I was going to have to start practicing late at night if I had any hope to impress the professors at the end-of-the-year recital. My scholarship depended on my ability to play.
My ability to make the professors believe I was worth the free ride they’d given me at this school.
Shaking thoughts of the dark stranger away from my head, I decided to stay in the same practice room he’d left. After all, I was already there and it wasn’t like he was coming back.
Maybe some of his talent would rub off on me.
I didn’t play like that.
I wasn’t raw.
I was practiced.
To be out of control the way he was? To let the music decide what it was going to do and when — I didn’t have that. I was lacking in the passion department.
My professors all said my music was perfect — but cold.
If I was cold — he was on fire.
Two hours. I had two hours to practice before I had to meet up with my class partner and go over plans for our project.
I set my notes and music on the piano and focused on the keys. My fingers tingled as I touched the ivory — they tingled when I thought of his hands.
For once in my life I wanted to know what it felt like to be free.
But something told me — the guy who had just left this room was anything but — he was trapped, and by the conviction in the song he sang — it was all his own doing.
Chapter Nine
Music is life — maybe that’s why I’d abandoned it for so long. I didn’t feel like I deserved life — not anymore. —Gabe H.
Gabe
I leaned against the wall as the music from the practice room filtered faintly into the hallway.
She was perfect.
Her timing.
The way the notes flowed together.
But I felt nothing.
The moment had finally come, the moment when music no longer made me feel. I wanted to hate her for barging in on me, for correcting me, for being so annoying and pretty at the same time.
For being one of those girls who actually fascinated me.
She’d tasted good. Kissing her had been a giant-assed mistake, because for some reason, I knew her lips were going to haunt me, the way her mouth felt against mine.
The last time I felt something while kissing someone was four years ago and that hadn’t ended well.
Her spunk reminded me of Kiersten.
Great, that’s just what I needed… to lust after my best friends fiancée.
I stayed in the hallway for an hour. I listened as she changed from piece to piece, each one of them perfectly flawless but void of emotion.
For some reason, it made me sad.
Music wasn’t really music unless your soul was exposed, unless your heart was either bursting or breaking.
And hers… was doing neither.
Then again, who was I to judge? I would have used the piano for kindling if she hadn’t barged in on me.
With a sigh, I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes. What if. Damn, I hated those two words.
“Are you lost?” A female voice asked.
I opened my eyes, a girl the size of a middle schooler was looking at me like I was the ghost of Christmas past. Her eyes went wide as she looked at my neck and then lower. Yeah, I really didn’t fit the part of Musical Performance major.
“No,” I said curtly, closing my eyes again.
“You look familiar.”
My eyes opened, and then realization seemed to dawn in that smart little head of hers.
“Gotta run.” I pushed away from the wall.
“Wait, has anyone ever told you, that you look a lot like—”
“Adam Levine?” I interrupted. “All the freaking time. See ya.”
Close call, close call. I ran out of the building, pausing only to look at my reflection in the window.
Damn it.
My hair was beginning to lighten again. How had I not noticed that? I was starting to get careless — lazy.
And my entire existence depended on keeping my secret from the world.
I made a mental note to stop off at the drug store and grab some more hair dye.
The guy with the sandy brown hair and smiling eyes was gone — and I’d replaced him with an imposter — a picture of what I felt like on the inside.
Dark.
An empty void.
Chapter Ten
Ashton freaking Hyde, how I loathe you! My roommate had found out about my obsession and littered my walls with his sexy face. I guess there were worse things to stare at. Damn his blue eyes. —Saylor
Saylor
By the time Tuesday rolled around, I was dragging my feet. All the late night practices were getting to me and I still couldn’t get Sexy Stranger out of my mind. Yes, I’d officially resorted to calling him Sexy Stranger.
Ugh.
I walked back toward the dorms. I’d promised my study partner I’d stop by and go over our plans for our freshman project. I’d only met her once, but she seemed really nice. Added bonus, she seemed like the type of girl who didn’t make the other person do all the work.
I kept my head down as people walked by me. Being a social butterfly was never high on my priority list. Plus, I never really knew what to do when people looked at me. Was I supposed to smile? Wave? I always felt awkward and uncomfortable and then there was that whole long hallway scenario. Seriously. What are you supposed to do when you and one other person are on opposite ends of the hall walking by one another? Five minutes into walking and it’s like, okay, let’s just acknowledge that each of us are attempting to pay attention to everything but each other and then, boom, at the last minute, “Oh hey I didn’t see you there, what’s up?” Lame.