Darien Grace
"You know I was dying all night, don't you?" Jas chided, grey eyes blazing. Immediately after I'd left Ellen, feather head and their friend this morning, I'd had to all but sprint to make it to my Music, Histories, and Cultures course. I usually knew better than to schedule an eight AM, but it was the only time they had available. I didn't even get to change until right before my composition lab and even then all I did was pull on a pair of vegan leather leggings and Steven Vulture heels. This shirt was seriously sent from God and I wan't going to give it up— it was Giorgio Armani for fuck's sake.
"I came three times last night, Jas. Three. I woke up and my legs shook."
"Looks like class was in session, then," she grinned wickedly, before taking a seat at the end of the bar.
"Actually, that's still on my to-do list," I rolled my eyes, pulling up my email for the fifth time today. The Darling Professor had cancelled class today. He really was doing a wonderful job. Caleb would be so proud to know that we'd already had more cancelled classes within the past two weeks than we ever did during an entire semester of his class.
"Who'd you leave with?"
"Not a damn clue," I shrugged, fingering the fabric of the shirt, "he knows his material though."
"You couldn't walk, Ren. That's pure fucking talent."
"No! I mean well yeah, he knew that material," I laughed, "but check out this shirt. It's fucking Armani."
"What the hell? You just took it?" Jas whispered, checking the tag, her face incredulous.
"I figured I'd earned it," I smirked, messing with the moonstone pendant around my neck.
"Oh, I'm sure you did."
"Come on, you and I both know that I changed his life."
"Damn. I almost miss dehydrated Ren. She was a lot more humble," Jas laughed, rolling her eyes at me.
"Oh, hush. I'm buying your drinks."
"In that case," Jas motioned to the bartender; she was at the other end of the bar talking with a couple sitting in the shadows, "two martini's, grey goose, dirty, extra olives."
"Let me see your IDs." I quirked an eyebrow up at Jas before fishing in my clutch for my fake. The bartender watched us with a strange expression before taking the cards from us. I'd never been carded on campus or by someone so "diligent" in her job.
"These are fake."
"Excuse me?"
"I said they're fake. Get out before I call the cops."
"Go ahead, call them. You'll just look like a paranoid bitch," I challenged. Our IDs were flawless. I knew it and so did local law enforcement. They'd been trying to bust me for years.
"Just serve them, Gabby." I turned at the sound of the male voice. He looked to be about thirty, light hair and eyes contrasted by his dark button up and distressed jeans.
"Pete, are you trying to get us arrested?"
"Are you? Piss too many of these kids off and they'll report us for serving minors period. Just give them their drinks."
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Gabby grumbled, throwing our fakes down onto the counter. She filled our order in a fury, flinging vodka and olive juice everywhere.
"Someone needs to get it in," Jas joked, her grey eyes wicked, "she's almost as bad as you."
"Oh please, I was never that bad."
"Bull-fucking-shit."
"Here. Drink them, pay, and leave," Gabby growled, practically slamming our drinks down onto the bar top in front of us.
"If you can't get it in, at least go buy a plastic one." Rolling my eyes, I threw thirty dollars down onto the bar.
"I don't want your slut money," she sneered, pushing it back across the counter towards me. A snort sounded from the end of the bar. Jas's head snapped around to find the source. That same girl with strange sea green eyes and feathers in her hair was smirking at me from the shadows. A dark head lying facedown on the countertop next to her. I quirked an eyebrow up at her in challenge before turning my attention back to the bitch of a bartender.
"My G-string only takes Benjamins," Jas nearly snorted vodka out of her nose and Gabby's jaw went slack, "Keep the change." I downed the martini before grabbing my ID back up off the counter and sashaying towards the exit. Half a second later, I heard Jas's glass hit the counter and then she was next to me. I paused right before pushing out the door.
"You know, we really should stop meeting like this," I grinned, my voice taunting. The guy next to the feather head stiffened, muscles outlined through his thin t-shirt— damn.
"I'd prefer we stop meeting in general," she replied, cooly sipping her drink.
"But we have such a strong connection!"
"Are you sure that's not your hormones talking?"
"Oh sweetheart, you aren't packing the right equipment for that."
"Oh?"
"I prefer the carnivorous lifestyle."
"Vegetarian diets have been scientifically proven to be healthier," Gabby quipped, eyeing me from behind the counter, a wicked glint in her eyes.
"I think I'll be fine. I have a pretty strenuous exercise regime," I grinned, "Where's the slutty Ellen?"
"Bianca had class."
