Page 10

R upert Von London, my idol and world-renowned pianist, is my new private lessons instructor. It still seems so surreal.

When I heard he was going to be doing lessons on campus this semester, I was the first to put my name on the list.

I still can’t believe I get to work with him. It’s a dream, and in the next five minutes, it will come true.

Early as usual, Sunny and I are waiting outside of the door to the reserved practice room.

But with no sign of him yet, my brain starts running rampant as we wait, muted sounds of instruments playing throughout the other rooms softly filling my ears.

At least I know that I won’t be running into Malik in any of my music classes. The one History class we have together is more than enough.

Although I’m beginning to wonder if I’m getting under his skin more than he is mine. But I know it’s because he’s letting me.

If he wanted, he could flip my world upside down, just like he did back then. But something’s different now—our dynamic has shifted and changed into a new unknown.

That hatred and cruelty still stir in his gaze, but there’s something else that I don’t remember seeing before. I’ve been noticing it more and more lately—a gleam in his eyes that seems to shimmer only when he looks at me.

And I have absolutely no idea how to feel about it.

An older gentleman in a suit rounds the corner, and I recognize him instantly. Just the man I’m waiting for, the legend himself.

Professor Von London strides to me with confidence. His face lights up as I smile at him, lifting my hand up for him to shake.

“You must be Alora.” His hands are full of books, but he shifts them in his arms to shake my hand.

“Yes, sir. It’s an honor to meet you. I am such a fan of your music.”

I open the door for him, and Sunny walks in before him and sits beside the bench—her usual place when I’m playing.

Professor Von London follows us inside, setting the books down on the table. “We have an hour today, and for a good portion of that, I would like to just listen to you play. I want to see how you move with the music, feel the music, and bring it to life. There will be a structure moving forward, a plan and course of action after I get a good grasp on who you are as a pianist. How does that sound?”

My heart races with excitement as I take a seat on the bench and lift the lid of the piano. “That sounds—oh my God—incredible.” I don't try to hide the absolute giddiness coursing through me. “Do you have a piece you would like me to start with?”

“Let’s start with something moderate. Your choice.”

I’ve never been more nervous to put my fingers on the keys in my life. But this feels like a moment . One of those moments that can change everything that happens after.

If he’s impressed with me, he could alter my life. Whether it’s with his connections, setting me up with a professional job, or helping me take my music to the next level.

My fingers brush against the keys, and adrenaline begins pumping through my system.

Something happens to me when I begin to play, taking over my body and soul as my being melts into the piano and music.

I become the chords I’m playing, whether by memory or by sheet music. I dance with the notes.

My old piano teacher used to hate that I swayed so much when I played. But how can I not? The music demands to be felt.

I get lost in the upbeat tempo of the song, and before I know it, I’m striking the final note, listening to it pulse through the room as I’m left breathless.

With his pen and eyes still on his paper, he instructs me to play another, one with a much higher difficulty, one of his own songs, one I have memorized.

My fingers shake with nerves, and I set my hands free, executing his music with passion and precision. My hair swooshes back and forth over my shoulders as I play, only stopping when it finally comes to an end.

I turn on the bench and direct my attention toward Professor Von London, but I don’t dare interrupt. I’ll wait for him to speak first.

“You played that with ease, vigor, and tenacity.” He pauses, studying me carefully. “I gave that to you as a challenge to see where your limit was, but you surpassed it …” He trails off, and my heart jumps into my throat. “Play another. Something to push you.”

Forcing myself to take a breath, I set my iPad on the rest and debate between two pieces, both hard. One that I’ve recently played and perfected and one that I haven’t played in a few years, but it’s still considered one of the most challenging pieces.

Deciding on the latter, I click on Ravel’s “Ondine,” a haunting and dark composition, the first movement of Gaspard de la Nuit .

When I play just the first few notes, he huffs out a short breath, one that sounds happy … I hope.

I want to sit and question if I chose the right or wrong one to perform, but there’s no time. I’m already too deep into the song to turn back, so I let myself once again get lost in the performance.

