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)
Prick, I thought as I slammed his office door shut. I was about to turn left to the main exit, but my head turned to the right, toward the sound of a string orchestra. I wandered down the corridor. It was an alternate way out of the building. I let myself believe that as I stopped at the door of the orchestra’s practice room. I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.
As the cello took the lead, I let down my walls for a second and let the sound wash over me. A peace I hadn’t felt in years settled through me. I stayed listening as they played Pachelbel’s Canon in D. It wasn’t the hardest piece, and they weren’t the best. But that didn’t matter. It was the fact that it was being played that did.
And I was listening. I saw magenta and salmon-pink hexagons as the cello played. Then starbursts of peach and cream, flickered shards of mauve and rose as the violins took the melody. I tasted floral on my tongue and felt my chest pull tight, my stomach building with light as the strings danced and sang.
As the piece finished, I opened my eyes, breathless, and pushed myself off the doorframe. I looked to my left. Lewis was at his door, watching me. A surge of anger lit me up that he was there, seeing me, I rushed out of the building and walked to my dorm. The minute I entered my room, the smell of paint smacked me in the face.
“Shit.” I threw my bag on my bed.
Easton turned from the canvas he was painting on. “Top of the morning to ya.”
I shook my head. “Dick. I’m not Irish. I’m English.” I slumped on my bed, but the minute I did I was restless. Bastard Lewis messing with my head. Bonnie Farraday and her hand on her chest as she read my music was etched into my brain. But not as much as the imprint of her hand on my arm was from last Friday night.
They were pushing and pushing me to breaking point, and I couldn’t friggin’ stand it.
“There’s a difference?”
I rolled my eyes and jumped back off the bed. I looked at the painting he’d done. There was color everywhere. It was blinding. Like Jackson Pollock on crack. “Jesus, East. What the hell is that?”
He laughed and put down his paints. He was covered. He spread his arms wide. “It’s me! How I’m feeling on this fine sunny day.” He came closer. “It’s the weekend, Crom. The world is ours!”
“Tone it down.” I stared at my mixing table and realized that I had bugger all desire to create new mixes right now. “Let’s go get food. I need to get off this campus.”
“I like your style.”
We walked out of the dorm and headed to Main Street. Of course.
“Your mama’s been emailing again,” Easton said as we headed to Wood Knocks. I looked at him, my eyebrows pulled down. He held up his hands. “You left your laptop open. Kept coming on every time she messaged you.”
“Great,” I muttered.
“Got a new stepdaddy, huh?” I gave Easton the side-eye. “Saw it on the subject line.” He smirked. “It’s his birthday near Christmas. She wanted to know if you were going home to celebrate.” I stopped walking and stared at Easton. “Fine!” he said. “That’s all I read. Promise.” He winked at me and smiled.
The answer to that would be a huge no. I wouldn’t be going home for Christmas. Just thinking of her new husband in my dad’s home tore me apart. I was staying far away.
We walked past the park. There were lights and people all over. My eyes narrowed as I tried to figure out what was going on.
“The orchestra concert, or whatever the hell it is, is on tonight,” Easton said. I caught the distant sound of instruments being warmed up. “Bonnie’s going, I think. Not quite your scene though, hey, bro? All that classical stuff.” He shook his head. “How anyone sits through that kind of thing is beyond me.”
Bonnie. I hadn’t seen or heard from her all week. She’d been gone from class for the past few days. It was…weird not to have seen her a few rows down. The room almost seemed empty with her gone. She hadn’t texted me either. Not to meet up.
No more asking if I was okay.
I…I didn’t like it.
“He a dick?” Easton asked as we walked into the bar.
I raised my eyebrow, confused. I’d been too busy concentrating on thoughts of Bonnie.
“The stepdad.”
We sat down. The barman nodded at us. “Two Coronas,” Easton said, then thought for a second. “And a couple of tequilas, Chris.”
Easton turned back to me, waiting for my answer. “Don’t know him well. Never made the effort. I’d moved out of home before she’d met him.” Easton nodded, but he looked at me like he was trying to figure something out. “And your mama. You not get along either?” He shook his head. “My mama wouldn’t stand for that. She’d be marching into our dorm room and demanding that I talk to her.” He laughed. “She can be quite the force to be reckoned with.”