The moment the professor announces the end of the lecture, I'm on my feet. I swing the backpack over my shoulder and turn in the direction of the door.
"Are you in a hurry?" Warren asks.
I'm about to respond with a definite no, when I realize he's right. Despite having more than enough time, I'm rushing right now.
With a cough to cover the bitter taste in my mouth, I straighten my spine and turn back toward my best friend.
"Not at all."
"But I thought... Forget it." He waves the former thought of. "Don't forget that we have our presentation on Tuesday."
"I know." Even the mere thought of next week and with it the fatal Tuesday has a line of sweat building up on my forehead. "Don't worry, I'll come fully prepared."
"I know you will." He shakes his head. "What I wanted to tell you, was not to stress yourself too much over the weekend. You'll do just fine."
"Thanks." Despite not believing his words I force a soft smile onto my lips. "I'll see you on Monday."
"Okay. And try not to die of boredom during the violinist's practice."
"I'll do my best."
With one last wave I scoot down the row of wooden chairs and head out of the lecture hall. My feet want to move at their own pace, however, every fifth step I force them to move in a slower pattern. I have no reason to hurry, especially since I have more than enough time to reach the Conservatory.
Half an hour later, I park my bike and head toward the entrance. When I round the corner of the building, I catch a couple standing a few steps in front of the glass door. My eyes skip over the unfamiliar strawberry-red locks of a young college student, but stop on the familiar profile of the guy standing next to her.
Nate.
For a second my step falters and I find myself staring at the young woman's hand which is resting on Nate's upper arm. Then I squish down the ping inside my chest and force my tense jaw to relax. It's none of my business who she is, or what kind of relationship she has with Nate to be touching him so freely.
My intention is to walk straight past them, while pretending not to see them. The plan, however, sails away the moment Nate's eyes move past the young woman and land on me.
"Violet."
His ever present smile causes my stomach to do a flip, which sinks my mood even lower. What was wrong with me? I couldn't care less about him and whoever he chooses to spend his time with.
The young woman turns to face me as well, and to my surprise her features don't immediately darken into a scowl. Instead, she only nods in my direction and then turns back to Nate.
"As I was saying..." I'm now close enough to hear her words, but I force myself not to eavesdrop. Who cares what she and Nate are talking about.
Nate, however, still has his eyes fixed on me. I ignore the dry state of my mouth and force myself to keep moving forward.
"Don't mind me," I say when I'm about to walk past them. "I'll just wait inside."
Then with my chin held high I continue straight through the glass door.
"Violet!"
Nate's voice reaches my ears, and my first instinct is to keep walking forward. However, because his voice was loud enough to turn some eyes from much farther away, there is no way I can pretend like I didn't hear him.
I swallow the bitter taste building up inside my mouth and turn around to face him.
"There's no need to hurry," I say to Nate when he comes to a stop a step away from me. "I know where the practice room is, so you take all the time you need."
With that said I spin back around and head up the stairs. Before I ascend the fifth step, however, Nate reaches my side again.
"There's nothing I need to talk with her about that can't wait." He matches his step to mine.
I keep my eyes forward as we make our way up the rest of the stairs and down the hallway, until we reach our standard practice room.
Once inside the familiar room, Nate walks over to where his violin is resting, while I head to my, by now usual, chair. I can't help but glare at the wooden chair still positioned almost right beside mine—the same chair Penny had brought in yesterday. As long as the chair remains empty though, I'm prepared to tolerate it.
While Nate begins to tune-in his violin, I plug in my headphones and pull out the note cards with my part of the presentation written on them. Then with a sigh I begin to read the text for the third time today.
I'm almost at the end of my second card when I catch a shadow of movement with the corner of my right eye. I glance up just in time to see Nate slump into the chair beside mine. With my eyes focused on the stack of notes in my hands, I remove the right headphone off my ear.
"What are you doing?" I ask him, without looking at him.
"This isn't working," he says. "Something feels off today. I can't seem to focus."
"What has you so preoccupied?"
I turn my head sideways, and I come face to face with him. And when I say face to face, I mean face to face. He's not even a fist's size away from me.