Six and a half minutes later, I remember exactly where I am and who is listening to me play. Pride bursts in my chest. That was the first time I’d played it in years, and it was nearly perfect.

Hesitantly, I turn to look at Professor Von London, finding him watching me in awe.

“That … was beautiful. I haven’t heard it live in quite some time.” He clicks his tongue. “You played a lot of that from memory. How long had you studied it?”

Shrugging, I tuck my hair behind my ear. “I hadn’t played it in a couple of years. I think the first time I’d played it was when I was thirteen or fourteen.”

His eyes widen, but he stays silent.

Thankfully, he doesn’t make me wait too long. “You are a marvel, Miss Briarwood, unlike anything I’ve seen at this university in decades. Quite honestly, I haven’t met many students your age at this level.” He stares at me with a slight shake and tilt to his head. “Where have you been hiding?”

My cheeks warm at his incredible compliments. “I’ve always had a natural gift with music, but piano has always been my passion. I’ve been in lessons since I was four years old. There’s nothing like it.” My words only build the eagerness more.

“Have you performed anywhere?” He taps his fingers against his leg—fingers that have played at recitals I would’ve killed to attend.

I’m nervous to answer this question. I know how I must, but that doesn’t mean I want to. I want to speak the truth. To tell him that my father always preferred that my gift be a secret. That it would only put me in more danger, more risk.

But I give the political answer, as I always have to anyone who overheard me play. “I’ve always been too shy to perform. But I think I’m getting over that. I want the chance.”

“I think you’re in the right place.” His eyes twinkle with what almost looks like pride , but it’s hard to believe that to be true, as I met him less than ten minutes ago.

I think perhaps I’ll pretend just for a moment that maybe he is proud of me.

“How about we hear one more?” he asks with a glowing grin.

Maybe one day, I’d like to play some of my own music. Not to toot my own horn, but I know that my pieces are good.

For the remainder of the hour, I play pieces for him back to back. After each one, he asks for just one more song. Some fast, some slow, some upbeat, and some haunting. By the time I’m done, I feel a warmth in my chest, a satisfaction that I’ve never felt before.

After Professor Von London leaves when our session is over, I stay in the room, continuing to practice for about another hour before I realize that I’m going to be late.

Gathering my things and throwing them in my bag, I rush out of the room with Sunny. A cold shiver runs down my back, and I stop dead in my tracks in the empty hallway.

Hints of bergamot, ocean waves, and spiced vanilla invade my nose, as if he was standing in this very spot.

Malik .

Part of me wants to know if he was watching me play. But then again, would that be so he had something to use against me in the future? To twist the things I loved into weapons? I don’t really want to find out.

Besides, I’m sure a lot of people on this campus wear that same cologne. I just can’t help but associate it with him.

I get a text from Phillip, and I quickly check it as I walk out of the building.

Phillip: Can’t wait to see you later!

He’s finally in town, and I’m so excited to see him tonight after my study session with Blair.

Phillip and I are just gonna grab coffee or walk around somewhere and catch up. Nothing too formal.

I shoot him a quick text back.

So soon!

June meets me outside of the building to get Sunny from me, as she’s going to watch her while I’m gone for the next couple of hours. I pass my baby girl off to her, knowing she’s about to have the best night, going on a super-long walk that I can’t really take her on without problems.

Blair wants to meet up to study for our Econ class. And to be honest, I could use a study buddy for it. Especially one as smart as her.

We’re going to her house—or her and Griffin’s house since they live together. Honestly, after seeing the Kensingtons’ place, I’m excited to see theirs.

This town is known for its unique architecture. I mean, this town is known for a lot of things. Opulence. Wealth. Being one of the most expensive places to live and hardest to move into because no one ever wants to leave.

But there is something magical about it. It’s unique, unlike anything I’ve seen from the traveling I’ve done. The air seems cleaner, the wildlife happier. It’s … special.

I text Blair quickly to let her know that I’m on my way to Hubert Hall, where we agreed to meet up.

On my way. Should be there in just a few. Thank you so much again!

