Always In My Heart

Chapter 4- Feel

I walk at a hurried pace to my class, trying hard not to be late. Nikki is now holding my hand tight in hers, as she struggles to keep up with me, my steps much larger than her little ones. Walking along side her with our fingers intertwined, it feels so right, yet so wrong at the same time. Anyone would look at us and no doubt, bet we are a couple. Little do they know how complicated our relationship really is.

We barely make it over the threshold of the classroom before the loud tone of the late bell echoes through the corridors. I lead Nikki over to our usual spot in the back of the class, releasing her hand as we sit down. I set both of our bags on the table in front of us and she shoots me a slight grin. I can't help but return the gesture.

I absolutely LOVE University, especially this one in particular. It's very difficult to remain glum in the artsy, creative atmosphere that this school has. All of the classrooms are designed specifically for different types of art; painting, sculpting, drawing, and then the basic classrooms for required courses such as Art Theory, Art History, and the Integrative Seminars.

This classroom is definitely one of my favorites. It's absolutely beautiful. It is a circular-shaped room covered by a spectacular, glass dome. It's always a sight to be seen when the occasional rays of sunshine trickle down through the glass. Down below from the dome are many art tables, all facing inward. Professor Mardling's desk is placed right in the center of the room, all of the art tables surrounding his. He loves to be the center of attention in the most comical way. His personality is one that inspires you to work at being a better, happier person. From the first day I began to attend this school, I knew that he and I were going to get along. His cheeriness and my dullness even each other out quite nicely. I not only consider him to be my professor, but also a great friend.

I bounce my leg anxiously as I drink from my water bottle. I look up at the grey, cloudy sky through the glass dome. Light raindrops begin to slowly scatter across the glass, causing the few birds sitting on the dome to fly away quickly.

Nikki unzips her bag on the table and pulls out her agenda that she keeps up-to-date with her weekly schedules. She quickly licks the tip of her finger and then flips through the pages, writing things here and there. I smile watching her and take another sip of my water.

My mind begins to drift-off to this morning and the awkward conversation we had on our walk here. I swallow hard as the images of that man's face flash through my head. I know that Nikki is up to something and I really wonder what it is. But what I wonder even more is why she's keeping whatever it is from me. We talk to each other about everything. Well, almost everything; dreams are a touchy subject for me.

Most of the time, we are like two best friends at a sleepover. On the weekends, we watch movies in bed together and talk for hours. And neither of us ever grow tired of it. It has become, more or less, a routine that we have grown accustomed to, and I just can't get enough of it.

My whole childhood I was terrified to share my feelings with anyone. But when I met Nikki, that all changed so suddenly. From the very beginning of our friendship, I felt that I could tell her anything and everything. So many nights we stayed up talking until dawn, giving the other a shoulder to cry on. I was extremely weary of this change at first, but now I understand the situation fully.

I used to question why I couldn't have met my best friend sooner in life, like when I was a child. But I am completely sold that it was fate that I met her when I did. It was when I needed someone most.

When I turned eighteen, and decided to be open about my gender preference, I needed all of the support I could get. And who was there for me the whole time? Nikki.

When I told Mark that I was gay and he wouldn't speak to me, who was there for me? Nikki.

And who's there to shake me out of my terrible nightmares every night?