Page 10 of Composed
“Hey,” she says. “I’m Hendrix.”
My curiosity piques. “Like Jimi?”
Hendrix raises a brow. “The one and only. My dad’s a super fan. He thinks he’s the greatest guitarist of all time.”
“Do you agree?” I lean forward, ring adorned fingers sliding across the table.
“He's not bad.” She hums, lips twitching. “But I’m more of a Synyster Gates fan myself.”
Holy Shit! She is perfect.
I don't know many people who would name a metal guitarist as the greatest of all time. Most just throw out the most well-known names. “You’re into rock music, then?”
“Yeah.”
“Favourite bands?” I ask her.
“My Chemical Romance, Fall Out Boy, Black Veil Brides, A Day to Remember, Avenged Sevenfold,” she says.
Saint bumps my knee with his as he takes his seat again.
I swat him away.
I get it—we’re the only ‘alternative’ kids in our year, so making friends hasn’t come easy. Most people in our year are more interested in movies and shopping than watching Kerrang!—but I need him to rein in his excitement before he scares her off on her first day.
“Did you see My Chem are playing in the city next month?” I ask.
She smiles. “Yeah, I’ve got a ticket.”
“Are you going with friends?”
“Nope.” She shakes her head, twisting a thick, sparkling silver ring around her middle finger. “We just moved here from London a couple weeks ago. Haven’t really met anyone yet.”
“We'll be your friends.” Saint says. “And we're going to gig, if you want to come with us. Our friend Carter is seventeen, so if your 'rents want you to go with an adult you can just age him up a bit.”
Hendrix huffs a laugh. “My parents won’t care.”
Saint tilts his head, eyes considering as he glances over her. Then he nods, as if answering a question he didn't speak aloud. “Then you should come with us if you want.”
“You definitely should." I say. “Concerts are always more fun with friends.”
“I’ll think about it.” She cocks her head. “Might need to know your name before I agree to a budding friendship, though.”
“Oh, yeah, that might help. I’m Coles.” I clear my throat. “Hayes.” Fire licks at my cheeks. “Cole Hayes. Hi.”
She bites her lip, eyes shimmering with amusement.
“Hi, Cole Hayes. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Hendrix Moore.” She holds a hand out to me. “But my friends call me Hendrix.”
What if I don’t want to be just your friend, Hendrix Moore?
I clasp her smaller palm in mine. A zing shoots up my arm as the cold rings wrapped around her fingers clink with mine, the mixed metal biting into my warm skin.
The bell rings and Prescott ushers us out of his classroom with the threat of detention if it isn’t empty in the next sixty seconds.
“Do either of you know where Mrs Porter's French classroom is?” Hendrix asks, tossing her bag over one shoulder as she stands. “That’s my first lesson and I really don’t want to get lost again this morning.”
Saint drapes an arm over her shoulders.
