John was with his friends, I walk to the any-vacant-seat available there.

 I look at John, his eyes suddenly meet with mine and I give him semi-semi-sympathetic smile.


 At first, he was a little confused by my behavior, and then gave an amused smile, curving his perfect set of cheery lips.

 I was a little paused to see it.


I sit beside a girl, who was junior to me.


We had a mild gossip and she really is a good listener. In between, she timidly asks about John by stating him as the-new-boy. I know the effect that girls have after seeing him.


School went as well but today I had smiled to each one, who admires me, #goodmanners.

I also had smiled two-three times to John, when ever our eyes meet.


After school I get into the bus and sit in my seat.


After five minutes, John comes and smiles when he sees me gawking at him.


He climbs the aisle and sits beside me.


I love his cologne.


"Hey kiddy, I wonder how you changed so much."


Again kid, I hate him, for referring me as a kid.


"John, don't call me kiddy, I am not a kid." I pouted, may be like a kid but I am polite and low-voiced.

He smirks at my reaction.

“You had such a kid’s-shocking face, when you saw me at the door.” He teases me, making me remember the awful embarrassing banquet.

“Why didn’t you tell me you are Uncle Bernard’s son???” now I yelled out of embarrassment, but still low-voiced.


“If I would tell you, I may had missed your shocking plus humiliating face, like a kid.”

 He smirks before knocking and rubbing my nose with his index finger, as if I am really a kid.

I look away through the bus window, try not to react childishly but am burning in fire.


“Hey, be ready at five: fifteen, I shall come to pick you off.” He notified me.


‘Oh the coaching class is from five: thirty to seven.’ I totally have forgotten it; mom had informed me about it in the morning.

I nodded my head yes, in reply.

The rest ten minutes has gone as I watched the streets, trees and houses through the window and John talked to his friends behind him.

My stoppage arrives; I wave my hand bye-bye, to John perhaps, am not I mad at him???

He didn’t say bye to me but wink at me. I feel kind of nervous that time, my face gets a little numbed.

I unlocked the door and get into my room, get refreshed and brought some snacks for me.

After thirty minutes… I packed my bag and dressed into a black Demin jean with a checked shirt.

My hair is tied into a high pony tail as always. Sometimes I think my dressing style is kind of nerd-style, but stylish dresses also don’t suit to me… I kindda think that…


I am waiting for John to arrive, perhaps I get ready a little earlier… ready to attempt my coaching class…

The door bell chimes.

I rush to open the door and…

John is also wearing a pair black jean and grey plus black stripe and total black to the north of his chest-line t-shirt.

Unlike me he had a good sense of style and looks utterly handsome.

His looks are oozing smartness.

I grin stupidly at him.

“Huh you look a book-worm, kiddy.”

Yeah, I know that

“And you look like …’ a handsome, cool hero who just comes out the Netflix

“Like!!”  He snapped my train of thoughts.

“Like a bad-boy, who used to look good but bad?”

“Hey, does that mean I am handsome.”

“NO, it means you are a bad boy.”

“And how am I bad.”

“Let’s go, I don’t want to be late on my first day.” I cut off the stupid conversation.

“You didn’t answer me…”

It seems that he wants to talk more.

“You are bad because … I think you are... let’s go.”


We go to coaching centre in his car. Uncle Bernard had assigned a driver for him, though he knows driving.


Edited: 17.12.2020

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