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Page 9 of Meet Me at the Metro (Gildenhill #1)

9

FRIENDLY

E L L I E

M y sleepy senses are awakened by buzzing sounds from my nightstand, interrupting the dreams my consciousness was just starting to slip into. My eyes flutter open, and I turn my heavy body over, reaching for my phone. As the screen lights up with a FaceTime from Mom , I take notice of the time that’s displayed at the top— 3:17 AM.

Without a second thought, I answer her call, an immediate sense of warmth spreading over me as my eyes take in the familiar features of her face.

“Hey, Mom,” I say groggily, wiping my tired eyes as they adjust to the bright light on her end of the call.

“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I keep forgetting about the time change.”

“It’s okay.”

“I just had to call and make sure that you’re okay,” she tells me softly. “Hannah told me about what happened. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” I attempt to lie, honestly grateful that my other best friend back home decided to fill her in on the details so I didn’t have to admit the embarrassing truth to her myself.

“You’re not, and you don’t have to be.”

Her words instantly open the floodgates, relinquishing my overwhelming emotions and causing my eyes to tear up. “I feel so stupid, Mom. So humiliated.”

“Baby, none of what happened was your fault.”

“But it feels like it was,” I cry, sitting up in the bed to keep my tears from falling against my pillowcase. “It feels like I wasn’t good enough.”

Her line goes quiet for a moment, and she takes a deep breath. “Can I tell you something?”

I nod with a sniffle, wrapping my blankets around me tighter to shield myself from the cool draft blowing through my dark bedroom.

“The right person will never make you feel that way . Ever. And I know that’s hard to see now, but one day, when you do find that right person, you’ll look back and understand why it was never supposed to be John.”

“But he’s not even the worst part.”

“I know,” she nods in full understanding, her dark, green eyes full of worry. “Have you talked to Lucy?”

“No,” I shake my head fervently. “She’s tried calling, but I can’t answer. I don’t want to.”

“You don’t have to. At least not right now. I can’t tell you how much I wish I could be there for you, sweetie.”

“I wish you were here, too,” I exhale, feeling the distance between us suddenly become more apparent. “I miss you and Dad so much. I didn’t ever imagine being away from you guys being this hard.”

“Still, you’re doing amazing, baby girl,” Dad says somewhere off in the background. My tight muscles immediately start to ease. “And we’re so proud of everything you’re doing. You keep holding that stubborn head of yours up high and working hard. Don’t let anyone or anything back home keep you from doing what you came to London to do, alright?”

“I love y’all” is the only response I can muster without turning into another puddle of emotions. I settle back against my pillow and curl up beneath my tangle of blankets, somehow already feeling so much better after hearing my parent’s voices.

“We love you more,” they say together.

“You don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything, honey,” Mom insists. “ Anything . Whether it’s the middle of the night or the middle of the day—if you even just need to talk, you call, okay?”

“Okay. I promise I will. ”

“You get some rest. Send us a message when you wake up, alright? Because may I remind you that you still have yet to send me any pictures!”

“Oh lord.” I roll my eyes, feeling relieved to find myself giggling. “I’ll send some tomorrow!”

“You told me that yesterday!”

“Well, sorry! That was before I ended up getting my heart broken! I’ll send some, okay?”

“We’re holding you to it,” Dad says, smiling. “Goodnight, baby girl.”

“Goodnight.”

I end the call and wipe away any residual tears from my eyes as I tuck my phone somewhere beneath the entanglement of sheets around me and relax back against my soft mattress.

I settle my thoughts on my Dad’s advice, mulling over it in my head as my gaze skims the faint outlines of the musical theatre posters hung against the walls of my moonlit bedroom.

Don’t let anyone or anything back home keep you from doing what you came to London to do, alright?

I blink against the darkness around me until my eyes grow so heavy that they can’t stand to stay open another moment longer, and I make a promise to myself not to dream about anything but London— and maybe the people dwelling in it .

I wish I could manage to erase John from my life as well as I’ve managed to erase him from my dreams these past seven days. As hard as I’ve tried moving on from our relationship, my efforts to forget about him come up short every time a text message from him pops up on my phone. Although I’ve left every single one of them on read, my silence in our thread of messages hasn’t stopped him from sending more .

My ringtone breaks through the silence as Professor Henderson clicks to a new slide of his lecture projected at the front of the classroom and conjures everyone’s heads back at Connor’s and my table.

“Phones should be silenced or left at home, Miss Mattice.”

“Sorry. Yes sir,” I obediently nod, rather than arguing with ‘ I thought it was silenced’ like I want to.

Henderson immediately continues reading through his list of bullet points ahead. I pretend to listen as I carefully reach into my bag and quickly silence my phone. My eyes unwillingly catch sight of the text message displayed on the screen.

