Текст книги "The Singles"
Автор книги: Emily Snow
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Текущая страница: 35 (всего у книги 45 страниц)
“How does this work?” I ask aloud, my voice breaking. “Do I tell you I miss you? I do ... but is that enough?” Burying my face in my hands, I shake my head.
“I’ve thought about you every time I close my eyes here lately. Owen Delane’s brother ... I see him now. Everyday.” Raking my hand through my hair, I release a painful laugh. I don’t say another word for several minutes and when I do, they tumble out one after the other in a raw, desperate whisper. “He doesn’t remember me, but I sure as hell remember him. He’s going to help me get everything back on track. I’m tired of screwing up.”
Over the next half an hour, I tell Lily as much as my voice will allow, realizing it’s the closest thing I’ll ever get to the girl in the red tracksuit sitting on the edge of my bed, telling me to wake up and stop being a lazy ass. By the time my phone rings and Kendra’s name scrolls across my screen, the corners of my eyes are wet.
“I’ll come back sooner next time,” I whisper, pushing myself to my feet. “I swear.”
***
With my parents off on their weekend getaway, and Kendra leaving to go back to school on Sunday because of cross-country conditioning, I cut my trip a day short and drive back to Richmond on Sunday morning.
The hall I live on is eerily quiet, with only a few people around. Neither my roommate, who went to Farmville with some girls from one of her classes, nor my suitemates are back yet, and I don’t expect to see them until tomorrow night. I text Nathan inviting him to dinner, and he tells me he’ll meet me at the D-hall in an hour after he finishes practicing for the upcoming sight singing test. Since I haven’t even begun to prepare for it, I begrudgingly gather my textbooks and make the walk over to the music department.
I can hear Nathan’s powerful tenor voice as I pass by practice room three, and my lips move into a smile. I resist the urge to interrupt him. Because the campus is so empty right now, I assume the room next door is available, so when I open it to see Rhys Delane of all people behind the piano, scribbling on a blank sheet of staff paper, I freeze in the doorway.
His playing comes to a sudden halt, and he turns those amazing blue-green eyes on me, his expression just as stunned as mine. Although he’s been freshly shaven every time I’ve seen him the last couple weeks, he’s got that sexy, shadowy thing going again—the same way he looked when we first met.
“Your lesson isn’t until Tuesday. So why are you here, Evelyn?”
Chapter Eight
My eyes fall to his full lips as they move, and I immediately wonder how he kisses. Is it slow? Each flick of his tongue torturous, each movement of his body carefully orchestrated. Or is it desperate? Hard and fast, rough.
Biting my tongue, I lift my eyes until they’re level with his.
“I—” Though I should turn around and leave, I take a step inside and hold up my Sight Singing and Dictation books and the frayed sheet music I’ve been going over with Professor Cameron. “I came to practice for next week,” I admit. When his lips part in a silent “ah,” I move closer, until the edge of the piano is jabbing against the side of my body. “I thought you’d be gone all weekend.”
His lips press into a thin line, and I jump when he palms several bass keys. “It didn’t work out. What about you?”
I shouldn’t—God, I know I shouldn’t—but I wonder if his issue is female-related. The thought of it being so makes me a little jealous. “I only left to see my best friend and she had to go back today, so here I am.”
“To practice.” His lips move into a smile that gives me heart palpitations. “You can always go to another room. Or wait until I’m done with this one.” Then, a little softer, he says, “Or I can give you that first lesson.”
The way he says “lesson” pulls my eyes back up to his. From where I’m standing, I take in the sight of him, from the top of his off-black hair to his plain white t-shirt to his jeans. I look at him, and no matter how wrong it is—especially after going home this weekend—there’s no denying that Rhys Delane has some kind of effect on me. And it’s powerful, at that.
When I don’t answer, he stands up and reaches for my books and music, which I quietly hand over to him.
I glance back at the clipboard by the door. “Do I have to sign in?” I whisper as he plays the key my first piece is in.
He shakes his head. “Not tonight.”