"Shame, oh well, it seems as if you have your hands full," I switched my gaze between the feather haired girl and Gabby.
"Jealous?"
"Oh never, I have a nice little exotic meal I've been looking forward to for a while." Her eyes darkened perceptibly. I just grinned in response, reaching for the door.
We weren't ten feet away before Jas asked "How is it that you always manage to piss people off before you even open your mouth?"
"I'm blessed."
"Or cursed," she laughed making me shrug, "How'd you know her anyway?"
"Well, she and her lesbo fuck-buddy were listening through the wall last night. Turns out I fucked some friend of hers," I shrugged, waving the memory away. They guy had fulfilled his purpose; at least I could think clearly again.
"And the bartender?"
"Actually, I didn't know her," I paused, trying to figure out how I'd managed to piss her off so quickly. It couldn't have just been the IDs. I'd been in there before and she'd always served me without a word. I guess I could thank her new buddy— fucking feather-head.
"She did not look like she wanted to see you," Jas chuckled, pulling her blonde hair up into a ponytail.
"Can't imagine why," I grinned, turning the corner.
"Yeah, because one night stands are normal."
"They do it all the time on the magic speaking box?" I pleaded, pouting.
"Oh, don't even," Jas laughed, linking her arm through mine as we walked back towards the center of campus.
"Are you going to be home later?" I asked, stopping outside the Arts complex.
"Nah, I was thinking about either staying at my dads' or going to Aiden's. Not all of us got it in last night."
"Oh please, you had plenty of opportunities. Greg was ready to strip you down then and there."
"Yeah, I'm not a big fan of sloppy seconds," she teased.
"I'd like to think that I'm a fairly neat person!"
"Ren, have you seen your room lately? There are Starbucks cups in there from last month. Josephine won't go near it."
"Maybe I'm starting a collection."
"Mind if I contribute? The trash can is literally floors away."
"Oh, fuck you!"
"You know you love me."
"Yeah, whatever. I'll see you later though, I skipped my violin session yesterday so I'm going to see if there's a practice room open."
***
My fingers ached by the time the janitorial staff came by for the third time. I understood that they wanted to go home, but practice rooms were supposed to be available to music majors and minors twenty-four hours a day. I couldn't help but feel like I was being pushed out of there. Locking the door was useless, they all had keys and the soundproofing in the rooms didn't help to drown out the whirl of their industrial grade waxer. I'd made it through the solo that Madame Dupond had assigned twice before I reached my breaking point. They kept pushing that damned machine up against the door, the resulting thud always making me jump and hit a stale chord.
"Pour l'amour de Dieu!" (For the love of God!) I grumbled, shuffling my sheet music back up into my folder and stuffing it into my satchel. I packed the violin up and threw the door open, "Voilà, t'es content maintenant?" (There, happy now?) I ignored their confused expressions and headed towards Madame Dupond's office. I'd come in with a focus in piano and I'd never intended in taking formal violin lessons. When I'd even mentioned that I was interested in the course, she insisted that I enroll and borrow her instrument. It was different but sometimes, if I looked hard enough, I could almost see piano keys along the neck.
Rounding the corner, I unlocked her door and replaced the instrument in the cabinet along the back wall. An orchestra played softly in the background, the stereo, hidden behind vases of pink peonies, always on. I sat down in her chair for a minute, following the music in my mind. There was something extra, something that didn't belong- a staccato piano melody mixing into the strains of the woodwinds.
It was nearly two am, I hadn't expected anyone else to be here this late on a Friday night. We were in college in the heart of New York City for Christ's sake. What the hell was someone else doing here?
Shouldering my bag, I locked the Madame's office and took the stairs down to the first floor. All of the piano practice rooms were open except the last, my favorite. It was at the end of the hall, nestled in the far corner of the entire building, the two outside walls were dominated by giant windows with thick drapes. The natural light made the room ethereal during the summer afternoons and snowy winter days. When Jas and I were in our freshman year, it became a sanctuary to me. I came here to escape her constantly begging for me to run lines with her or give her feedback on her latest monologue. Theater majors...
No one used that room except for me; literally, no one.
I was ready to throw the door open and ask whoever it was what the fuck they thought they were doing, but something made me stop. The music was rough and choppy; it kept pausing and replaying the same parts whenever a wrong key was struck. I knew that there were a few unpracticed musicians in the department, but there was no way in hell this kid was one of them. Stepping forward, I peaked in through the cracked doorway. Seated in front of the baby grand was a familiar chiseled frame topped with dark, unruly hair. His large fingers stumbled over the keys causing him to pull one hand back through that wild hair. His worn t-shirt clung to his frame, black jeans stopping where they met dark leather boots.
