He huffs, running his hand through his dreadlocks. They were in a bun the other days, and I hadn't realized how long theyare. All the way past his shoulders, which makes him look even more elegant.
Licking his lips, he looks down at his own desk and mumbles something I can't hear or read.
"Could you take responsibility for what you did and look at me when you explain?" I insist, frustrated with his sudden stupid shyness.
He turns to me again and repeats, "He took me aside at the end of the day while you were packing. I think you were so stressed about everyone seeing you play on the wrong side that you didn't realize we were two rows away, talking about you. He asked if I could do him a favor and get your number for him because he was too shy to ask."
I have to bite my tongue not to burst out with insults. Who is so clueless they look at Achilles Duval and believe the man isshy?
I cock an eyebrow at him, and he rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I know. I'm dumb."
"You know what? I think you wanted so desperately to get attention from your idol that you were willing to believe whatever fit your narrative." This rings with personal experience. I know, because I did the same thing and ended up with him practically choking me into unconsciousness.
"I'm sure you're best friends now that you gave him my number."
He lets the silence stretch between us before admitting, "He hasn't spoken to me since."
"No. I'm not surprised."
He chuckles. "Me neither."
A sigh leaves me as I watch the other students walk in and sit down.
"I'm sorry, Nyx. Everything I said was true. I think you're interesting and quite exceptional."
"It also happens that someone way more exceptional than me asked you to get my number for him."
His lopsided smile gets to me a little. Heissuper good at puppy eyes too.
"Whatever," I say. "We weren't even friends anyway. I was just so desperate for a friend in my class that I latched onto your fake kindness."
Rearing back a little, he puts a hand on his heart. "Ouch. But deserved. Can I try again?" He extends his hand toward me. "Hey, I'm Josh. I'm the soloist in our orchestra, and I think you should be friends with me because I'm kind of a big deal around here."
That makes me laugh, and I shake his hand, warming up to him. "I'm Nyx. I play violin in anexceptionalway, and I'm very selective as to who gets my phone number."
The class is harder than I thought, especially for me. First of all, because our professor clearly hasn't been made aware of my problem. He speaks in almost a whisper, keeps walking and talking, and I can never quite catch what he's saying. It's only when he starts playing the piano and gets us to write down in staff notation what he's playing that I finally get to do something easy.
I don't leave the building all day. I've got classes after classes, then eat the lunch I brought from home in an empty rehearsal room, and by the time I leave in the afternoon, I realize I haven’t looked outside a window today. It's pouring rain.
I shoot a quick text to Chase, asking if he's still picking me up, but after ten minutes of not getting an answer, I know something’s wrong. I decide to cross the woods to the castle, and then head to the visitors’ parking lot where he picked me up last time, in case he's waiting for me. I'm already drenched when he finally replies.
Chase: Can't.
Can't?
Can't?
Is he serious? I stupidly look around me through the battering rain to see if it's a joke.
It's not. The bastard knows I have no way of getting back to the North Shore on my own and without a car. No public transport from the South Bank ever goes to our side of the river, and it's not like I can afford a taxi.
"Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you," I rage to myself in the lot.
The rain is getting heavier, and my violin is going to get damaged if I don't make a decision, and fast. But I have to get home. I've got a shift at the diner this evening that I can't miss. I owed Colin to switch whenever he needed after he took my Saturday shift.
Walking it is. Here's to hoping the rain calms down.
Fuck, it's going to take me over an hour to get home.
