Prologue #3
He has it out for me. Okay, that’s illogical, but it feels true. He wants to show me up. As if to say, ‘This is how you actually play the piano. Not how that first girl tried to.’
I hate him—feelings begone.
He places his fingers on the keys, but then turns to look at all of the students, smiling as some of the girls swoon over him.
“Anyone mind if I sing a bit too? I swear I know I’m not terrible,” he says with another easy smile. A smile that is setting my insides on fire. And not in a bad way.
“Singing as well?” Professor Owen questions with growing intrigue. Maybe he’s hoping to have an actual Rockstar come out of his class. Then he can go around telling people that he taught him in college.
He’ll probably be capitalizing off of Huxley in the next five years.
“Yeah, I plan on making my own music,” Huxley adds. “Maybe start a band or something one day.”
A guy on the other side of the room snorts. “A band? What, are you from England?”
Wow. That felt desperate. Does this guy not know that people start bands all over the world? Just because popular groups from the 80s came from England doesn’t mean that’s where all bands come from.
“Yeah, me and the ol’ chaps back home plan on getting together after Uni,” Huxley says in a terrible British accent. “Thinking about calling ourselves the Beatles, maybe.”
I laugh.
I laugh.
Not loudly, thank god. But still, I laugh.
And I’m the only one.
It was a stupid British accent, also. Why did that make me laugh?
Everyone turns and glances at me, but my focus goes to Huxley. He smiles again, and I feel that fire burn even more inside of me.
Stop smiling at me, I want to say to him. He’s clearly enjoying this. I look away from his gaze and catch a few girls on the other side of the room glaring.
What did I do? They should have been the ones laughing at his stupid accent, not me.
“Very well, Mr. Adams.” Professor Owen nods. “Whenever you’re ready.”
I am not going to watch him, not after that whole laughing situation. I’ll just sit here and be indifferent like he was about my performance.
Music filters through the air, and my head lifts without my consent. No. I’m not watching him. I look to my left and try to keep my focus there, but then he starts singing.
Even though the song sounds soft, his voice is rough and commanding. I wouldn’t think the combination would work, but my god, does he sound amazing.
And he just keeps getting better. His voice only gets stronger the more powerful he sings, and it feels like I’m sitting at a concert venue watching a seasoned professional play one of his songs.
Why is he even in college? There’s no way this is his first time playing to a crowd. But if that’s true, why is he in college when he should be touring the world already?
And then it happens. The moment I knew would come. The moment he shows me up.
Sure, I’m not going into music, and this is his major, but the way he’s playing right now makes my performance seem like Mary Had a Little Lamb while he plays the hardest song ever to be played on the piano while singing and playing the guitar and even the drums all at once.
He’s just that damn good.
There’s no way he’s staying here after this performance. Honestly, I see Professor Owen calling up some recording agency and getting them in to see Huxley so they can sign him and send him off to LA. There’s just no reason for him to finish college when he’s this good.
I’m so lost in his performance that I flinch when the room erupts into cheers.
An elbow nudges my arm. “Don't make it obvious,” Birdie whispers as she claps weakly.
I finally come out of my haze and clap for him as well before Professor Owen quiets the room. His eyes fall back on Huxley as he studies him. “Mr. Adams,” he says, stepping closer to the piano. “You do realize this is a beginner’s course.”
Huxley nods. “I’m aware of that, Sir.”
“You aren’t a beginner, I’m afraid.”
“You kicking me out?”
The girls on the other side of the room giggle a little too forcefully, almost like they’re trying to make up for not laughing earlier.
Professor Owen smiles. “No, son, I’m not. But I think you need to start getting your sights in order. You have a future ahead of you. A very big and bright future.”
Huxley forces a smile, nodding stiffly like it pains him to take a compliment. “Thank you, Sir.”
Professor Owen turns back and raises his voice to the class. “Alright. I’ll see you all on Wednesday.”
I stand as fast as possible to get out of here before Huxley comes back up to his seat. The last thing I need is him mentioning that I laughed at him. And maybe he’s waiting to gloat about his performance to my face.
Unlikely, but possible.
I gather up all my stuff, ready to run out of the room, but Birdie is still beside me, slower to grab her things.
Collin stands from his seat and grabs Huxley’s bag. I look toward the front of the room and watch all the girls who were giggling at Huxley, surrounding him, blocking him from leaving.
Should have seen that coming.
“See you around, little bird,” Collin says to Birdie, a smirk pulling on his lips.
Birdie grabs my arm and glares at him. “You wish.” She pulls me behind her to the other side of the room. “God, I thought that class would never end,” she says as we make it down the stairs.
“Why are you taking it anyway?”
She shrugs. “I thought it would be an easy A. But apparently not with Mr. Superstar in there.” She gestures vaguely in Huxley’s direction, so I glance back and see him still surrounded by girls. He glances up at me, but I hurry after Birdie.
“I mean, seriously. He’s just taking this class to show off. There’s no other reason for him to be here.”
Huxley’s reaction to Professor Owen’s compliment replays in my mind. Despite his amazing performance, he almost looked scared at the idea of becoming something bigger, which doesn’t make sense to me. Someone that talented usually knows they are talented and wants everyone else to know too.
I shrug. “Maybe he doesn’t think he’s good enough.”
Birdie glares at me. “He knows he’s good. Who brings a guitar and then plays the piano instead? Someone who wants to show off. That’s who.”
“Yeah. I guess so.”
Birdie turns to face me completely in front of the door. “Your name’s Valentina, right?” I nod. “You go by Val?”
No.
I quickly swallow that word and nod again. “Sure.”
My sister used to call me Valerie, and my brother calls me Tina, both of them hating my full name.
But other than them, no one ever called me anything other than Valentina.
My parents said that was the name they gave me, so I was expected to use it when speaking to others.
As if going by even a nickname would disgrace them somehow.
So I’ve always planned to go by Valentina.
But this is college. And my parents are over a thousand miles away.
“I’m claiming you,” Birdie states as she flings her bag over her shoulder. “You don’t mind, do you?”
The last thing I expected was to make a friend on my first day. Yet somehow, having someone claim me, not just on the first day but at all, makes it even higher on the list of things I didn’t expect.
“Not at all.”
She nods as if to make it official. “Great. I’ll see you Wednesday then.”
Birdie waves and takes off down the hallway to get to her next class, and I turn in the opposite direction and head for the stairwell. I only make it a few feet when I hear someone behind me.
“Hey, Valentine.”
I freeze.
Was that Huxley? And why did he call me Valentine?
My suspicions are confirmed as Huxley comes to stand in front of me, towering over me like a fucking skyscraper. Damn it. I knew he was tall. I take a small step back so I don’t break my neck to look up at him.