Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
I 'd been confused when Ren ended the phone call suddenly. He'd simply told me to trust everything would be okay and that he'd talk to me later. He didn't mention our date or the way I'd been ignoring his messages.
I didn't know whether to believe him or not. How could Ren make everything okay? Would he use his influence as a musician to force the event company to hire me? I could maybe imagine him doing that. It wouldn't be fair to the person they chose, though. They probably needed the money just as much as I did.
I spent the night torn between tears and hope closed off in my room so Jen and Natalie wouldn't know anything was wrong. I didn't want them to see me so upset. It would only make them worry. I made sure to shower and hole myself up in my room before they came home. I remembered to take the chicken out of the oven, so at least I hadn't burnt the apartment down.
Class the next day was difficult to get through. Every five minutes my mind would wander and I'd start thinking negative thoughts.
I'm never going to sit in this class again and watch my professor drone on about music history.
Even the most boring of subjects was suddenly something I couldn't live without.
My last class of the day finally finished without anyone noticing how out of it I was. At the very least, I hadn't burst into tears.
I walked out of the classroom to find my advisor waiting for me. I was surprised to see him. Temsah usually made appointments. Something important must have come up for him to ambush me.
"Ivy, can I see you in my office?"
I bit my lip and nodded, trying to fight back tears, staring at my shoes the whole way. Was that it? Did he know I didn't have the money? Was he preparing me to leave school?
When he reached his office I took a seat across from him, clutching my bag tightly in my lap.
"No need to look so worried. I haven't brought you in to discuss your grades."
I nodded, still staring at my lap. I knew I'd been slipping. Thoughts of Ren had been distracting me.
"An interesting development has come up."
I lifted my head, confused.
"An anonymous donor has made a very generous donation to the school. They've funded a scholarship, the requirements of which are very specific."
A tiny spark of understanding prickled at the back of my mind.
"This scholarship is to be awarded based on financial need to a female cellist in her junior or senior year. She must also be enrolled in either composition or performance. A double major in both is preferable."
I inhaled a sharp breath.
"As I'm sure you know, there are very few students who meet all those requirements. Since it is based on financial need, you have been chosen as the recipient this year." My advisor gave me a smile and placed his clasped hands on the desk. "Congratulations."
I choked out a bewildered thank you.
"I'll leave this with you." He pushed a stack of papers across the desk. I picked them up with numb fingers and shoved them in my bag. "They outline the scholarship details, what you need to do to accept it, how to apply it to your tuition, and so on."
I nodded silently.
"I won't keep you. I know you just finished your last class."
I thanked him again and wandered out of his office in a daze.
A last minute scholarship from an anonymous donor that I just happened to meet all the requirements for?
I pulled out my phone. It rang a few times and I wondered if I'd have to leave a voicemail until a familiar voice answered.
"Hello?"
"What did you do?"
"Ivy!" Ren sounded pleased. "I'm glad to hear from you. How are you doing?"
"What did you do?" I repeated.
"I don't know what you mean." His voice was breezy, but with an undertone of delight.
"I can't let you do this."
"Do what?"
I was starting to get angry. "Stop playing dumb! I know it the anonymous scholarship came from you."
"Ah. Yes. That. Consider it my way of supporting the arts. Besides, I funded it for five years. You're not the only one who's going to benefit from it."
"I'm not taking your money."
"Technically, the money is coming from an anonymous donor."
"I don't need your pity! I can do this on my own."
"It's not pity." His tone changed, becoming serious. "You work hard. You're talented. You deserve to be at that school, Ivy. I'm not going to just sit back and watch your life fall apart when I can do something about it."
"You don't understand." I couldn't just let him throw money at me like I was some charity case. Even before becoming a rock star, Ren's family had been well-off, wealthy even. I didn't want Ren thinking I was just using him.
"Ivy, I care about you."
My heart skipped a beat. I gripped my phone tight.
"You said if you couldn't pay tuition you'd have to leave. You'd have to go back home." His voice turned low and smooth as silk. "I don't want you to leave. I want you to stay here. With me."
My breathing became shallow, anger and frustration bleeding out of me.
"Why don't you come over to my place and we can talk about it. That way we won't be interrupted by fans."
A shiver went through me. His place.
It would be just Ren and I, alone, at his place.
His handsome face flashed before my eyes and I could practically feel his strong hands squeezing mine, thumb rubbing over my skin.
I swallowed heavily. I was still upset with him.
"Sure. I'll come over."
I followed the directions Ren texted me. I had to wheel my cello through the streets, but luckily he lived right in the heart of downtown near my college.
My phone beeped, letting me know I'd arrived. I looked up from the screen and found myself in front of double wide glass doors. I pushed them open and stepped inside.
My mouth dropped.
Ren's place was incredible.
The marble flooring practically glowed, fancy furniture was arranged all around the waiting area and expensive looking art adorned the walls.
Never in a million years would I ever be able to afford to live somewhere so… lux .
"Hello? Can I help you?"
A young man in a business suit sat behind a mahogany desk—the concierge?
"I'm here to visit someone," I managed to say.
He gave me the once-over, no doubt taking in my plain dress and scuffed shoes. Surprisingly, he didn't give me a nasty or judgmental look. He simply asked, "Shall I call up?"
"Um. I have his phone number." I turned around and texted Ren that I arrived.
Be right down , he texted back.
I had to wait several minutes. I hadn't thought to check how many stories the building had. Was Ren taking the elevator from the hundredth floor? I felt almost sick thinking about it. I wasn't afraid of heights, but I didn't think human beings should live that high off the ground.
The elevator doors dinged and Ren stepped out.
I'd never seen him dressed so casually—black jeans and a plain white T-shirt so tight I could see every clearly defined ab. And dear god, those forearms. Ren had some muscle.