***
“You’re going flat again, Evelyn,” Rhys interrupts me two days later, on Tuesday, as we have our first official lesson. When I don’t immediately stop singing, he scoots the piano bench around just a little so that I have a clear view of him. He leans forward to rest his forearms on his knees. I look at him, from the khaki-colored pants to the black Polo shirt that keeps drawing my attention to his broad shoulders and chest and up to his blue-green eyes, which at the moment, are zeroed in on me.
If I thought Professor Cameron was bad about stopping me mid-measure, Rhys Delane is that much harder. We’ve been together for the last twenty minutes and after he had me do a warm-up, he immediately asked me to pull out “Florian’s Song,” even though I’ve never looked at that particular song before today. The first time he stopped me, I’d only been able to sing through the first four measures. This time, I at least made it to the second page of sheet music, but that’s not saying much.
“You know, maybe I’d be able to get through the damn thing if you didn’t keep telling me that.”
“I’d rather you get through it right then at all.”
Already, I’m starting to question any sanity I might have had when I made the decision to put aside my apprehension to work with Rhys. The nearly forty-five minutes we spent in here on Sunday night had lulled me into a false sense of security. Irritated, I shove my hands in the front pockets of my shorts, rock back on my heels, and glare at the bottom of the black music stand for a moment before lifting my narrowed eyes at him. “Alright, we’ve got another ten minutes, let’s do this—” My words catch when he abruptly stands up, his full lips twisted to the side as he examines me closely. “Why the hell are you looking at me like that?”
“I want you to try something for me,” he says. I shift my eyebrow, so he moves in close to me. My body is instantly aware of him, and goose bumps pucker across my skin. Since he’s a few inches taller than my five-foot-eight, I tilt my head back to search his gaze. He points to the knit black beanie holding in my mess of wavy chestnut hair.
“Take the hat off.”
“What? No.” At his insistent nod, I demand, “Why?”
“Because you’re hiding beneath it.”
“Told you, I’m having a—” I gasp when his fingers skim the sides of my face as he carefully plucks the hat off my head. Before I can protest, he shoves the cap in the back pocket of his khaki pants and starts to walk backwards.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I snap.
“What’s the deal with the hats? You’ve got one for every day.”
“There’s no deal, it’s called frizzy hair,” I shout, trying to reach around him, but he effortlessly blocks my hands. Straightening my back angrily, I run my hands self-consciously through my long strands of hair, my fingers shaking violently. Who the hell does Rhys think he is?
“You had no right to touch me.”
Dragging the piano bench back to its usual spot, he sits down and readjusts his sheet music. “Start from measure one,” he orders, like he didn’t just come over to me and physically remove an article of my clothing. To be honest, I’m still so stunned that I find myself touching my hatless head again just to make sure it actually happened.
When he plays the key the song is in, I give my head a jerky shake and cross my arms tightly over my chest. “You’re going to give me my shit back.”
I’m not the least bit surprised that he ignores my request. “I’ve noticed something about you.” Staring directly at the sheet music, he plays the first chord of “Florian’s Song.”
I release an exasperated noise, and his long fingers spread to play the second and then the third chord. “What would that be?”
“You hide behind all those hats. I was gonna say something about the one you had on Sunday—the red fedora-looking thing—but you showing up here caught me off guard.”
The red fedora-looking thing. Now, I’m caught off guard that he even remembers what I was wearing two days ago. Swallowing the lump that’s pushing its way to the back of my throat, I force myself to focus on the issue at hand. “You still had no right to touch me,” I say again.
“I’m not going to apologize, if that’s what you’re waiting for.” Playing the next few chords, he skims his stunning eyes over the length of my body, from the toes of my black flats to the tiny strip of skin exposed between my skinny jeans and pale pink t-shirt and finally to my face, where he stares into my dark brown eyes.
“You sure are cocky, Rhys.”
“I think you’re more pissed at me taking away your security blanket than the fact I touched you. Here’s my issue with all your fucking hats: If you’re hiding behind them, you’re uncomfortable. If you’re uncomfortable, we get nowhere. Now we can finish.”
Once again, he’s rendered me speechless, and I make a little noise in the back of my throat as I stalk back over to the music stand. He plays the key again, before saying, “You can do this.”
I have to grip the edges of the stand, I’m shaking so much as I power through the piece. I know I don’t nail it—even I can hear all the notes I struggle with—but to my surprise, he doesn’t stop me like before. With my chest heaving up and down, I walk over to the side of the piano. Rhys gives me that look again, the one that feathers over my body and does something warm and uncomfortable to me beneath my skin.