I know that it’s just my anxiety talking, but there’s still a part of me that thinks this is just some elaborate plan of Malik’s. But to be fair, he would do something like this. There’s no length he won’t go to win.

I wonder why he hates me. I’ve asked myself that for a long time. Was I just in the right place at the right time? Do I remind him of someone? Did I do something to him?

But I never seem to find an answer, and I certainly don’t get any from him.

Was there something I could’ve changed? Apologized for? Something about me that I could’ve altered to save myself from the torment he put me through? Unfortunately, no matter how many times I go down this rabbit hole, it always ends the same...in disappointment.

I wanted to ask him so many times. The words have formed on my lips, but never come out. It’s not like he and I have a lot of conversations to begin with. There’s never really been a chance for an opening.

As I reach Hubert Hall, I find Blair waiting next to the steps outside. She hasn’t looked up yet. She’s typing into her phone. But as I approach her, she jams it into her pocket and greets me with a smile on her face.

“Are you ready?” She brushes her hands down her plaid skirt.

“Yes. Very. Unless, for some reason, I should be worried that you’re a psychopath who is bringing me back to your house to murder me. Then, in that case, I think I’ll change my mind.”

I chuckle, and she laughs along with me.

“It’s funny you used that line. Because the first time I ever went over to Griffin’s house, I made the same joke to him.” She smiles, her eyes seeming to drift as she reminisces.

“That makes me feel better—I think.”

We head toward a parking lot that I’m sure her car is in.

“How did you and Griffin meet?”

“Well, it’s kind of … funny and embarrassing.” She giggles.

“I have to know now.” I encourage her to continue.

“Well, we were both taking English. He was horrible at it. I had a perfect score, of course. His coach threatened to kick him off the team if his grades didn’t go up. While I had no desire to help him at first, I needed money for my dad for his treatment, and Griffin had plenty of money to spare. We were a match made in heaven.”

“So, sunshine and rainbows then?” I ask, genuinely curious about what her journey with love has been.

Having no experience myself, I can’t resist being wrapped up in their love story, wondering what it would be like to have one of my own. It’s not like there hasn’t been opportunity. There’s been plenty. Something just always went wrong.

In high school, I would go on first dates, but they never wanted a second. I used to think something was wrong with me until I got out of that town.

When I spent time with Phillip overseas, there were plenty of chances for me to have second and third dates.

I think my time at Avandale High was just cursed. And if I had to guess who put it there, it would be Malik.

But I’ve dreamed for years of having one person who’s meant for me. A true love. I just haven’t found it yet.

“Oh God, no. It was not sunshine and rainbows. It was snarkiness, treacherous, and one of the hardest paths I’ve ever walked. But I wouldn’t trade it for a single thing.”

“Is it bad if I say that makes me feel better about my own love life?”

She slides into the driver’s seat of her car, and I get into the passenger seat.

She waits until the doors are closed before asking, “Is there someone in the picture?”

“No. Not in the slightest. But I always used to think that when it came to love, it should be easy.”

“If it were easy, everyone would have it. Love can be messy, especially when it’s with someone you care deeply about. Sometimes, the pieces don’t fit perfectly right away; they need some shaping. But if you’re willing to try, it’s always worth it, if it’s meant to be.” She starts the car and lightly laughs off how deep our conversation has become in such a short amount of time. “Sorry, I feel like I overshared.”

“Honestly, it’s been incredible just to have someone to talk to from time to time. Usually, I’m a lot more isolated than this, sticking to the four walls of my bedroom. It’s been really nice, talking with you, Blair.” I suddenly feel very vulnerable. Like I’m setting myself up to be the butt of a joke.

But the only way I’m going to know if this is real or not is to follow the course and hope for the best.

“I have Lumi. And I love him to pieces. But I’m happy to be that person for you. Everybody needs somebody.” She smiles softly at me and then pulls onto the street.

It takes us only a couple of minutes to get to her house, and once again, we’re pulling into a gated entrance, but unlike the Kensingtons’, the Hawthornes’ doesn’t have a booth with security.

But the wealth is on full display nonetheless.