My heart beat a small thrill. I swallowed hard.
The internet said the guys of Feral Silence liked to strip on stage. Did that include Ren? Why had I never thought to search for videos of him shirtless? My mouth almost watered at the thought of his bare skin.
"Ivy!" Ren appeared next to me as I remained lost in thought. I tilted my head back to meet his eyes.
I was supposed to be upset with him, I reminded myself. Getting involved with a rock star was a bad idea. I didn't need that kind of complication in my life.
His warm hand engulfed mine and squeezed gently, his thumb rubbing over my knuckles just like he had at the coffee shop. I nearly whimpered as that small touch sent a wave of warmth up my arm and straight to my chest—and other parts of my body. I squeezed my thighs together unconsciously and tried to ignore the heat rising inside me.
"Thanks for agreeing to come." He led me to the elevators as I followed behind, entranced by the strong, shifting muscles in his back.
I never imagined a plain t-shirt on a man could look so sexy. Why did Ren always wear waistcoats and suit jackets on stage? He could have given Jayce a run for his money.
The thought of a shirtless Ren in a leather jacket almost made my brain short circuit.
"Ivy?"
We were in the elevator climbing floor after floor and I still hadn't spoken a word.
"I'm sorry I upset you. I don't want you to be mad at me."
"I'm not—" I stopped and cleared my throat, not wanting to sound breathless. "I'm not mad at you."
Ren's face lost its worried expression, the tension around his eyes relaxing.
"But I still can't let you pay for my tuition."
Ren opened his mouth to respond, but the elevator dinged as we reached his floor. He was still holding my hand as we walked into his apartment.
I glanced around quickly. Black, overstuffed leather seating, dark wood end tables, tall floor lamps with dim lighting and endless bookshelves—it was very homey.
"You want something to drink? Beer? Soda? A glass of water?"
I shook my head, not wanting to get distracted from the conversion we were going to have. "Ren, I can't take your money."
"Let's sit down and talk, okay?"
I gave up and sat on one of the sofas pressing myself up against one arm. Ren sat on the other side, leaving a space in the middle.
"Why did you decide to go to Opus?"
"Trying to change the subject?"
"Just humor me."
I was silent for a moment, thinking. "They're one of the best. They have an excellent reputation. Their teachers are first class and many students go on to have great careers in the music industry."
"It's so far from home, though."
I shrugged. "I don't mind so much. With everything going on, it's probably better I'm not back home with my parents anyway."
"Why? What happened with your parents?" He jumped on my last comment, his tone turning dark with worry.
Should I tell him? "My mom lost her job. My dad's business has never been very successful. They've burned through their savings. If I was home, I'd just be a burden."
I was confused when a look of relief crossed Ren's face. What had he thought was going on with my parents?
"That doesn't change anything," I insisted. "I don't need your help. I can do it on my own."
"Can you?"
I flushed. I'd tried and proven that I couldn't, but I didn't want to be some gold digger. I wouldn't be someone's charity case. I'd just have to find another way. "You wouldn't understand."
"What wouldn't I understand?"
I bit my lip. "My parents didn't have a lot of money growing up. They worked hard for every little bit they had and they did it all on their own. They never asked for handouts from anyone."
"It's not a handout!" Ren's face was lined with frustration. He closed his eyes and visibly forced himself to relax. "Look, let's forget about all that for now. Can we just talk?"
"We are talking."
He huffed out an exasperated laugh. "No, we're arguing. Talk to me about something else. Talk to me about your classes, or your friends, or what you want to do when you grow up."
"Are you saying I'm not grown up?"
He quirked a smile. "I'll admit you're probably more mature at your age than I was."
"You're only two years older than me. Don't make it sound like you're an old man."
He somehow managed to turn the conversation around. The tension in my chest eased now that we weren't fighting over the money.
"What about your friends? They're fans, right?"
"Yeah. They're the ones who took me to your show."
"And how have they been reacting to all this?"
"All this?"
He gestured to the two of us. I wanted him to say it out loud, to define what exactly was going on between the two of us, but he didn't.
"They've been great. They're happy for me. Not jealous at all."
"They haven't pestered you for Jayce's phone number yet?"
I laughed. "No. Meeting you guys after the concert was enough to make them almost explode. I have no idea what would happen if they actually met Jayce in person for more than ten seconds."
"He does that have effect on women."
You have that effect on women . I stopped myself before I said that thought out loud. I had calmed down since arriving and began to notice how close Ren was to me. He'd shifted on the sofa and slid across the cushions only a few inches away from me. Our knees were almost touching.
"Ivy."
I looked up and met Ren's beautiful brown eyes. They were usually so soft, so full of laughter and kindness. The longer we stared at each other, the darker his eyes became as they burned into me, hard and intense. His eyes were narrowed, hot and heated.
A hand on my leg made me jump, then melt. Ren's fingers trailed slowly from my ankle up my calf and to the back of my knee. It had been unseasonably warm and I wasn't wearing tights under my dress. He was touching me, skin to skin.
The feel of those warm fingers ignited something inside me, a pulsing, throbbing ache centering between my legs. His hand was so close, almost between my thighs. With the slightest movement he could?—
His fingers moved back down my leg, caressing and stroking. My stomach muscles unclenched and I could breathe again.
Ren repeated the motion, no doubt meaning for it to be soothing, reassuring. Did he have any idea that his touch was turning my insides into jelly?
"I've missed you, Ivy." The words were said casually, but there was a hint of something deeper underneath them.
"I've missed you, too." Why did you leave me? I wanted to ask, but I didn't want to ruin the moment. I didn't want him to pull away. I wanted him to continue touching me.
Then he pressed his lips to mine.