"You know, if you're going to call in sick, you probably shouldn't hijack one of your student's favorite places," I grinned, leaning lazily up against the doorframe. He jumped at the sound of my voice, the music stopping all together.
"Food poisoning, I'm over it now," he shrugged, not bothering to turn around. He didn't have to look at me for me to know that he was lying to his teeth. A chill raced down my spine at the sound of his voice. Stella immediately woke up and started panting.
"Liar," I smirked, moving to lean on top of the polished black surface, "You know you're supposed to open the lid, right?"
"What? No. You are? I thought it was just for show?"
"All of the sound is trapped, it's being forced to vibrate against the wood instead of filling the room. It sounds muffled. Play a progression," I instructed. He just looked at me for a moment, his brow furrowed before shaking his head and doing as he was told. His fingers stumbled more now that he knew I was watching, but eventually he reached the end.
"Okay," I lifted the lid, setting the prop, "Now, again." Music filled the room, his eyes widened, a light pink coloring his cheeks.
"Oh," he mumble, pushing his glasses off of his nose and back up into his hair.
"I think I'm a fan of this learning curve," I smirked, rounding the piano, sitting down next to him on the bench. He literally got up and moved over, putting as much space in between us as possible while still staying on the bench.
"I don't bite... actually no, that's a lie," I laughed, pulling my bottom lip in between my teeth. I couldn't count the number of times the I'd imagined marking his neck up with red, trails from my nails crossing all across that muscular back.
"Well that's reassuring," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his wrist across his eyes.
"I'm not great with the whole 'pep talk' bit. Actually, I'm not great with talking period. I'm more of the physical type," I grinned, my sore fingers finding the keys and following the same melody he'd been struggling to play with ease.
"Why do you do that?" he asked, turning to me, hazel eyes blazing.
"Do what?"
"To twist everything you say into some perverted innuendo?"
"What makes you think I'm twisting anything?"
"You could have just left it and had a serious conversation for once."
"I happen to think that sex is an incredibly serious topic," I challenged, flashing him a grin.
"I think you use it as a front to intimidate people and to keep them from trying to get to know you."
"Why would I do that?"
"Because you have an immense fear of abandonment. You're terrified that if you even start to let someone in they will leave you and you won't be able to handle it. You do whatever you can to keep people at a distance, even Jas, Caleb and John."
"You've thought about this a lot," I muttered, still following the melody, absently adding in strains of other complimentary tunes.
"You're a hard person to forget." His voice was so open and raw. I frowned, focusing on the ivory keys rather than the expression of pity that I knew would be etched into his face. "I never should have taken that paper."
"No, you shouldn't have," I ground out, transitioning the music into a darker melody. My fingers were aching, but anything was better than actually partaking in an assessment of my inner "Darien".
"The day that you yelled at me, I'd been recording my lecture. Caleb asked me to record one every week so that he could make sure we are staying on course. I never turned it off." He stopped and I could feel his eyes on me.
When I didn't react he continued, "A friend of mine is an instructor in the Foreign Language department. He translated everything for me. He sends his condolences, although, he was curious as to why you aren't at least minoring in French," he let out a nervous laugh, his knee bobbing up in down in a restless rhythm.
"Never thought about it, I'll have to take it into consideration," I muttered, ignoring his revelation, my fingers still moving deftly along the keys.
"I had no right saying those things about your family. I don't know what you went through and I never will, not fully. I can only hope to try and understand ,but in order for me to do that you have to open up to me."
"What makes you think that's ever going to happen? I've known Jas since I was fourteen. Even she doesn't know everything that happened."
"I'm not asking you to tell me every dark memory, I'm just asking you to have a real conversation with me. No fronts, no bullshit. Just a real, genuine conversation. Do you think you can do that?" His tone was gentle, one large hand coming up to cup my cheek, pulling me away from the distraction the piano created.
"Darien?"
"Okay," I whispered, my bottom lip trembling with useless emotion. There was a reason I had so many "daddy issues". I didn't deal with my shit. I compartmentalized everything. If I didn't have to deal with something at that exact point in time it got boxed away and labeled "DO NOT OPEN" with bright fucking red tape. I wasn't sure how much tape I was ready to cut into just yet, but I figured the "conversation" box couldn't be as bad as Pandora's So, why the hell not?
"Okay."