52
Valentina
We’re getting better.
I think.
All I really know is I want to spend as much time with Huxley as I can get—just the two of us.
After my classes, he grabs my hand and starts pulling me in the direction opposite of his truck, straight into the music building.
“Wait. I thought you had a class right now?” I match his pace and hold onto his arm as we walk.
He nods. “I do. It’s the one I teach.”
I squint up at him. “Then why are we here? Did you cancel?”
“I don’t have that much authority, Love.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine. Did Professor Owen cancel?”
He turns to me as he grabs the door handle. “Not exactly.”
I frown as he pushes the door open. Barely one step into the room, I hear students talking. My grip on Huxley’s hand tightens as I pull him to a halt. “Huxley. No,” I whisper in utter fear.
“Valentine.”
“I’m not doing this.” My voice shakes, and my hand grips his harder.
There’s no way I’m doing this. I’m not singing in front of a class of students. I’ve barely sung in front of Huxley; there’s no way I’m ready for this type of step.
Huxley steps closer to me, pulling me out of my spiral. “Do you remember that night we went dancing, and you sang in front of all those people?”
I keep my face neutral, but the pain in my heart is palpable. He didn’t even mention it was our anniversary. Just a night we went dancing. A night he took me to get all dressed up so we would be on theme.
It’s not like we had our first kiss or anything that night. Nope. Just another night for him.
“The woman said most of them were deaf,” I remind him, since he clearly doesn’t remember all the details of that night.
“That’s not the point. You still had fun up there. And you should be singing in front of people who can actually hear you.”
I shake my head, my voice barely a whisper. “I can’t.”
His hands cup my face, tilting it up more to him. “Yes, you can.” He gently strokes my cheek, trying to calm me. “You’re so talented, Valentina. And I really think these kids could learn something from you.”
Now he’s just speaking nonsense. “What could they possibly learn from me?”
He kisses me quickly and leaves me there as he walks out in front of the students. “This is quite the turnout,” he says to them.
“You promised a surprise.” A random student’s voice filters through.
Huxley nods. “That I did. But before I bring them out, let’s talk about why I’ve brought them here in the first place.”
I need to leave. There’s no way I can do this. There’s nothing that these kids can learn from me. I’m barely even a singer.
I look back at the door, ready to run. Pretend none of this ever happened and crawl under my bed until Huxley realizes I’m not going to do this.
“Emotion.”
I freeze.
Emotion?
“When you play an instrument or sing a song, one of the most important things you can do is add emotion,” Huxley continues.
“Without it, you’re just playing notes or putting words to a melody.
There’s no feeling behind it. And if you don’t have feeling behind it when you perform, then the audience isn’t going to feel anything from it either. ”
Why is this his introduction for me? I doubt I show that much emotion. Actually, I probably look bored when I sing. Or I make weird faces. Basically, anything along the lines of what not to do when you sing. So why say this about me?
“And that is why I have brought a special guest for all of you today,” Huxley tells them. “Because not only does this woman have one of the greatest voices I’ve ever heard.”
“Fuck me,” I whisper to myself.
“But she conveys emotions so effortlessly when she sings.”
Is Huxley blind? That’s the only way this would make sense. It would also make sense why he’s been able to stay with me throughout this deal. He can’t see me, so he doesn’t know what he’s looking at.
Don’t be stupid.
Right. He’s just playing me. Forgot.
Huxley peeks around the wall I’m hiding behind and gives me a slight nod. I don’t know why, but I nod back.
“Miss Valentina Demarco, everyone,” he announces. I drop my bag and walk around the wall to see a full class staring back at me. I give them my most convincing smile as I walk up to Huxley.
“Wait a minute,” a student calls out. I look in the direction of the voice, and my eyes go wide. “You’re the girl who asked him for sex at the beginning of the semester.”
The entire class starts talking over each other at the realization.
God, this isn’t happening. Why did it have to be this exact group of kids? I turn away from them and try to melt into the floor. Or just disappear from the face of the earth.
“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” I groan under my breath.
“Not now, Love,” Huxley whispers to me.
My eyes widen, and my face is surely turning every color of red right now.
Huxley silences the students who are still gushing over my embarrassment. “Well, now you all know that friendships can be started in many ways.”
My entire body collapses. Not literally, because then Huxley would know how much he just killed me. I can get over him calling me a friend, but he’s saying our friendship started when I asked him for sex. But that’s not true.
Sure, we didn’t talk much before then, but I always thought we just had this different type of friendship. One where we didn’t have to talk all the time, but we could still call each other friends.
But I’m wrong. I’m so fucking wrong.
Why did he ever speak to me again after our class together Freshman year? If he didn’t see me as a friend, why did he keep calling me Valentine? Why did he ever talk to me at all?
I’m really just here for him to see what a relationship is like. And he’s just here to fuck me. That’s all. And there will never be a different narrative.
Huxley looks down at me with a smile. It’s not mine anymore. No matter what happens in the next few months, nothing of him will ever be mine. I was stupid to think that I ever had anything of him to begin with.
I have to bite my tongue so tears don’t fall.
“Would you mind playing something for us?” he asks so calmly I know he can’t see my heart breaking in my chest.
I don’t say anything to him. I don’t even nod. I just walk past him to the piano.
My fingers land over the keys as my mind goes blank. Not a single song pops up in my head to play for this class. And then my fingers start moving on their own. When I recognize the song, tears fill my eyes.
He wants emotional, I’ll give him emotional.
Pain escapes me as I start to sing. Right now, I’m grateful for all those years of lessons because I can’t see the keys anymore, my eyes full of tears.
I was so stupid to believe this was real. To believe that Huxley would have thought of us as anything other than the deal that we had. I’m nothing to him. And come graduation, he will fade away and become a superstar while I’m left behind. Barely even a memory to him. Not even an afterthought.
My hands are shaking as I pull them off the keys and the classroom fills with applause, pulling me from the moment and back to reality. I slowly look up, my eyes locking with Huxley’s. He walks up to me with a smile as he claps along with the class.
He doesn’t see I’m breaking. He doesn’t know I’m falling apart. And if he can’t see it now, he’ll never notice when it’s too late because that’s where I’m heading.
I’m heading to the place I can’t return from.
He promised to hold the weight of it all for me, but right now I feel every ounce of pressure on my body, and he’s floating away. Just like I always knew he would.