That night, I dreamt of music. I dreamt of a beautiful meadow on a beautiful summer day. The summer breeze rustled the tall grass and there was a piano in the middle and someone was playing that piano. I walked towards him, trying to keep my distance. I knew that if I got too close, he will stop playing. But I wanted to know him. I wanted to know who taught him how to play the piano. I wanted to know what he thought about when he played. I wanted to know his inspirations, aspirations, dreams; everything he could tell me, I wanted to know. And when he didn't stop playing when I was standing right behind me, I sat down on the bench beside him. His fingers faltered on the keys.

"No, don't stop," I said. In the bring light, his hazel eyes seemed to burn a brilliant golden color. He continued to play and I closed my eyes and leaned my head on his shoulder.

"Why won't you tell me your name?" I asked in a soft voice.

"Because you don't want to know it," he replied, his voice barely a whisper. I opened my eyes and looked up at him, only to find him looking down at me.

"Why would you say that?" I asked, frowning at him.

"Your guy cleanse," he said. I stared at him in wonder. I was wondering how he knew that until I remembered that we were in my subconscious. Obviously he knows about my guy cleanse.

"But that doesn't mean I can't have friends. Wyatt and I are friends," I said. At least I thought we were friends. He stopped playing and turned so that our bodies were facing each other and pressed together. He grabbed my chin and leaned forward until his lips were barely inches from mine. My heart beat sped up.

"So you want to be just friends, huh?"

I nodded, unable to form words in my head.

"Well, that would have worked if you hadn't called me a miserable person," he said and leaned forward to place his lips on mine.

I jerked awake and realized that I was in my room and that I wasn't alone. I sat up and noticed that in the corner stood a guy in a leather jacket. He turned around and I found myself looking into Neal's blue eyes. I opened my mouth to ask him what the hell he was doing in my room, when he walked forward and leaned over me.

"Hey, sexy," he whispered with a smirk, his blue eyes glowing in the darkness of my room.

My eyes flew open and I sat up in bed, breathing hard. I quickly leaned across the bed to turn on the lamp and looked around my room in horror. It was completely empty. I placed a hand over my heart to calm it down. It's okay. Neal's not really in room. It was just a dream. I just had a dream within a dream but it was okay. I was totally fine. I threw away the blanket and got out of bed. I needed water.

I made my way out of my room and to the kitchen. The lights were off but the moonlight shined in through the glass wall, guiding my way to the fridge. I opened it and pulled out a bottle of water and then closed the door and yelled out in surprise when I saw my brother standing there. He must have been hiding behind the door.

"What?" Jake asked. Instead of replying, I groaned and went back to my room. The light from the lamp illuminated the room but I still didn't feel safe enough to go back to sleep. I scanned the room and then went to sit at my desk. I turned on the desk lamp and opened up my sketchbook. Grabbing a pencil, I started sketching my Musical Prodigy.

"If somebody told me there'd be nobody else but you and I. The night's gettin' darker with you, you and I. My heart's getting' louder with you, you and I. My mind's gettin' dirty with you, you and I."

I startled awake to the sound Heather singing along to the radio, again. I groaned as I sat up in my chair. My back and neck were stiff from falling asleep sitting at my desk. I rolled around my neck, trying to loosen it up. I stood and did some twists to stretch my back. If I had a penny for every time I had fallen asleep at my desk, I would be able to buy an island. I grabbed my empty bottle of water and walked out of my room to go to the kitchen.

"Good morning, honey," Dad said. He was standing behind the stove, making pancakes and Heather was helping him while she sang along to the radio.

"I think I am having a worst day than yesterday, if that's even possible," I said. I sat down on the bar stool and put my head on the counter. The counter was stainless steel and the cold felt good against my hot skin.

"Well, I'm sure having your favorite pancakes for breakfast will make you feel better," Dad said. I looked up and smiled at him. I highly doubted anything will make me feel better, but it was a start and I was hungry.

"Okay, but I have to get dressed first," I said. Before I left the kitchen, I turned off the radio and glared at Heather when she pouted. I had to tell her to stop listening to the radio in the morning. Unlike her, I wasn't a morning person.

I walked back to my room and was about to close the door when I saw that Heather was behind me. She entered my room and sat down on the bed. I closed the door behind her.

"What's up, grumpy pants?" Heather asked.

"Grumpy pants? What are you, five?" I asked. Heather narrowed her blue eyes at me and I rolled mine.

"I just had this strange dream, well, two strange dreams technically," I said. I turned my chair around and sat down, leaning forward towards Heather.

"About?" Heather asked. She crossed her legs and leaned forward as well. I sighed and shook my head.

"No, I don't wanna talk about. I have to get dressed and so do you," I said, pointing towards her shorts and t-shirt. I got up and walked into the washroom before she could stop me. It's not like anything happened in the dream but the memory of it was still too fresh for me to talk about it.

