Page 12 of Symphony for Lies (Tangled Truths #2)

I pressed a hand to my chest to calm my racing heartbeat. It had to be my imagination. There was no way the wind chimes sounded similar to Tristan’s composition. It was impossible.

My thoughts spun so fast I didn’t even notice when Tristan finished. It wasn’t until my grandmother jumped to her feet to applaud that I snapped out of my dazed musings.

I quickly joined in, clapping along with the rest of the hall.

My legs wobbled slightly as I stood up, and I took a few deep breaths, trying to steady myself.

I forced my emotions down and tried to play it cool, but my hands didn’t have the strength to clap as loudly as I wanted to.

When I looked up, Tristan’s hopeful gaze, filled with something gentle and warm, was on me.

I tried to smile back at him, but I was afraid it came across as too stiff. So, I grabbed the bouquet from my seat and held it up, using it as an excuse to hide my mouth.

Tristan lifted his hand slightly, signaling me to wait a moment.

All the musicians, except for Zane, returned to the stage for a final bow, and applause echoed through the hall.

My grandmother was exceptionally loud; she certainly loved the performance. “My dear, wait here. I need to touch up.” She squeezed past me in a hurry, disappearing into the crowd as people started for the exits.

I sat back down, staring at the stage.

The piano was the only thing left on it.

The hum of conversations faded as I spotted Tristan heading straight for me.With every step he took, my heartbeat kicked up a notch.

I stood up, my eyes scanning his handsome face.A few beads of sweat still clung to his forehead, making his skin glisten faintly under the lights.

“It’s good to see you, Amelia,” he greeted with quiet excitement.“I hope you liked my piece.” His blue eyes shimmered.

I swallowed down the unease in my chest and forced everything else out of my mind, giving him a gentle, sincere smile.

I held out the bouquet. “It was beautiful.”

He accepted my gift, his fingers brushing lightly against mine. “That makes me happy.” Taking hold of my hand, he effortlessly lifted it to his lips, kissing my skin softly.

A faint shiver ran through me, and warmth bloomed where his mouth had touched.

“For the first time in a long while…” he murmured. “…I actually felt nervous tonight.” Something vulnerable and honest lingered behind his eyes. “Thank you for coming.”

My heart—

“Excuse me! Let me through!” My grandmother suddenly pushed herself between us, breaking us apart without hesitation.

My face instantly flamed with embarrassment.

Tristan cleared his throat, shifting his hand behind his back like he’d been caught doing something scandalous.

Whatever had been building between us, whatever feeling had been creeping up on me, popped like a soap bubble. Or rather, it was forcefully burst.

“Nice to see you again, madame,” Tristan greeted after a beat of awkward silence.

“Your performance was beautiful. I really enjoyed it,” my grandmother stated, her tone polite but clipped.

“Thank you.” Tristan’s expression softened. “That means a lot coming from you.” He looked genuinely pleased.

“Hmph.” My grandma crossed her arms. “Listen, young man, I’m too old for you to flirt with me.”

My jaw dropped slightly, and I covered my mouth, trying hard not to burst out laughing.

Tristan’s eyes widened in surprise, his posture stiffening slightly.

I was seconds away from losing it.

A deep chuckle rumbled behind us.“Interesting.”

Slowly, I turned around, and there he was.

Zane. With his black shirt unbuttoned just enough to show a hint of bare skin and his jacket slung lazily over his shoulder, he looked relaxed.

But his eyes were fixed on me so intensely, so shamelessly, that I felt a tingling sensation run down my skin.

The fine hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

Beside me, Tristan’s expression hardened, but Zane ignored him completely, opting to focus solely on me like I was a puzzle he intended to solve.

He leaned in slightly, just enough for his scent to reach me. Dark, spicy sandalwood and something that reminded me of rain.

My grandmother glanced between Zane and Tristan, raising a single brow. Even I was caught off guard by his presence.

“Did you enjoy my performance?” Zane asked Grandma, like it was the most natural thing in the world, as if they’d known each other for years.

“Yes… your composition was also beautiful,” she answered in a deliberately dry tone.

He flashed a heart-stealing smile, one so dangerously charming that I swore, for just a split second, it almost cracked her tough exterior.Almost. But she quickly averted her gaze, digging into her handbag as if she suddenly had something urgent to look for.

“And what about you, tutor?” Zane’s voice had dropped a note lower, making his words almost playful.“Did you get me some flowers, too?”

Why did that question feel dangerous?

I sighed. My thoughts were still trying to catch up. “Your performance was wonderful,” I answered after a brief moment.

His gaze shifted just for a fraction of a second. Something flickered in his eyes, surprise, maybe? But it was gone before I could fully grasp it.

Then he took a step closer.

Not by very much, but he got close enough that I knew I should step back.

I didn’t.

I don’t know why. Perhaps it was out of stubbornness. Or maybe my body didn’t know whether to retreat or lean in.