“Happy?” I breathe, glaring down at him.
He pushes his face close to mine, and his lips carefully curl into a cocky grin. It makes me sick to my stomach that I find the way he’s looking at me so tempting.
“It’s a start. But you’re mine for five more minutes.”
I keep a close eye on the clock hanging on the far side of the room, and as soon as our thirty-minute session is up, I all but race toward the door. I need to get away from him. If I don’t, I’ll end up saying or doing something I regret. His voice stops me before I can stumble out into the hallway, reverberating against my skin.
“To have made such a big deal about it, you’re quick to forget it.”
I spin around to see him approaching me with the beanie. He holds his hands out to me, like he’s presenting me with a peace offering. When I don’t move to take it, he takes it upon himself to return it to the exact place he got it. Closing my eyes, I hold my breath as he tucks my hair beneath the soft fabric.
I know this is wrong. And it’s wrong on more than one level. Not only is Rhys technically my teacher and also the brother of the man who killed my sister, but I also know very little about him besides those two things. They should be enough to send me running in the other direction, and yet here I am, with my back against the wall and the rough pads of his thumbs brushing my temples just before he drops his hands by his side.
“So it’s not that I touched you?” he muses, and before I can stop myself, I move my head in a negative motion. “Why do you wear them? What are you hiding from?”
“Myself.” From you. Hats became my thing a few months after Lily died. I open my eyes to see him staring at me thoughtfully. “See you Wednesday.”
I’m in such a hurry to get away from the music building that I nearly run right past Mac. She’s outside on one of the benches, her phone positioned between her ear and the crook of her neck as she jots something down in a little notebook. As soon as she spots me, she waves me down.
“One sec,” she mouths, holding up a finger. I cast a wary glance at the front doors of the building, but I nod and stick around as she says goodbye to whomever she’s talking to.
When she’s done, she bounds over to me, the wide smile that stretches across her face revealing shallow dimples. “Thanks for waiting—my little brother talks my damn ear off. I was going to send you a text, but this is even better.” At the questioning look I give her, she quickly adds, “What are you doing this Thursday night?”
Out the corner of my eye, I see the door to the building begin to open. Not wanting to face Rhys, I gesture for her to walk with me, and I take off. After a few steps, Mac catches up to me.
“Let me guess. Just got out of a lesson with Professor Cameron?” When I don’t confirm or deny, she laughs. “I run the hell away from the building after spending thirty minutes with that woman, too. Of course, I’m usually bleeding by then because her talons have ripped my soul out.”
I almost want to tell her that compared to Rhys, dealing with Professor Cameron is a breeze. I can deal with her scrutiny a lot easier than Rhys’.
“No, I’m just hungry,” I lie. Moving my legs a little faster in the general direction of the main courtyard, I dip my gaze to hers, anxious to change the subject. “What’s going on Thursday?”
“Red Denial is playing at Ippy’s, and I was wondering if you wanted to come with me. They’re this little band, but they’re really, really good.” While I’ve yet to go to Ippy’s, a little bar that’s a few miles from campus, I’ve heard from both Nathan and Mac that the entertainment is usually amazing. I must be silent for too long because she tucks a strand of her short golden hair behind her ear and lifts her shoulders in a shrug. “I just remember you saying you’re big on Fuel, so I figured you’d like them. If you don’t have time, I understand, but know that I will definitely kidnap your ass to go to one of their shows at some point this year.”
“No, you’re right. I’d love to go.”
Clapping her hands in excitement, Mac gives me a thumbs up. “Yay! A few of my friends are tagging along, as long as you don’t mind.” When I shake my head, she promises to text me what time the show starts, and we make plans to meet at the bar Thursday night.
“Awesome,” Mac beams at me before taking off. “Trust me, you’re going to love them.”
Chapter Nine
Two nights later, though, I definitely don’t love the fact that Corinne has invited herself to go with me to the show. It wouldn’t be so bad if she hasn’t spent most of the night pre-gaming in one of her friend’s room for some party she plans to go to at Baseball House immediately after. There’s a part of me that wants to tell her no when she comes into our room to find me getting ready, but when she shoots me a pleading look, her green eyes hopeful, I know I’ll feel like a jerk all night if I shoot her down.