I stood in front of the sink, staring into my own green eyes. What the hell was going on inside my brain? I shuddered to think what the dream could have meant. Did it mean that I should get over my guy cleanse or I was just a really crazy person? It's not like I had anything against guys in particular. I just wanted something special and that wasn't wrong. It just seemed like wishful thinking.

After spending a good forty five minutes in the washroom, I turned off the water, stepped out of the shower and grabbed my towel. After I dried myself, I wrapped the towel around my body and walked out into my closet. I had no idea what I was going to wear, but lucky for me, Heather had already laid out my clothes because I was five. It was a pair of blue skinny jeans and a cream frilly top. I moved it aside and grabbed a pair of black jeans, black tank top and a green and black checkered shirt.

Heather glared at me when I walked into the kitchen.

"What?" I asked.

"I put out those clothes for you," Heather said. I took a seat on the bar stool and Dad put a plate of pancakes in front of me. I grabbed the syrup and poured it over the pancakes. Then I grabbed a fork and dug in. Dad was the best cook and an even better doctor.

"And I wore them, when I was five," I said, after I swallowed.

"I just wanted you to wear something pretty," Heather said, blinking her pretty blue eyes at me.

"That is weird. It's exactly what mom said the last time she laid out clothes for me, when I was five," I said. Heather rolled her eyes.

"Alright, I get it. You're old enough to pick out your clothes," Heather said.

"Thank you," I said.

"So, I got home late last night and we didn't get a chance to talk about your day," Dad said. I shrugged and Heather started describing her day with detail. I tuned her out and focused on my breakfast. I didn't want to know how much better her day was than mine. People liked her and I was the pariah. Oh, good god, I was jealous of my baby sister.

"How about you, honey? How was your day?" Dad asked, bringing me out of my thoughts.

"It was fine. You know, I talked to a few people and few people talked to me," I said. Dad looked at me, his blue eyes concerned and not quite satisfied with my answer. But the awesome dad that he is, he didn't pursue it further. I gave him a smile. Dad poured me a glass of juice and I picked it up, drinking it down in one gulp.

"Alright, we gotta go. Time for school," I said in a fake cheery voice.

"Now, honey it's the second day. Before you know it, you'll be a graduate," Dad said. I fake laughed at his joke. Dad and Heather smiled at me.

"If this year is total crap, I will be bringing boys to your house," I said over my shoulder. That'll teach him a lesson. He must have been the happiest father on the planet when I announced I was going to stay away from boys. It was like every father's dream come true. I walked into my room and picked up my bag. Walking over to my desk, I was about to pick up my sketchbook but stopped when I saw my sketch from last night. Heat rose up in my cheeks and I quickly shut the book and slipped it into my bag.

"Why are you blushing? How are you blushing?"

I whirled around to see Heather standing in the doorway.

"What? I'm not blushing," I said.

"Oh, so you accidentally walked into rouge?" Heather asked. I turned away from her and pulled my hair over my shoulder as I felt a blush rise up to my cheeks again. Okay. Something was very wrong with me. Why was I blushing?

"Okay, well let's go to school," I said. I walked out of my room and kissed Dad on the cheek before I left the house. I waited in the car for Heather; my heart beating loudly in my chest. Something was very, very wrong. I felt like my world was coming to an end. I turned on the radio to try and relax myself but the station that came on was a classical station and it just reminded me of my dream. I guess what was making me blush was the idea that I had dreamt about boys. That's never really happened before.

All I wanted to do was put in my earphones and paint. I wanted to lose myself in the smell of paint and the pretty colors. Fall was almost upon us and I wanted to paint the pretty colors. The passenger door open and Heather got in the car.

"Okay, let's go," she said. I started the car and pulled out of the driveway.

"Oh, is it okay if I don't have lunch with you today?" Heather asked. I threw her glance.

"Honey, I thought we just went over it. I am not five. I can handle being alone and besides, I want to paint and you hate the smell of paint," I said. Heather smiled and then frowned. She changed the radio station and found the one she was listening to earlier. She started singing along to the song and I turned to glare at her. I was tired of the singing.

"Oh, can you use a body spray after you paint, just so the inside of the car doesn't smell like turpentine," Heather said. I wondered if I should be offended that she had just suggested I was going to stink.

"Yeah sure, I'll just choose one from my collection of body sprays that I carry around," I said. Heather sighed. She opened her bag and pulled out a bottle of spray.

"Cool. You gotta a rabbit in there?" I asked, trying to get a peek inside her bag. Heather smirked and turned to look at me.

"I'm glad to see that you're feeling better," she said. I shrugged. I wasn't really but the sarcasm helped. It helped me not focus on the other things that I was feeling; which were just icky. My theory was that if you can't make sense of a feeling, ignore it and focus on something else until it went away.

