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)
“Cromwell, why—?”
“I said it’s not happening!”
Bonnie froze. I looked around the coffee shop and saw all eyes on me. I leaned in close. “I asked you to forget what you saw and not bring it up again.” I screwed up a napkin in my hand. “Why can’t you just do as I ask?” I had intended for my voice to be hard, to scare her away. Instead it was broken and raw.
“Because I’ve never heard anyone so talented in my entire life, Cromwell.”
Each one of her softly spoken words hit me like a missile, trying to tear down my protective wall. “Drop it,” I said. I felt my throat tighten, the leash pulling tightly.
The clearing of a throat broke the tension. I kept my eyes on Bonnie, seething, as Sam, the wanker with the coffeepot, asked her, “Everything okay, Bonn?”
“Yeah,” she said and smiled. My stomach squeezed again. It was the second time today I’d seen her smile. And neither time was at me.
That bothered me more than it should.
I could feel Sam eyeing me. “You going to the concert this weekend?” he said.
“Yeah,” she said. “You?”
“Gotta work. Oh, before I forget, Harvey wanted to speak to you.” Bonnie got up and followed Sam. I had no clue who Harvey was. I finished the last of my coffee and looked down at the sheet of manuscript paper that was still lying on the table, staring at me. My hand tapped on the table as I stared back at it. I glanced around the shop and saw Bonnie near an office, talking. I fought against the need to grab the pen, but in the end the need to amend the composition won out. I crossed out the notes she’d roughly penned and replaced them with ones that flowed better.
When I finished, I stared down at the sheet and quickly got to my feet. My heart slammed too quickly in my chest. I shouldn’t have touched it. But I had to write them down. The notes, the melodies. Everything.
I needed to leave. I meant to take the sheet with me and chuck it on the way out.
“Shit,” I said, hissing as I burst through the door and realized I’d left the music behind. I looked left and right, deciding where to go. But then a text came through my phone.
Suzy: You around now? My roommate’s out all day.
Through the window, I saw Bonnie walk back to the table and pick up the manuscript paper. My heart was in my mouth as her eyes scanned the pages. Her hand went to her chest, making mine tighten in response. Then she raised her eyes, scanning the coffee shop. I knew she was looking for me. My pulse raced and my feet itched to walk back in and work with her. To show her what her music had inspired in me. To show her where I’d take the piece. What instruments I’d use. How I’d conduct.
But the tether that held me back, the one that controlled me, that kept me from sharing anything, pulled tight, keeping me still. Keeping all my anger locked inside.
My phone buzzed again.
Suzy: ???
I looked up at Bonnie and saw her pretty face. Saw her eyes drinking in the notes I’d written. And I knew that it was her that was challenging the walls I’d kept around myself for the past three years.
And I had to let it go, or I wasn’t sure I’d be able to cope with what would spill out.
Me: Give me fifteen
I tucked my phone in my pocket, blocking everything out, and took off for campus before Bonnie found me again. I forced the numbness to take control and push Bonnie from my brain. But only a few yards down the road I saw a poster for the concert being held in the park this weekend. South Carolina Philharmonic. My jaw clenched as I fought the need to go and see it.
And Bonnie would be there. That was reason enough not to go. I had to keep her at a distance. To work with her only on the project. She’d seen too much of me already. Knew too many of my secrets.
I just had to get back to my mixes. And my high walls that kept everyone out.
That was all I had to do.
* * *
“You didn’t sign up.”
I sat in Lewis’s office. A grand piano sat in the corner. A vintage violin with aged cracked wood and a fragile bridge was displayed on his wall. A guitar sat in a stand and cello lay on its side against the far wall.
I pulled my eyes away when a sense of home flowed through me. I looked at all the pictures of him conducting and realized how young he’d been when he started out. I wondered if he’d always loved music. If it was in every breath he took too.