I’ve got news. Please call.

Connor must have caught sight of the text, too, because he sighs at the same time as I do. “Block the idiot already.”

“Oh, I’m about to,” I whisper through gritted teeth, annoyed that even being an ocean away and a week into our breakup, John is still managing to mess things up for me.

He smirks, “Dare you.”

I quickly accept the challenge as I discreetly unlock my phone, click on his contact, and block his number entirely.

Connor does his best to keep his chuckles beside me quiet. “How mad do you think he’ll be when he sees that his messages aren’t delivering?”

“Hopefully livid.”

“Alright, students,” Professor Henderson calls from his podium. For a moment, I’m sure that the two of us are about to be booted from the lecture for our quiet yapping, but instead, he announces, “Class is dismissed early tonight. Please don’t forget to work on your summary and critical analysis of Act I of ‘ Othello .’ I expect you have them ready to present and discuss by the beginning of class on Monday. Have a good weekend.”

As though we’re afraid our instructor will take back his offer at a moment’s notice, Connor and I quickly jump up from our seats, gather our things, and hurry out of the classroom.

“He’s going to give me arthritis before I even graduate,” Connor banters. “This is the third bloody essay he’s assigned to us so far, and we’ve only been in his class for a month.”

“But Connor, knowledge is the wing wherewith we fly to heaven, ” I tease, mocking one of the most recent Shakespearean-inspired lectures we were forced to sit through.

“Then, I suppose I’ll fly straight to hell because I don’t want it!”

“I’ll fly with you then because I don’t want it either! In fact, let’s make a vow right now.”

“Okay,” he nods, smiling. “What?”

“We vow from this day on to never— ever— be involved in any stage production that even mentions the name Shakespeare.”

“ Ha! Easy. Deal!”

We push through the double doors leading to the courtyard outside. Our giggles cut through the quiet and light night air as we walk down the winding stone pavements of campus.

As we fall into an easy, casual stride together, Connor mentions, “I’m heading back to that burger joint tonight if you want to tag along. We can eat, study a little bit, and drone on about our beloved thoughts on Shakespeare and his timeless works of literature.”

“Yay, more studying,” I groan, knowing that his offer —aside from the eating portion of it— is the last thing either of us wants to be doing on a Friday night. However, deep down, I know the only way we will make it to the end of this semester is with each other’s help.

“I know. Doesn’t it sound like so much fun?”

“S o much ,” I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes. “No, but actually, that sounds great. Would you mind if we made a stop really quickly, though? I need to grab a flyer from the music hall.”

“Of course, I don’t mind.”

“But you’re gonna have to lead the way because I have no absolutely no clue where I’m going.”

“This way,” he laughs, nodding his head to the left as he starts to lead us across the lush grass of the courtyard.

It takes several minutes to make it across the campus to the music hall, and when we get there, I assure Connor, “I’ll be right back. It should only take me a second.”

As I push through the doors of the music room and step inside, the lights are on. They cast their white glow against the entirety of the space, making the various golden and silver instruments scattered across the room appear as though they were shining. I begin my search for the flyers I came here for, relieved when I finally find a stack of them waiting for me near the conductor’s podium positioned in front of the rows of arched chairs.

The quiet shuffle of my footsteps is the only sound accompanying me through the room until the hammering of piano keys shatters the silence. The brash sound startles and halts me in place. My ears ring with the indiscernible notes left behind, and I search for where the abrupt commotion came from.

“Oh, fuck me!”

The voice is muffled as it reaches my ears, but it guides me toward the cracked doorway of one of the private practice rooms in the back.

“ This is fucking rubbish, is what this is .”

I shouldn’t smile as I recognize the owner of that rugged voice, but I do.

Once again, the space goes quiet, and I do my best to keep my steps and breathing silent as I sneak closer to the door and peek inside. Theo’s back is to me as I inch my head inside, the muscles lining the back of his tattooed arms on full display as his hands trace the ivory and black keys of the electric piano in front of him.

“That can’t be fucking right,” he mutters.

I stand gaping as his hands travel to his hair, clutching the messy, dark-blonde strands tightly in his fingers. I swallow, my throat drying with guilt because this feels intimate — it feels wrong to watch. I really shouldn’t be invading his privacy like this.

I should really just go.

However, Theo’s warm humming shatters that thought completely, freezing me in place as it purrs a heavenly melody while he flips through the music sheets before him. I watch as he draws his pencil tightly into his hand, marking the faded lines of the pages furiously as if he’s trying to piece together the notes and chords.

The music sheets. I’ve seen those before...

I admire the way he moves, appreciating how his long, broad fingers move from the sheets of music back to the keys of the piano. The melody he begins to play sounds nearly identical to the one that fell from his lips just moments ago.

“You sound close to figuring it out,” I blurt without thinking.