In the driveway, there’s a pickup and a minivan, which is surprising. Who else lives here? Does Griffin have siblings? A big family?

I keep my questions internal as we quickly go inside and set up at their giant dining room table.

The topic of love falls to the wayside as we dive deep into Economics. We go back and forth with questions to quiz each other until an hour and a half has passed by.

Phillip will be here soon to pick me up to get coffee.

“Can I ask you something?” she asks hesitantly.

A lump is already in my throat before I agree, nodding my head.

Her voice is low and soft, as if what she’s about to ask is meant to stay between us. “I haven’t known Malik for a very long time. But I know him enough to know that he feels a certain way about you.” She glances away and purses her lips before continuing, “He may be an absolute fucking idiot—I’m not saying he’s not. But I’m saying that I’ve caught him looking at you when you didn’t notice. And I’ve never seen that look in his eyes before.” She takes a breath. “Have you guys ever …”

My head is shaking before I can manage to get the words out. “No. God, no.”

“Are you not interested?” she quickly asks, catching me off guard.

“He really hasn’t told you guys how we know each other?” I don’t know why it hurts me that he’s kept our past hidden from his friends. But it does nonetheless.

“What do you mean?” she murmurs.

But before I can answer, I’m cut off as Malik, of all people, strolls into the room with arrogant confidence, as if this is his house. And from the lack of a shirt, I’m starting to wonder if it is.

I’m starting to wonder about a lot of other things that I should most definitely not be thinking about when it comes to my bully.

I’m not blind. I can see how attractive he is. How toned his body is. How the ink wraps around his skin, decorating his arms, chest, torso, v-line, abs, and thighs. I want to know what they mean. I want to know what each one represents.

I hate that I want to know any of that at all. But I want even more. I want to know how the tattoos shudder when he’s touched. I also wanna scrub my brain out of my skull for thinking that.

“Blair, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he snaps when he locks eyes with Blair.

Griffin slaps his back as he walks past him into the room, the skin-on-skin contact sounding like lightning striking. “Watch your tone when you’re talking to her, Malik.”

“You’re right; I’m sorry. Let me direct that attitude where I mean it.” His gaze shifts. “To you .” He steps forward, leaning down and resting his hands against the back of a chair across the table from us. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” I snap, my tone sharper than expected.

Blair’s head whips my way in shock.

Malik cocks his head to the side, his eyes running up and down my body.

“Blair invited me over to study. But don’t worry; I’m leaving now.” I hook my backpack over my shoulder.

Malik pushes away from the chair, rounding the table toward me and getting in my face. “I don’t want you to come back to my house.”

I cross my arms as my face twists into a scowl. “In my defense, I wouldn’t have come if I had known you lived here. The last thing I want to do is be in the same house as you.”

His head whips over to Blair, who is avoiding looking at us, Griffin’s arm wrapped around her. He snarls, “Blair, seriously? Did you do this on purpose? Stay out of my damn business.”

Griffin’s voice is cold yet hesitant as he warns Malik, “Careful, buddy. You need to chill out before you take it too far, especially with my girl.”

Malik chuckles manically, reminding me of the Malik that I know well. “Or what?”

“ Malik .” Blair exhales his name in disappointment.

Griffin strides around the table toward him, shoving his shoulders. “Go for a walk, dude. You need to calm down. Love you, man, but you’re being a fucking prick.”

“Well, I’ll see you guys later. Or hopefully, not all of you. Thanks for having me over, Blair.” I wave kindly to her before turning back toward the exit of the dining room, which, of course, is behind the now-dueling boys.

Malik tears his angry stare from Griffin, aiming it straight down at me. “Where do you think you’re going?”

I throw my hands up in the air as frustration weighs me down. “What?”

His eyebrows pinch together, and he steps toward me. “Where are you going? I didn’t see a car out front when I got back from my run.”

I run my hand down my face. “So, you don’t want me here? But you also don’t want me to leave? And you want to know how I’m leaving? As if you deserve any of that.”

When I stride past him, he catches my forearm in his grasp, surprisingly gentle but firm enough that I can’t budge. “Answer me.”