The moment our eyes meet, my breath hitches and I find myself unable to move. His mesmerizing chestnut eyes have me sliding down a slope, until there isn't a single thought left inside my mind. All I can see are his warm eyes.
Just when I'm sure he's hypnotizing me, he lowers his eyes from my eyes onto my lips. I try to resist the urge to follow his lead, but almost unconsciously my eyes slide down the heap of his nose, until they land on his full lips. His lips are smooth, without a single dry crack in them, which makes me painfully aware of how dry my own lips feel right now.
My before empty brain is now consumed with a single thought. A desire to lean closer and discover how his lips feel against mine.
I'm not in control of my own body, at least I don't think so, when I begin to lean closer toward him. But I am aware of the fact that he is leaning closer to me as well. His hot breath tickles my skin and all I can see are his lips.
Just when our lips are about to brush, the door slams open with a loud bang.
"What's going on here?"
Nate and I snap our heads in the direction of the door, where a middle-aged man is now standing. His hand is still on the door handle, while his dark eyes zero in on the two of us.
"Mr. Young." Nate leans backwards and sends a polite smile to the newcomer. "Good to see you, sir."
From his neatly pressed clothes, his presence in the Conservatory, and the fact that Nate seems to know him, I assume the man is a professor here.
"Mr. Lewis, from your many years studying here, I would assume you're already familiar with our policy." The man's dark eyes are focused on Nate, completely ignoring me.
"Of course, Mr. Young."
I have never seen nor heard Nate sound so stiff as he does right now. Because of his street performances, and the way he dresses and carries himself, I assumed he had no respect for authority. This single encounter with a teacher, however, was starting to prove me wrong.
"Then you are aware that only students of our college have permission to use the practice rooms?"
My stomach tightens, but it has nothing to do with Nate's proximity. This time it's all because of the dark stare the teacher focuses on me.
"I know that, but you see—" Nate stands up from the chair and takes a step closer toward the middle-aged teacher.
"No buts. I don't care if you're the 'top student' of this Conservatory." He uses his hands to put the word top student in quotation marks. "The rules apply for everyone; including you. So, I'm giving you and your friend five minutes to pack up her things and leave."
"This is not what you think it is." Nate glances at me for a moment and then back at the professor. "She is my muse."
"You think I haven't heard that one before?" The professor scoffs. "I thought you'd be a little more original, Mr. Lewis."
He then focuses his ice-cold eyes back onto me, which makes me feel like I have been caught stealing someone's precious instrument. When I see Nate starting to open his mouth again, I quickly tear the other headphone off my ear and stand up.
"It's okay," I whisper to Nate and swing my backpack over my shoulder. "I'll leave."
Nate looks like he wants to continue to fight for our case, but one shake of my head has his shoulders slump in defeat. I shoot him a tight smile and then turn my back to him. I head over to the door, while keeping my chin straight. No matter how uncomfortable the professor's scowl is making me feel, I refuse to let it show.
"You look like a bright girl," the professor says as I'm about to walk past him. "What you're doing here is wasting your time. I suggest you focus on your own future instead of on Mr. Lewis. He doesn't need a distraction like you."
"Thank you for the warning," I meet his eyes straight on, "but I know what I'm doing."
His lips purse into a white line, yet I begin to move forward again before he can say anything else. Still, his cold voice travels behind me even after I head down the hallway.
"Don't let me catch you in here with her again, Mr. Lewis. Otherwise, there will be consequences."
I descend my first stair when Nate's voice pulls me back.
"Violet!" He shouts and hurries over to me, until he's standing at the top of the stairs. "Don't worry about him. I'll find a way for us to continue our practice. So, I'll see you tomorrow. Okay?"
"Tomorrow's Saturday." I shake my head. "And no matter how much you insist I'm not risking my neck by coming back here."
"I promise you won't get in any trouble. I'll make sure of it." His eyes glint with a secret spark that instantly makes me suspicious.
"What are you going to do?"
"You'll see. I'll wait for you on the spot where we first met."
Despite the squirming inside my stomach I find myself nodding along. I tell myself it's just because I want to know what he has planned. There is no other reason why I would agree to meet him on a Saturday.
Absolutely no other reason.
***
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- E