"So who did you dream about?" Heather asked.

"Heather, no," I said. She pouted and turned around to face the front. I didn't care if she pouted so much that she looked like she belonged in the duck family, I was not going to tell her what I dreamed about. The last thing I wanted was my sister analyzing my dreams. I just wanted to survive through the first half of the day because after lunch, school got considerably brighter.

As soon as the bell rang for lunch, I grabbed my sandwich and iPod and made my way to the art room. It was empty like it was yesterday and like yesterday I could hear the drama students in the other room. Before I went into the room though, I peeked into the music room and saw that it was empty. I was relieved and at the same time, disappointed. I shook it off and went into the art room.

Like the music room, the art room had a wall made of glass and that's where I set up my painting supplies while I ate. When everything was set, I put in my earphones and started to plaint. See, I had the same disease Heather had with the singing along to music. But I only did it when I was painting because I am lost to this world and in a world where singing out loud is allowed and not annoying at all.

So I was singing along to Adele when I noticed that I was running out of yellow paint. I put down my palette and paint brush and turned around.

"Bah!" I yelled in shock and stepped back and the easel tumbled like it was about to fall down. There, sitting on one of the stools, was Mr. Prodigy himself. He smirked, knowing he had startled me and I rolled my eyes and felt the blush rising up to my face when I remembered the last time I had seen him was in my dream.

"Why did you stop? That was beautiful," he said to me with a smile. I remembered that was the same thing I had said to him yesterday. But I still blushed at the compliment.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" I asked. His smile widened.

"Right, I am Ethan Reynolds. I was across the hall in the music room when I heard you singing Adele and I just came in here to see who was singing," he said. Yes! I finally knew his name and he made a very good Ethan. Though I had no idea what Ethan's were supposed to be like.

"Well, you already know my name," I said.

"That wasn't what I said. If you recall correctly, I asked you to leave," Ethan said. I stared into his hazel eyes. They were warm today, unlike yesterday when he seemed really angry.

"It's okay; you can stay if you want. It doesn't bother me," I said. Ethan stood up from the stool and walked towards me. Like yesterday, he was wearing a shirt but this one was dark green, instead of blue.

"Well, that sucks. Now I don't get to tell you that you're a miserable person," he said. I laughed and walked over to sink. Opening up the cabinet over it, I pulled out the bottle of yellow paint and walked back to my painting.

"You don't have to tell me I'm miserable. I already know that," I said. I opened the bottle of paint and put some on my palette. I turned to face my easel and started painting again and cleared my throat.

"And I am sorry for calling you a miserable person."

"Okay," Ethan said. I stopped painting and turned around to look at him. That sounded like he didn't believe me.

"I am," I said. Ethan's hazel eyes sparkled in the sunlight. He walked over to me, standing so close that I could smell him. He smelled like fresh laundry and summer. My heart beat sped up at his closeness.

"I know. I believe you," he said. I looked up at him from under my lashes.

"You couldn't tell me that from where you were standing before?" I asked, pushing him away. That was a bad idea because I had to touch him and he seemed incredibly well built under that shirt. Ethan's brows furrowed.

"You are so weird," Ethan whispered.

"Yeah, well," I said and poked him with the end of my paint brush. I wanted him to get away from me. I didn't have a problem with talking, but he was standing way too close for comfort. It didn't really help matters any that he was so pretty and I wanted to reach up and touch him.

Until yesterday, all I wanted was to get away from guys and today, everything has changed. I still want to stay away from them, but my resolve seems to be faltering and all because of that stupid dream. It was the kiss. It was the kiss that had me thinking all these crazy things. I didn't want Ethan but something in me wanted him close. Not close enough so that we were touching but close, which was just plain stupid and could only end in disaster.

"Okay, well then I am just going to be across the hall," Ethan said.

"And I'll just be here," I said. Ethan nodded once and left the room. I sighed and turned around to face my easel. I heard the sound of music flowing into the room and I knew that Ethan was playing. Though I wanted to see his skilled fingers fly across the piano keys, I stayed glued to my spot.

Ethan and I, we were just strangers who had happened to cross paths. I saw him playing and he saw me painting and singing. We were even now. There was nothing more between us and I was happy for that. I didn't like feeling my emotions getting out of control, mostly because they had the tendency to wreak havoc. And also because I had no idea what the hell I was feeling or was supposed to be feeling. Heather was much better at these things. She always told me to follow my instincts, that your instincts were never wrong. So I was just going to follow my instincts.

I put down my paint palette, wiped my hands on a cloth and walked out of the room to stand in the doorway of the music room and watch Ethan play.

AN: And heeeerrreeee's the next chapter. Let me know what you think. XOXO