He jumps from his seat at the piano, and his eyes snap back to meet mine. “ What the actual fuck, Nora? ”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t trying to scare you.”

“Then don’t sneak up on me like that,” he bites back. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

“I had to come grab a flyer. I just heard you back here making a fuss and was coming to see if—”

“I was not making a fucking fuss,” he growls.

“No?” I check, tilting my head to the side as my eyes rake over his tense shoulders and crossed arms. “It sure did sound like it.”

“You made your point. I’m fine .” He loosens his tight fists and forces his gaze back to the music sheets.

“Really, Theo,” I call out to him softly. “ Are you alright?”

“I’m. Fine. ” He rolls his shoulders and allows silence to fill the air. After what seems like an eternity, he asks, “A flyer for what?”

“Piano lessons,” I mutter, cutting my eyes to the floor.

“What do you need to learn to play the piano for? I thought you were majoring in musical theatre?”

“I am.” I narrow my eyes at him. “I have to learn to play an instrument along with my studies.”

“They’re in the front,” he tells me, not giving me an ounce more of his attention as he finds his place back at the piano again.

Though his words should be my cue to leave, I’m once again stuck here at the doorway, not wanting to admit that I can’t bring myself to leave. Deep down, I’m holding on to the hope that he’ll say something more to keep this interaction from ending like it did the other night.

The air lingering between us grows thicker, and I can tell he feels the change because he finally turns back to me again. As he looks me over this time, I notice the way his eyes search my own and how they fall to my lips for a long moment. I’m left disappointed more than I would ever willingly say out loud when he jerks his head back to his work in front of him.

“You can close the door on your way out.”

“Fine,” I say through gritted teeth, slamming it as a bitter cloak of rejection settles around me.

Why does it have to be like this between the two of us? Why all of this back and forth, and never a clear answer as to what the hell either of us wants from each other? Why can’t I just ask him what’s wrong and get a clear answer? Why can’t he just tell me the meaning behind those music sheets and why they have him so wound up?

At the end of the day, I know that none of it is my business, and it unnerves me immensely that I find myself caring so damn much. It bothers me even more to feel so uncertain of whether or not, deep down, he cares just as much. Because if he genuinely didn’t, why did he ask me to come with him last Friday night?

The walls that Evie and Harvey were talking about are as clear as day now, and after seeing the way he acted toward me just moments ago, I’m not entirely convinced that Theo will ever let them down long enough for me to see why he’s got them up in the first place.

Stomping to the front of the music room, I put an end to my restless thoughts and quickly snatch up the flyer I came here for before hurrying back outside to Connor.

His dark eyes are playful as he greets me, “What’d you do in there, get lost?”

“Pretty much,” I fakely giggle, trying to mask how flustered my encounter with Theo made me. “It took me a bit to find the flyers.”

Liar . The flyers aren’t what kept you occupied.

I force a smile to my face. “Ready to head out?”

“Yep,” he grins, squeezing the back of my shoulders playfully. “This way, my lady.”

As we continue through the campus, he asks, “What’d you have to grab a flyer for anyways?”

“Piano lessons,” I groan.

“Why didn’t you say that to begin with? I can give you lessons, Ellie.”

“You play?”

“A little bit,” he smirks. “Enough to teach you the basics. My dad was a musician and showed me a thing or two. Seriously , let me give you lessons. I’m not a professional or anything, so I’d give them to you for free.”

“No way,” I shake my head adamantly. “I’m not letting you do that. You have enough on your plate with classes as is.”

“And so do you,” he retorts, nudging me with his elbow. “For real, I insist. I’d love to teach you.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to put you on the spot like this. Maybe you should think about it a bit more before—”

“You’re not putting me on the spot, Ellie. I’m offering, and we’re doing this. We can plan weekly lessons after Henderson’s class on Fridays. Is that good for you?”

“I guess,” I agree timidly, feeling guilty but also extremely thankful for his proposal. “Are you sure, Connor?”

“I’m absolutely positive.”

“You’re the best, you know that?” I lean over and squeeze him tight enough that he grunts. We both laugh. “Seriously, I can’t thank you enough.”

“Don’t thank me,” he says humbly. He brushes his rich brown hair away from his brow line as I finally do him the favor of releasing him and smiles. “Anything for you, Ellie.”

Just as he speaks those words, our feet approach the edge of the busy street. The red, blue, yellow, and green lights of the vibrant city cast their glow atop us as we wait together for the crosswalk to give us the signal to proceed.

With the enormous campus now behind us, I do my best to fight the urge to look back toward the music room one last time and curse myself for my reasons for wanting to glance back in the first place. I don’t let myself, though, because deep down, I know that it would only cause my mind to wander about Theo even more.

And he’s consuming my mind enough as is.