“Hmm…” Zane exhaled softly, giving me a conspiratorial smirk. “I’ll forgive you for not bringing me flowers this time.”

My lips parted slightly.

“But next time… I expect them.”

My heart skipped a beat.

And just in time, my grandmother snapped her head up.“Excuse me?”

Zane let out a quiet laugh, smooth and rich like velvet. “Relax. I was just joking.”

Was he?It didn’t seem like it, though.

My grandmother narrowed her eyes, studying him with suspicion.

His presence unsettled me as his gaze lingered on mine like he could etch his name into my skin. It felt like he had just taken something without me realizing it.

My eyes widened slightly; the moment I’d shared with Tristan was gone like it never existed.

He stared at the ground, his entire posture rigid.

“Tristan,” I called his name gently. His head snapped up, and I rested my hand lightly on his shoulder, a silent reassurance. He looked so defeated, and it twisted something in my chest.“I truly loved your piece. It means a lot that you dedicated it to me. And thank you again for the tickets.”

“Yes, thank you for the tickets,” my grandmother added, this time with a genuine smile.

A faint smile touched Tristan’s lips in return, but the tension in his frame remained.“It was my pleasure. I hope you’ll come to my next performance.”

I nodded, and my grandmother hooked her arm through mine.“We should get going,” she murmured.

I still had my hand on Tristan’s shoulder, trying to ease whatever storm was brewing inside him, whenfingers brushed against mine.

Zane’s.

His touch was deliberate, unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world, and with effortless ease, he lifted my hand to his warm lips.

A single breath. A single moment where everything else faded.

My body froze.

It wasn’t a long kiss. Not forceful. Not demanding.

But it burned. It branded me.

His eyes never left mine, as if he was waiting for me to break.

I yanked my hand back, rubbing it against my sleeve to try to erase the sensation.

But the tingling remained.

“What the hell was that?” I snapped.

Zane tilted his head slightly, his smirk deepening at my reaction.“I thought that’s how you liked to be greeted.” His gaze flicked toward Tristan. “That’s how he does it, right?”

Oh my God .

I gaped at him, totally speechless.

Tristan’s jaw tightened as his anger radiated off him in waves. But Zane? He barely acknowledged it.

Instead, his gaze flicked back to me just in time to catch my glare.

I turned away sharply, grabbing my grandmother and pulling her with me before he could say anything else.She barely managed to keep up, staring back at Zane like she was in a trance.

As we walked, I caught a glimpse of Mrs. Cole.Her cold, unyielding stare wasn’t on Zane. It was on me.

My blood froze.

What was that?

The tension, an unsettling weight, pressed against my ribs. I didn’t like it. Not one bit.

Stepping into the crisp night air, the cool breeze soothed the heat clinging to my skin.

My grandmother broke her silence when we finally got in a waiting taxi.“Ha! I knew it! Zane’s got his eyes on you!”

“Grandma,” I groaned.

“You can’t fool me. Anyone who says otherwise is a liar!”

I sighed, letting my head fall back against the seat.

“Listen to me, sweetheart. I don’t like Tristan.”

I blinked, caught off guard.That was… random.

“He might have a thing for you, but if he doesn’t have the guts to make the first move, he’s not worth your time.”

“We’re just friends.”

She scoffed, “Please. Everyone knows he’s in love with you. And yet, he still hasn’t done anything after all this time? He’ll stay hopeless. You deserve someone who’ll fight for you.”

“I don’t want him! Honestly, I don’t want anyone,” I shot back.

“We’ll see about that.”

I leaned into her warmth, wrapping my arms around her.“I just want to stay with you. I don’t need a relationship.”

Grandma’s arms tightened around me. “Love will find you anyway, Amelia.”

I said nothing because I knew she was wrong.

When we arrived home, my grandmother went straight to bed while I sat at my desk, my mind spinning with thoughts.

I couldn’t understand Zane.

And even more so, I couldn’t understand my own reaction to him. My hand still tingled, like his lips had left a mark on my skin.

I took a shower, but it was still there.

It was confusing.

“It was just a peck. What the hell is wrong with me?” For the hundredth time, I rubbed the back of my hand against the sleeve of my sweater.

Annoyed, I grabbed a pen and a sheet of paper, trying to distract myself.

I wrote down the melody Tristan had played, and my mind drifted to the past. To the days when Mr. Watson was still teaching us. Back then, we used it often, writing secret messages on music sheets.

The notes in Tristan’s sequence formed a beautiful phrase.

Be happy and live free.

My lips pressed into a thin line, and I almost instinctively compared it to the melody from the pavilion.

The realization left a bitter taste in my mouth.

“I should be ashamed of myself,” I murmured softly, running my fingers over the message.

Maybe… maybe it was just the stress of the past few days messing with my head.

With a deep sigh, I got up and collapsed onto my bed.

And I didn’t dream for the first time in what felt like forever.