“We never do anything like this together,” she says excitedly as we walk to the freshman parking lot to find my car. “You should come out with me after this is all over with, too.”
Searching my purse for my keys, I shake my head. “Trust me, I’m like the walking dead if I stay out too late on Thursday nights.” When her face crumbles in disappointment, I tell her, “Maybe this weekend, though?”
She seems pleased with this response as she scoots into the passenger seat of my car. All the way to Ippy’s, she talks about nothing but Daniel and the baseball team. I want to roll my eyes, but for some reason, this feels like déjà vu as I make the three-mile drive.
If I close my eyes so I don’t see Corinne’s curly red and brown hair and green eyes, and pretend like her voice is just a touch deeper, I don’t feel like I’m talking to a girl I barely know at all but to one I’m very much familiar with.
The Evie Miller from just a year ago.
And that scares me more than I ever thought imaginable.
I’m biting the inside of my cheek by the time I find a parking spot—about a block up from Ippy’s on the street—and as I search the ashtray for quarters for the meter, I carefully ask Corinne, “So, you and Daniel—are y’all serious?”
I try to remember the last time I’ve seen him come around our suite, but to be honest, I’ve been so busy with all things music related that I can’t recall seeing him lately.
Shaking her head, she shuts her door and comes around to join me on the sidewalk. “No, we’re just friends.” She produces a water bottle out of her giant purse, and makes a face as she takes a swig of whatever is actually inside it. Oh yes, this is definitely déjà vu. Giving me a suggestive grin, she loops her arm through mine and pulls me in the direction of the bar. “But, God, you should see him without his shirt on.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
We walk to the back of the line formed outside of Ippy’s, Corinne hobbling on another pair of her scary heels and me in my flat ankle boots.
While we wait behind a couple girls who are talking so loud I have to lean in to hear Corinne, my roommate informs me, “You look hot tonight, by the way. No wonder that redheaded guy is always coming around.”
She must be talking about Nathan. After I assure her that he and I are nothing but friends, and that I have no idea what he looks like without his shirt on, I smile and say, “But thanks. So do you.” Since this is the first time I’ve really gone out since that first night, I put a little extra effort in my appearance. At any moment the weather is going to take a turn for the worse, so tonight I’m taking advantage of a cute fit-and-flare dress I bought during the summer. It’s cream-colored and lacy, hugging my body in all the right places and showcasing my long legs.
I’d fully planned on wearing one of my customary hats, but when I started to slide one on, something stopped me. For a few minutes, I stared into my mirror, hearing Rhys’ words echo around my brain about hiding, and ended up tossing the floppy beret back onto the top of my closet.
Before we reach the front of the line to get our hands stamped, I grab Corinne’s shoulder and turn her slightly toward me. “Look, I don’t want to be a buzzkill, but you might want to throw out that water bottle. They might not let us in if they check your bag and think you’ll be drinking.”
I can vividly recall a time last year when I managed to sneak my own bottle full of vodka into an on-campus concert. Although my group was walking and nowhere near the wheel of a car, it hadn’t stopped the campus police from stopping us on the way back to our dorms late that night—something about making too much noise—and I’d received the first of my three underage drinking violations.
Corinne stares at me dumbfounded for a second, but then her springy curls move around her face as she nods in understanding. When we pass by a large trashcan that’s nearly overflowing with fast food wrappers and energy drink cans, she tosses the half-full bottle on the top.
After I pay both our cover charges, we push our way inside the bar. It’s nearly filled to capacity, which immediately speaks volumes for the band’s popularity. I spot Mac easily thanks to her high, stubby blond ponytail and the fact that she’s standing up scanning the crowd for me. She introduces Corinne and me to her three friends, two of whom I recognize from Ensemble Choir, but there’s no Eli in sight.
“Is he coming?” I ask as I sit beside her at the round table. She shakes her head and grabs a chip from the giant nacho appetizer parked in front of her.
