Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 124135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 621(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 621(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
I couldn’t get Cromwell out of my head. And worse, I knew I’d be seeing him on Monday. We were in most of the same classes. I was majoring in music. There had never been any other choice for me. I knew Cromwell was the same. Easton had told me.
I closed my eyes, but all I saw was him lounging on the passenger seat of my car, the Jack in his hand. Him smoking when I’d asked him not to. The tattoos and the piercings.
“Cromwell Dean, what happened to you?” I whispered into the night.
Reaching over to my cell, I brought up the video of the music that had been in my heart for so long and pressed play. As the string instruments danced and the wind section took the lead, I shut my eyes, and sleep found me.
I wondered if music like this would ever again find the heart of Cromwell Dean.
* * *
“Sis?” I turned around on my chair to see Easton entering my room.
“Well, hello,” I said. Easton dropped onto my bed. He ran his fingers over my guitar before putting it on the floor.
“Sorry about last night,” he said and met my eyes. “It was Crom’s first night on the decks and the place was insane. I got swept up in it all.” He shrugged. “You know me.”
“Yeah. I know you.” I moved to the small fridge in my room and handed him a soda.
“Sugar. Thanks, Bonn. You know how to cheer me up.”
“You know I don’t even drink that stuff. I have it here for your hangover emergencies.”
He winked at me. “Cromwell said you drove us home.” I nodded. “What do you think of him?”
I pushed his legs out of the way so I could sit beside him on the bed. “What do I think of him?”
“Yeah,” he asked and downed the soda. He got up and grabbed another before sitting back down. “I get he comes off rude. But I like the guy. Just don’t think he has many friends.”
“He just got here.”
“I mean in England too. No one ever calls him. I’ve seen a few texts, but he said they were from his mama.”
“He shouldn’t be so rude then, should he?”
“He was rude to you?”
“He was drunk,” I said, completely excluding the fact that he was a lot worse when I met him in Brighton.
Easton nodded. “You should have been there, Bonn. The guy is insanely talented. It’s like he just zones out and plays straight from his soul. And shit, he’s gonna be in your class, yeah? You’ll have to watch out for him.”
“I get the impression he doesn’t need anyone to watch out for him, East.”
“Even so.” He jumped off the bed and held out his hand. “Come on. Mama and Papa will be at the diner already.”
I took his hand and got off the bed. He looked at me, watching closely. “You okay? You seem tired. You’ve stayed in more than usual this summer.”
I rolled my eyes. “Easton, I am tired. I had to come get you after pulling an all-night study session.” I could feel my cheeks heat at the excuse. “I wanna impress Lewis on Monday, you know? To get someone like that here…” I shook my head. “It’s not every day someone with that talent becomes your teacher.”
Easton threw his arm around me. “You’re such a nerd.”
I pulled away from him and threw some Altoids in his direction. “Eat a few of those before we get to Mama and Papa. You smell like a liquor store.” Easton caught them and led us out of the door.
On Monday, classes would begin. I was pretty sure Cromwell Dean wouldn’t even look my way. And Easton had it way wrong. That guy didn’t need someone to watch out for him.
I was sure he’d only be a dick if I even tried.
Chapter Five
Bonnie
The class was buzzing. Last year, there had never been energy like this. The class was small, but I could feel everyone’s excitement as if I was standing in the center of a packed stadium.
My friend Bryce leaned over. “Weird, huh? How a professor can cause this much hype.”
He wasn’t just any professor though. Professor Lewis was a world-renowned composer. He’d traveled the world. Performed in concert halls and theaters that someone like me could only dream of. His personal struggles with drugs and alcohol were widely known. It’s what had taken him from his life’s work and back to Jefferson. His hometown. In an interview with the school paper, he’d said that he needed to be grounded in the place he knew best. Wanted to give back to his local community by taking tenure here.
The music world’s loss was our gain.
I tapped my pen in a seesaw motion on my open notebook. The door opened, and a man I’d seen countless times on TV walked through. The room was silent as he walked to the table at the front of the classroom. He was young. Younger in person than I’d expected. He had dark hair and a kind smile.