Page 2 of Only You

Washington, D.C.

I’m fine. It was a random migraine. Nothing to worry about , Dani tried to reason with herself the next morning.

After a long night of staring at the ceiling and researching all her symptoms until she was sure it wasn’t a sign of an upcoming aneurysm, all she was left with was the embarrassment of running out of class.

She blamed that stranger and his hypnotising music.

He and his stupid, cute smile were the cause of something wrong—

‘Nope,’ she declared as she tossed her bag over her shoulder, turned to her full-length mirror, and pointed at herself.

‘You are fine. You are going to go to orchestra practice and work on your composition and everything will be fine. Then, you will pick up your favourite tacos for dinner and go home because everything is fine . Got it?’

Mirror Dani nodded enthusiastically, enough for her to leave the room confidently.

She grabbed her cello and lugged it out to her car before driving to the auditorium, greeting people in a blur; her pep talk had made her late.

She chatted to a viola player and the second chair cello, quickly tuning her instrument.

Finishing just in time, the director came in mere seconds after she checked her last string.

‘All right, people,’ the conductor, Dr Carver, said as he went to the podium. ‘As I said last practice, today is our first run-through of the entire concert. We only have a few weeks to make it perfect, so let’s not waste time. On my count.’

Dani took her position and let the worries of her questionable feelings melt away, focusing on the music.

‘Good work today,’ Dr Carver told her after practice. ‘And before you ask, yes, I finally picked the pieces for our next concert and will be giving you the sheet music for it next practice.’

‘Yes,’ Dani said, pumping her fist in victory, understanding this was no small feat.

As one of the few Black conductors to have led a major symphony orchestra, he took teaching the next generation of musicians very seriously.

Dr Carver very rarely gave out advanced copies of sheet music, wanting the orchestra to bond over learning together.

However, his desire to train her to be a conductor often meant he gave her more leeway.

She wasn’t set on the goal, but she did appreciate the advantages.

‘Don’t get too excited yet,’ he said. ‘First, I wanted to introduce you to someone.’

He walked towards the auditorium seats, where small clusters of people talked. Dani almost stopped short at the sight of a familiar face among them. Her mind only vaguely registered that she was still following Dr Carver and not walking up to the guitarist – Mr Jones – from yesterday.

‘Danielle, this is Ross, a former student of mine,’ he introduced.

Dani snatched her eyes from Mr Jones and looked at the person next to him.

‘Hi,’ she said, holding her hand out. ‘Nice to meet you.’

‘Likewise. You play beautifully,’ Ross complimented as he shook her hand. Dani forced a smile, despite how on edge she felt with Jones’s eye on her. God, she hoped he didn’t bring up the migraine here. She didn’t need Dr Carver thinking she was sick and giving away a potential solo.

‘Ross plays violin with the New York Philharmonic,’ Dr Carver explained. ‘They’re holding auditions soon. I wanted him to come see you.’

‘Oh, really,’ she said, stunned by her teacher’s generosity.

‘Really and honestly, as long as you play like that, your spot is all but guaranteed,’ Ross praised. ‘How long have you wanted to go to New York?’

‘Oh, um, not long,’ she said, tucking a loose braid behind her ear. ‘I’m still prepping my audition piece.’

‘Well, in that case, the only tip I would give is to make your sight-reading as good as your practised materials,’ he suggested. ‘But even if you don’t make it, you’ll leave an impression.’

Dani waved off the compliment. ‘They probably see thousands of musicians. I doubt they would remember me.’

‘You’d be surprised,’ Mr Jones interjected, his deep voice slipping effortlessly into the conversation.

‘Oh, Dani, this is Jones,’ Ross introduced. ‘He studied music, too. Not orchestra like us, but if you ever need someone to play bass, this is your guy.’ Ross clasped Mr Jones – just Jones, she guessed – on the shoulder, and he smiled modestly.

‘Okay, okay,’ Jones said, shrugging off Ross’s hand. ‘Don’t overdo it. Nice to meet you, Dani.’

She raised a brow at him but smiled politely.

‘You, too.’ She looked towards Dr Carver. ‘I actually have to go, so…’

‘Of course. Carry on. Just think about the auditions, okay?’ he urged.

‘Sure, and thanks for the tip, Ross. Bye, guys.’ She did her best to make sure it didn’t look like she was running away, settling for a speed walk instead of a sprint.

The sound of footsteps echoed behind her but there were too many people to tell if anyone was following her.

Her hands were jittery as she gripped the railing, descending the front steps.

Maybe she just needed to go to the hospital after all…

‘Hey.’

Dani stopped short. She cursed under her breath before turning slowly.

Jones’s gaze punched her right in the gut.

His eyes burned with intense concern as they met hers.

After a moment, he broke eye contact. She swallowed nervously, wondering if she looked as embarrassed as she felt.

When he looked back at her, his concern was gone, replaced by a friendly, distracting smile, as if it were never there.

Dani narrowed her eyes at the change. There was something inherently familiar about the sudden change and him.

It made her nerves stand on their end in anticipation because—

‘I know you.’

‘What?’

‘I–I mean I remember you from class. Sorry about storming out. I had a bad headache but I’m fine now,’ she explained.

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Um… get better soon.’

She nodded in a hurry before scurrying towards her car, cringing as she repeated the conversation in her head. Of course, she knew him; she just met him yesterday. But that’s not what I meant. The thought was a bit chilling as she paused, her hand on the door handle of her car.

For a moment, she had felt like she had seen Jones hide away his emotions a thousand times.

Just like the headache, the sense of déjà vu was overwhelming, but it disappeared too quickly to understand.

She shook her head and chalked it up to exhaustion.

There were too many things in life happening for her to be stuck on a random headache and a random guy.

After all, she was fine.

Stephen Jones watched Danielle walk towards the parking lot, dazed by her words as everything clicked. I think I know you , he thought as he walked back to the auditorium.

Before that moment, he wanted to believe his memories were real but there was always a seed of doubt.

Minds were fickle and what could be ‘memories’ could be vivid delusions.

After all, his life was pretty normal, and he doubted that he would actually experience the epic love that haunted him for years.

But here she was, right in front of him once more – and he doubted he would ever see her again.

Truthfully, as he pulled out a small notebook from his back pocket, he hoped he wouldn’t. He flipped open to the page he had written on that morning, documenting the piano scales he had practised. He had only completed eight out of twelve. Jones chuckled humourlessly at the timing of everything.

He hadn’t planned on being on campus today.

He rarely visited Howard since graduating a few years ago.

Allen had invited him out of the blue to be a guest and he didn’t have anything previously planned.

It was coincidence that led him here. But, as he had known for years, this was inevitable.

It always was, no matter how much it shouldn’t be.

Like all his lives before, he’d found her again.

‘Shit,’ he mumbled, closing the notebook, tucking it away just as he approached Ross back in the auditorium.

‘All good?’ Ross asked.

‘Yep.’

Ross handed over a to-go coffee cup. ‘Don’t forget this. You know how you are, and this is a theatre.’

Jones smiled as he grabbed it. ‘I was coming back for it,’ he lied.

‘Yeah, yeah. Let’s go.’

He fell in step just behind his friend, taking a sip of his coffee and winced. It was ice cold. He threw it away in the nearest trash can.

He didn’t have time to waste on bad coffee.