8. Melody
8
MELODY
W hat an arrogant prick. I’d slipped out early to avoid him, but he somehow got ahold of my number. Probably from his dad. Who does he think he is telling me what time to be back at the dorm, like he’s my keeper? Irritation grates at my nerves as I sip on my caramel macchiato. The warm liquid heats my body in this frigid weather.
I should be used to the weather having lived in New York for the last six months, but before that my mom and I were living in Florida. I worked at a nightclub, and she worked at a country club in St. Bipal, where she met her now husband. Having the beach within driving distance is a luxury I miss greatly. I could really go for a trip the beach right now, actually. Dip my toes in the warm sand and feel the waves lapping against my bare skin as the sun beats down from above.
When I get back to the dorm a little past five, I barely knock before Chase is yanking the door open, startling me. He has a habit of making me feel off kilter.
In his hand gleams a key. “I had this made for you, so I guess it’s official, roomie .”
I palm the key and busy myself with placing it on a keychain I dig out of my purse.
“Thanks.” I mutter, setting my things aside. It’s been another rough day, but at least I’m starting to make some friends. Rhonda is quickly becoming my new favorite person. She’s funny and smart as hell. Plus, she offered to help me catch up with things that I’ve missed, which I more than appreciate. I’ll take all the help I can get.
A violin sits on top of the baby grand piano’s bench. “You play violin too?” I ask going over to pick it up.
“Uh, yeah. Ever since I was five. My mom gifted that to me.” He gestures at the violin in my hands. He looks nervous like I’m going to drop it. I’m too tired to fuck with him and it seems genuinely important to him.
“It’s beautiful.” I say, setting it back down gently.
His mom. When I first heard who my mom ended up marrying, I did a quick Google search and found that Travis Milford’s wife had passed not long back. The circumstances seemed fishy, but any word of protest from me to my mom was met with anger. She’s always treating me like I’m stupid and a waste of time. That’s why when she offered the position here, I was truly shocked. She’s never helped out before, but when they called with the offer, I knew better than to turn it down. I wasn’t about to start questioning whatever her motives might have been. Not when this place could grant me the life I’ve always dreamed of.
“We should get started on our project if we’re going to get it done on time.” I say.
* * *
"No. No way am I doing country music." Chase says, his legs straddling the piano’s bench.
"I'm just naming genres. Don't get your panties in a twist." I’ve thrown my hair up in a bun and made some coffee to give me enough energy to deal with his massive ego. We've been working together for only fifteen minutes and it's already a disaster.
“What's your idea then?"I ask, blowing on the steaming cup.
“We stick to classical." He scowls at me.
"That's predictable. And boring."
"It's what he likes. And I'm not going to fuck up my grade just because you want to be edgy."
"If you think country music is edgy, I shiver to think about your thoughts on Bad Omens. Do you want to borrow some pearls to clutch?” I laugh at the stricken look on his face.
“Look. I’ve been taking this class all year, and the one last year. Maestro likes what he likes, so I say we just stick to that.”
“Fine. But I still want to add lyrics. He said we could.” I sip my coffee, letting the caffeine worm its way into my system. Come on caffeine, give me energy.
He plays around with some notes on the piano with one hand absentmindedly. Even though he’s hardly paying attention to what he’s doing, the notes still sound beautiful.
“Who’s going to write the lyrics?”
“Both of us.” He gives me an incredulous look. “What?”
“Alright then.”
“Make some room for me.” I say, putting down my cup. “If we’re going to do classical, then we have to come up with the tone of the piece.”
He swings his leg over the bench so that he’s facing the piano and moves over enough to give me some room to sit.
“Do you know how to play?” He asks.
“I don’t.” I admit. “I’ve always wanted to learn but we never had the money or the time. I’ve had a job since I was twelve. It didn’t leave a lot of time for much anything else.”
The air seems to thin between us and his jaw ticks, in irritation or something else, I don’t know.
“That seems kinda young to be holding down a job.”
I shrug my shoulder. “You do what you have to, to survive.”
I feel his eyes on me, but I ignore it, placing my hands on the ivory keys. Pressing down, a high-pitched note fills the space around us.
“Here.” He grabs my hand in his and places my fingers right where he wants them. I try and ignore the way my skin feels like it’s on fire as he touches me. The pressure is light, but lingering. My heart rate has ticked up a few beats and I’m keenly aware of his alluring scent. It’s warm with a hint of spice lingering underneath.
Swallowing hard, I let him lead, pressing my fingers down on the keys one at a time. It creates a harmonious almost angelic sound. Then he moves my hand again, a little further down and presses down in the same sequence. Our knees knock together, and I pull back attempting to keep a respectable distance between us, though a part of me regrets it the moment I do it.
“Now, you do it on your own.”
My mind short-circuits trying to recall exactly where my hand is supposed to be because I’m still caught up in how it feels to be next him, before I find the right spot. The notes play out exactly as he showed me, and he smiles at me like he’s proud. I feel it all the way down to my toes.
I beam at him, and we stare at each other for a few heartbeats before my phone pings, breaking the spell crackling between us. The sound jolts me into the present moment, and I jump up off the bench, striding over to my purse to dig my phone out and put as much space between myself and Chase as possible. What the hell am I doing feeling all squishy inside at his proximity? I saw him earlier with that other girl and he’s been mostly an ass to me since I got here. I know his type. Plus, he’s my stepbrother. Fuck. I keep forgetting that. It feels so surreal to me. Everything in my life has changed so quickly, I’m still grappling with the whiplash.
Looking at my phone, I see that Liam has texted me, and I smile. I feel Chase’s eyes on me as I read what Liam has written to me.
Still on for Friday? P.S. Are you still carrying around your sad luggage or have you finally let go of your attachment issues to it?
Just tell me where and what time ;)
Also, the luggage has been safely retired.
A large hand snags my phone from me and glares down at the messages.
“You want to flirt? You can do that on your own time. But right now, we have work to do.”
“The fuck, Milford! Give me that back.”
I try to swipe at him, but he dodges me easily.
“You can have this back when we’ve written some music. Until then, if you want it, you’ll have to come and get it.” I watch as he slides my phone into his front pocket. My nostrils flare as he looks at me like he’s daring me to take it.
I should. I should walk right up to him, put my hand down his pants and take back my phone. I almost do, but then reason wins out and I relent.
“Fine. Let’s get back to work.”