I roll my eyes at him and then look up into his darkened eyes. “Let me make sure you hear this plain as day.” I clear my throat. “Fuck. You. Malik.”

His eyes brighten, and ever so slightly, a smirk tips up the corner of his lips. Of course, he finds this amusing. “You wish.”

“Believe me”—I stand up on my toes, closing the gap between our faces by a couple of inches—“I would rather cut my hands off and never play piano again than sleep with you.”

His tongue flicks against his bottom lip before he bites down on it, his eyes falling to my lips.

And there it is.

That spark in his eyes that I’m getting weirdly accustomed to seeing when he looks at me. Burning bright and uncontrolled.

Maybe I could taunt him with the answer to his question, even if it’s not true. “I have to go. I have a date.”

Spinning on my heel, I stride through the arched entryway of the dining room and cross the grand foyer to the front door, quickly slipping on my shoes.

“Oh, yeah? With who?” he demands, charging after me, his feet stomping on the marble before coming to a stop two feet behind me.

“Jesus!” I jump, not realizing how close he is.

“Who is it?” he asks again, his eyes boring deep into me.

My phone dings, and I’m sure it’s Phillip, letting me know that he’s here. “You don’t know him. He just transferred in.”

I walk toward the door and pull it open, but Malik stops it, slamming it closed.

Spinning around, I realize he’s still touching the door, and I’m caged in beneath his arm. His body’s close enough that I feel the heat coming off of him in pulsing waves.

“What’s his name?” He leans down further, crouching low enough to meet my eyes, pinning his other hand against the door near my waist.

There’s no way … right?

He’s not … jealous?

Is he?

Oh, I so do not have time for this.

“I’m not telling you. Now get out of my way before my knee finds a new home in your balls.” I smile up at him, knowing it doesn’t reach anywhere near my eyes.

His eyelids twitch, probably out of annoyance. “Who’s watching your dog?”

I scoff, crossing my arms. “That’s none of your concern.”

“Oh, so you’re being a bad dog mom, hoping to get laid?” he challenges me, making me feel like I’m going to explode from frustration.

He knows how to wind me up—it’s a skill he’s perfected over the years.

“Of course not. I have a sitter, you imbecile.” I roll my eyes. “Now get out of my way.”

He stays where he is, stubborn as always.

Pressing my hands against his bare, tattooed chest, I ignore how warm he is and shove him hard, but he doesn’t falter a single step.

My heart rate is picking up, racing faster because of his nearness. It’s putting me on edge in all of the good and bad ways.

I can smell his cologne, even now, without a shirt, like it’s his natural scent. And it’s delicious.

It also happens to be exactly what I smelled outside of my practice room earlier.

“Were you in the music hall today?” I ask him, changing the subject and gaining an odd boost of confidence.

His face hardens, his sharp features shifting back into stone. I didn’t even notice the softness and the warmth in his face until now, when it’s gone.

Leaning down, he hovers his mouth over my ear, and my heart starts to thump louder in my chest for his answer.

Was he watching me? Why the hell does that excite me as much as it does?

Anticipation rattles my bones, and a shiver runs down my back.

Then he opens his mouth and ruins any hope of a new version of him in my mind. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

Flattening my hands on his chest—on the large letters of the word villain —I push him off of me, flipping him off. “With pleasure.”

Throwing the front door open, I walk out into the chilly air—a stark difference from the heat burning in my cheeks. The door shuts behind me almost immediately, slamming closed with force.

Slowly walking down the stairs, I see Phillip’s car. Of course he had it flown in—his precious Rolls-Royce.

The driver’s door flings open, and he rushes out of his seat, looking up at me coming down the stairs with his arms held out.

“Alora!” he calls out happily.

He knows I have POTS and can’t run down the stairs toward him, no matter how excited I am.

“Hi!” I call out, my voice giddy.

He starts climbing the steps, two at a time, and he meets me halfway on the first landing, wrapping his arms around me and gently picking me up.

The aroma of citrus and burning wood—nostalgic and familiar—floods my nose, replacing Malik’s overbearing scent. I breathe him in as he slowly lowers me back to the ground.