“They’ve got some Thirsty Thursday party going on there tonight, so he begged off.” Leaning in to me, she tells me in a conspiratorial whisper, “But between us, he thinks the guitar player sucks. That’s how we met, by the way. In a camp for gifted musicians—he played guitar, I sang arias. It was awkward lust at first sight.” She pushes her plate of nachos toward Corinne and me, and my roommate grabs a few as Mac continues, “I think he’s just being an elitist asshole about the guitar thing, though.”
Corinne holds a napkin over her mouth to hide her chewing. “How long have you two been together?”
Mac pretends to think but I can tell from the way she smiles that she has her dates memorized like the back of her hand. “Since the start of my junior year of high school and his senior year, so a little over four years.” A second later when a tall girl with the brightest red hair I’ve ever seen bounces over to our table to talk to Corinne, stealing my roommate away only a moment after that, Mac lifts her eyebrow. “She’s dating that one guy on the team, right?” I watch her eyes roll up as she tries to remember Daniel’s name.
“They’re friends.” When she gives me a slow nod, I cast a quick glance at her friends who are currently engrossed in something one of them is showing off on her phone before scooting in closer to her. “This is purely me being curious but since Eli’s a baseball player ...”
“Oh, I’m all over it. There are way too many jerks on that team for me to let that girl get screwed over. I had my heart ripped out by a douche master before Eli and I started dating, so I don’t stand for that crap.” When I shoot her a grateful smile, she gives my hand a hard pump. “I’d do the same thing for you.”
With that said, we spend the next few minutes talking about music before the band comes on stage. As soon as they play the opening number of their set, I can quickly see why Mac was so insistent on me coming. The talent pulsating from them is undeniable, and I watch transfixed as the guitarist—who turns out to be a gorgeous strawberry blonde with boobs that somehow make me feel inadequate with my small C-cups—scans the crowd, her gaze turning sultry as she rakes it across the very back of the room.
Turning in my seat, I follow her eyes. My breath catches when I take in a very familiar, very infuriating, face that’s currently in the middle of pouring drinks behind the bar. Rhys Delane is officially everywhere for me.
“He works here?” I blurt out, causing Mac’s eyebrow to shoot up. Turning around a little, she gives him a onceover before returning her focus to Red Denial.
“Yep, I wasn’t sure he was working tonight because I didn’t see him when I came in.” Pointing at the stage, she looks at me out the corner of her brown eyes. “Before he was sucked in by the dark side known as Hilary Cameron, he used to front the band during my freshman year. Now I’m going to sound like the elitist ass, but I think he was better. Way better. Plus it doesn’t hurt that he’s—well, sexy.”
I steal another glance in his direction, feeling a little pang in my chest as I watch him wink at some girl who’s practically throwing herself on top of the bar. “Why’d he quit?”
The second she answers me, I immediately regret the decision. “Some big family emergency. I don’t know the details, but I remember that all the shows were cancelled for a couple months while they found a replacement.”
Tight knots form in the bottom of my belly because I already know that his family emergency is the same thing that ripped my family apart. Clenching my fists in my lap beneath the table, I tell myself not to think about that. I came out tonight to have a good time, not to let myself be beaten down by thoughts of the past. I close my eyes for a second and when I open them, Mac regards me with a curious smile on her face.
“Cari’s”—She nods to the guitarist, who’s now focused intently on her instrument—“his ex, in case you’re wondering.”
Well that sure as hell explains why she was eye-humping him a couple minutes ago. Pretending to be indifferent, I shrug. “I don’t wonder.” Still, I can feel my skin heat up as I mutter the words.
“I just figured since you keep looking back at him. And because I, you know, saw your name on the Tuesday sign in sheet for the practice room I usually use and kind of figured he was the reason you were—” Her voice trails off at the sight of my wide eyes, and she quickly holds up her thin fingers defensively. “Look, I wasn’t spying. Like I said, I practiced in there yesterday and when I saw your names I automatically assumed he was the reason you were so worked up the other day.”
“Or maybe it’s because he busts my ass every time we have a lesson.” I don’t add that at the moment, there have only been two official lessons, because Corinne comes back to the table. Instead of sitting, she leans over me, her slinky V-neck top riding down and showing me so much boob that I can’t help but reach out and adjust it.
