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)
“Why are you even here?” I got up from my seat and had to rub my chest when my heart thudded and flipped around from the frustration that was building inside me. “You don’t play instruments. You don’t care about composition. I’ve seen you in our other classes, and you seem to enjoy them as much as you do this one.” Now I was on a roll I couldn’t stop. I paced, but I had to stop and put my hands on my hips when a sudden anger stole my breath. “I’ve asked you to meet me three times this week. You said you couldn’t do any of them. Yet I know you’ve been going out with my brother, getting trashed and screwing half the female student body.”
Cromwell’s eyebrow rose. His lip kicked up into a ghost of a smile. It was a big mistake. It broke me. “I’ve heard you spin, Cromwell. Don’t forget that.” I laughed. What else was there to do? I could see my dreams for this year slipping away like sand in an hourglass. “I took a train to Brighton to watch you, and all I got was disappointment.” I grabbed my bag. “From what I can tell, you have no desire. No passion for music, and you’ve been squeezed onto an already full program for God knows what reason. I have no idea what Lewis sees in you, but whatever it is, he will be sorely disappointed when it fails to materialize.” I made sure he was looking right into my eyes. “I know I am.”
Calmer now that I’d exorcised my anger, I stood in front of him and said, “Meet me tonight at Jefferson Coffee. We can try to fix this and make sure we both get a passing grade. Meet me there at seven.”
I didn’t even stop to get a response. Nobody had ever gotten under my skin the way he did. I burst out into the warm day; the summer’s blistering weather was starting to gradually cool. I propped my hand against the wall and made myself breathe, moving only when I heard voices coming from behind me. Slowly, trying to calm my racing heart, I walked to my dorm and lay down on the bed. I closed my eyes, but all my brain wanted me to see was Cromwell.
I thought of the video I had seen of him all those years ago. Where had that boy gone? What had happened to him to make him lose his passion? The boy I had seen on the many clips I’d sought out over the years had all but died. He’d once played with such meaning, such purpose and soul. Now, everything about him was cold. He played music that meant nothing. Made me feel nothing. Told the world nothing.
And my dream of doing well in this course was now firmly in his hands.
* * *
“Another one, Bonn?” I looked up from staring out of the window to Sam, who was standing beside me with a nearly empty coffee carafe.
“No.” I gave him a tight smile. “I think I’ve been stood up…again.”
“Cromwell?”
“How did you guess?”
“Just a hunch.” Sam smiled. “At least you drink decaf. You’d be up all night if it was caffeinated.”
I smiled again, but I was sure he could see the sadness in my face. “I’ll just get my things and go. What time is it anyway?” A quick glance around the coffee shop showed me they were closing. Chairs were upside down on tables, and the floor was partially mopped. “I’m sorry, Sam. You should have told me sooner to go.”
“Not a problem. You seemed deep into your work. I didn’t wanna disturb you.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s eleven thirty, by the way. Just in case you were still wondering.”
I gave him another tight smile, then threw my bag over my shoulder. I pulled my sweater on. I was cold. And tired. I’d walked here from the dorm, needing the fresh air and exercise.
I made my way down Main Street and stopped when I passed Wood Knocks. It was the bar most people went to. They had a small club underneath when it hit midnight. If the Barn wasn’t on, then it was Wood Knocks that everyone went to. The dancing, cheap beer, and the casual attitude toward the mass of fake IDs were just a prelude to getting laid, really.
“Shots, motherfuckers!” I recognized my brother’s voice in an instant. I peered through the window and saw Easton standing on the table, his loud voice ricocheting off the walls. I couldn’t believe he was so drunk again. Just another thing that was worrying me. He was partying too much.
“Cromwell, get your ‘arse,’” he said in a terrible English accent, “here right now, boy!” He searched the crowd. “Where is he?”
A disbelieving laugh spilled from my lips. I walked away, leaving my brother searching the packed crowd, before I could see Cromwell’s face. If I did, I didn’t trust I wouldn’t make a fool of myself by storming in there and ripping into him for leaving me in that coffee shop for nearly five hours doing our joint work on my own.