Page 37 of Loving the Tormentor

Nyx

good girl – Artemas

My heart is beating against my ribcage. A chaotic Presto tempo that makes it hard to breathe.

I'm running late because Chase offered to drive me but didn't bother to show up on time. The argument we had in the car already put me on edge. Now Achilles still won't let go of the back of my neck as he walks us past the doors into the concert hall and guides me toward the audience seats.

I vaguely hear him say something, but he's standing on my left, and I’m not looking at him, so I'm not sure what to answer.

He walks us past anticipating students, wide eyes stuck on us.

"Let me go," I whisper-hiss. "What are you doing?"

He stops in front of a seat and finally releases me. I don't sit down, my legs simply give out, and my ass luckily ends up on the seat.

"Missed me this weekend?" he says quietly, and I realize that's what he asked a minute ago.

In case I wasn't already a second away from a heart attack, hehasto remind me of this weekend. I can tell his eyes are searching for fear on my face, so I make sure to relax my features despite the panic still thrumming through my veins.

"No," I answer harshly. "Now will you please leave me alone? I have to focus on the piece I'm about to play."

"I'll leave you alone in a minute. Once you've given me your number."

"Why don't you lay down and fall asleep right here, because that'll only happen in your dreams."

He squats in front of me so his face is closer to mine, that insufferable smile of his plastered on his lips. His breath smells of mint with a hint of cigarette. "My opinion has a lot of importance in this orchestra. I'd suggest being extra nice to me."

I lean forward, making sure we're eye to eye. "You're notthatbig of a deal, Duval. I'll be focusing on the conductor today, if you don’t mind. Can you handle not being the center of attention for five minutes?"

Achillesisthat big of a deal. The fact that he had composed such a quality concerto in his teen years makes him exceptional. But I've had two days of suffering after Friday. Enough time crying on my own in bed to realize that I can't separate an artist from his art. Achilles could be the best player in the history of time, but he still lost my admiration after what he did.

All that’s there now is a bitter taste in my mouth, a terror I can hardly control. And hidden deep beneath, in a dark place within myself that I never want to truly acknowledge, there's the thrill and pleasure I felt when he touched me.

Still smiling like a fucking idiot, he shakes his head. "You and I both know I'm that important. But you keep running that beautiful mouth."

He puts two hands on my thighs and squeezes hard enough that it reverberates to my core as he stands before me.

"Play well."

I'm not sure if it's an order or encouragement, but he's going toward the stage by the time I'm coming back to the present.

He steps on stage, standing in front of the musician chairs and next to the head of department, Mrs. Oakes, and the conductor, Miss Rivera.

The concert hall is something out of a dream. I tried to visit a couple of years ago, but they only let music students in unless there's a public show. Silver Falls University was built in the 19thcentury, and its concert hall reflects the beautiful style of European opera houses. Shaped like a horseshoe, it has the reputation of having exceptional acoustics that I'm buzzing to experience. It has two levels of seating: the parquet on the ground floor, and the circle on the level above. We're all currently sitting on the ground level.

All the lights are on, including the gorgeous chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Even being in the fifth row, Achilles's piercing eyes find mine, making sure I know he's not forgetting about me.

Mrs. Oakes takes a step forward and smiles. She's a woman in her early sixties who has a stern face and a tight bun at the top of her head, but every time she talks, there's a kindness in her tone that shows how much she cares for all of us to do well in our careers.

A round of applause rings out for her, and she puts a hand up to ask for silence.

"Welcome to all our new musicians, and welcome back to our orchestra. In case you don't know, we’ve called you here on the first day to assess where everyone should be sitting on stage within your instrument section. This is not a competition, nor a reason to stress. We aim to have the best harmony within the orchestra, and that’s it. Every chair is just as important as its neighbor. You'll learn that this is how it works in professionalorchestras. Respect for your fellow musicians comes above anything else."

She shows the two people behind her and carries on. "Miss Rivera will be the main decision-maker here, but Mr. Duval and I will be advising her."

There's a round of whispers in the room, mainly from what I'm assuming are other new students. She raises a hand again.

"I'm sure you all know Achilles Duval, and I want to take a moment to thank him for his help. We don't always have access to such talent, and we're very grateful for him to take time out of his busy schedule to guide all of you. If he gives you any tips, consider yourself lucky. Now." Her gaze becomes a little harder, her lips pinching. "This is a professional environment. Please, don't bother him while he's working, and let him deal with one student at a time. We're not at a meet-and-greet with your favorite celebrity. Do not disappoint me with that."