“How are you feeling? Still up for a quick bite or coffee or something? I’m totally down for cruising a bit, too, like old times.” He smiles, his blue eyes bright with joy.

After Malik’s heated confrontation, I’m suddenly feeling a lot more tired than I was beforehand. “Honestly, cruising sounds great. But nothing too crazy. Straighter roads, please,” I request with a shy grin.

Guilt at requesting anything because of my illness seeps into my chest, as it always has. I hate feeling like a burden, like I’m hindering someone else’s day.

“Sounds great to me.” He winks and offers me his arm to help me down the rest of the stairs.

“How were your flights? Good?” I grab my water bottle from my purse and take a sip through the spill-proof straw.

He nods, stepping ahead of me and getting the car door. “They were actually. But I slept during most of them.”

“I would too.” I chuckle, knowing all too well how I handle flights. With a sleepy drug and a fat nap.

“After you.”

He holds the door open for me, and I slide inside, the custom starry roof glittering above me.

Politely shutting the door behind me, he walks around to his side of the car and gets in the driver’s seat. “Away we go.”

He pulls around the fountain and out of the driveway, and we fall into conversation as if we saw each other yesterday.

Tate McRae plays through the speakers as he tells me how the last couple of months have been for him since I left.

He fills me in on his ex, who he recently broke up with. How transferring to HEAU was a business decision and not because he wanted to flee to the other side of the world to get away from her.

Apparently, his dad wants him to take on more responsibilities with his family—the opposite thing he wants. Which is why he’s here. His father supported this, as any parent would—but especially those who care more about public opinion and image than they do their own children’s happiness.

Our fathers are the reason we bonded right away, getting along on the disdain for them. But we stayed friends because we liked spending time together.

I remember the first time we went out in public together in Italy. Our photo at lunch ended up in the news. Headlines were everywhere, like Political Alliance Forming? Daughter of Congressman Briarwood and Son of Senator Stephens—a Match Made in Heaven.

But I’ve never thought of Phillip that way. He’s my friend, and that’s all I want him to be. Is he cute? Sure, yeah. He’s hot. But there’s no spark, no jolt when we touch. It’s platonic.

I also fill him in on the last few months of chaos. Specifically going into detail on the last two weeks after running into Malik.

Phillip, of course, has his own opinion of him, and I know he’s not wrong.

But there was a moment today, a brief second, when it was like I saw a glimpse behind the fortress. But as fast as it appeared, it was gone.

I keep today’s outburst to myself, unsure if I want him to know where Malik lives in case he decides to try to play hero.

He may be my closest friend, but I worry that he might try to confront Malik about everything, which is the last thing I want.

Unfortunately, he’ll only be here for a day or so before traveling to the Bahamas for a family vacation, but he’ll be back soon.

We spend the next hour or so just driving around and chatting about anything and everything, and by the time we head back to my dorm, I’m exhausted.

He pulls up in front of the building, putting the car in park and turning my way. “I missed you, Lore.”

“I missed you too.” Pulling him into a hug over the middle console, I squeeze him tight.

My eyes burn slightly, and my body settles against his. It’s been a while since someone other than my aunts hugged me so tightly. Sometimes, I forget how starved I am for physical touch.

“Call you tomorrow? Send me your classes.” He unlocks the doors, and I push mine open.

“Yeah. I’ll send you my schedule,” I tell him, sliding off the front seat and dropping a couple of inches to the ground.

He smiles at me and offers a wave as I close the door and head inside.

When I cross the sidewalk and approach the dorm building, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched. It’s that sixth sense that makes the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

Nonchalantly scanning my surroundings, I don’t notice anyone, and I quickly make my way inside of the secure building, using my key fob to unlock the door.

That feeling begins to disappear as I slip inside one of the elevators.

I’m still uneasy, but as I reach my room and relieve June from watching Sunny, I feel much better.

Changing into PJs, I take my evening medicine before curling up with Sunny in bed to watch Legally Blonde , one of my favorite comfort movies. But I barely make it to the scene at the dress shop before my eyelids drift shut.