She giggles. “Hey, I’m going over to Baseball House with Ella.” She points and I follow her finger over to the girl she’d disappeared with ten minutes ago. “If you decide to come, send me a text, okay?”
I have no intention of going to Baseball House, but I quickly say, “If you need a ride home, call me, okay? I don’t care how late it is.”
“Or I can do it,” Mac speaks up beside me. She gives my roommate a stern look. “I’ll be over there a little later, so just find me if you need anything.”
As soon as Corinne promises she will and she leaves, I tell Mac, “Thanks. Seriously.”
She waves it off. “God, of course. The campus cops are dicks, and I’d hate for her to get one of their gross tickets. Speaking from firsthand experience here.”
At the sound of the band taking a break, Mac flicks her tongue over her teeth. “I’ve got to use the bathroom, so can you grab me a virgin ... you know what, surprise me?” She doesn’t give me time to protest as she slips ten bucks in my hand and shoves her way through the crowd.
I consider keeping my ass exactly where it is and making her get her own drink upon her return, but finally, I release a relenting sigh and push away from our table. Rhys is busy taking another drink order when I slide on one of the bar stools, so I wait patiently, tapping my fingers on the countertop in sync with The Black Keys song the house DJ is playing.
“Bored?” the guy on the stool beside me asks, and I shake my head, keeping my gaze straight ahead. “You at least going to look at me?”
A sound of exasperation escapes the back of my throat, and I turn my eyes up to the ceiling before I look at him out the corner of my eye. He’s good-looking enough—but so are so many other guys on this campus—and I’m in no mood for chitchat right now. “I’m seventeen,” I lie, but from the way he blatantly checks me out, I don’t think he cares.
“And they let you in?” When I lift my shoulders a little, he laughs. “What’s your name, beautiful?”
I plaster on a smile. “Statutory.” I glare ahead at Rhys’ back, wishing he’d hurry up so I can get back to my table, but the guy beside me pushes his face close to mine.
“Well fuck you too,” he sneers.
“Hey!” Rhys’ smooth voice snaps my gaze up. Those eyes that seem to pierce right through me every time I’m around him are stabbing daggers into the guy to my right. “You hassle my customers, you get out.” As the guy slaps his money down and takes off in a huff, Rhys tells me, “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.”
“Sorry about that, he’s—” But then he finally looks at me, and he swallows the rest of his words. As he collects the money from the bar top, he shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut. “Of all the people ...”
Clasping my hands together, I nod in agreement. “Same thing I said when I saw you were bartending.”
He touches my hand, examining the bold black X on the back of my left one, and smirks. “What can I get you, Evelyn?”
“Something sweet and virgin.”
“Sweet and virgin?” he drawls, and a grin that’s way too sensual crawls across his face. Warning bells go off in my head, but I ignore them as I give him a smile that I know is a mistake. “And here I was thinking you’d try to talk me into something else.”
“It’s for Mac.”
He drags his stare from me for a moment to search the crowd until he spots her. “You should tell Mackenzie she should fetch her own drinks,” he advises, filling a glass with ice. A couple minutes later, he slides something that smells fruity and delicious in front of me. Even though he’s busy as hell, he bends over the bar until our faces are close to each other. “Will I be seeing you tomorrow?”
I flick my tongue over my lips, an automatic reaction that draws his attention to my mouth. “Are you going to be a dick?”
Tugging his bottom lip between his teeth, he looks at me long and hard before tossing his head back to laugh. It’s a sound that warms my skin. “Always.” He takes Mac’s money and quickly gives me change, but as I slide off the bar stool, he stops me.
“No hat tonight,” he muses.
I lift my shoulders. “Couldn’t find any to go with the dress.”
“Start doing that more often,” he tells me gently, the words more of an order than a request.
Despite my olive complexion, I’m pretty sure I’m as red as her drink as I plunk it down in front of Mac and sit beside her. Taking a sip, she closes her eyes and releases a moan. “Ahh, so good. Drinks like this don’t even make me miss alcohol.” She holds it in my direction in offering, but I quickly decline. “Rhys didn’t give you a hard time, did he?”
“No,” I say almost too fast.
Before she turns around to watch the band as they come back on stage, she gives me a smile that tells me she thinks I’m full of crap. “Of course he didn’t.”
