Chapter 9 – Reese
YOUR SHIRT’S ON BACKWARDS
REESE
Over the next few days, Dakota wasn’t there when I went to bed and he wasn’t there when I woke up in the morning.
The curiosity I’d been harboring for days was gone, too. All that was left was an aching numbness.
I didn’t want his words—and the way he’d said them—to bother me, but I couldn’t help it.
He had been so crushingly mean.
I was used to people making fun of me or avoiding me or looking down their noses at me. I was used to the mean words and the mean looks and being treated like I really was walking around with some contagious disease.
I was used to being ignored or belittled or excluded.
But what I wasn’t used to was someone treating me with warmth, calling my birthmark pretty, and acting like they wanted to be around me—and then telling me to fuck off with their next breath.
I didn’t know how to handle that.
I wasn’t sure I was handling any of it right, but I honestly didn’t know what to do with all the hurt. Wasn’t sure just why those words had plunged so deep, growing sharper the lower they sank.
I also couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to what happened.
I had never, ever seen Dakota look so uncomfortable. So stiff and guarded.
His brother…Everett. It was clear Dakota didn’t like him. Even I could understand that kind of body language. But what I didn’t understand was why he’d had to speak to me so harshly when he never had before.
Ugh, I didn’t want to think about it anymore.
I shoved Dakota from my mind and tried to muster up some excitement for my very first studio lesson. This was why I was here. Music.
I wanted to love it again, but my passion for it had snapped in two under the weight of all that disillusionment after the accident.
I’d take the illusion of something over the reality of it any day. Living in a lie was so much easier than drowning in the truth.
My teacher was a Russian-American woman named Mrs. Ivanova who appeared to be in her sixties with kind eyes, a kind smile, and a kind voice.
The warmth she exuded was a nice change of pace.
She had me play something for her so she could get a feel for my level, so I chose a Chopin piece that was originally meant for piano but had been adapted for the violin.
It was one of my dad’s favorites, and it never failed to stir up a deep sadness every time I played it.
But it was bittersweet, because it also made me feel closer to him—or closer to a time when he was still here. When everyone was still here.
Mrs. Ivanova praised me and started me on a Beethoven sonata to work on over the course of the semester, and by the time our lesson was over, I was feeling lighter than I had in days.
I had another music class in the afternoon, so I kept my violin with me when I went to the library to study for a bit.
My pulse quickened when my phone vibrated, and I gritted my teeth.
Don’t look. Don’t you dare touch that phone, Reese. Ignore it.
I was able to ignore it for all of five seconds before I unlocked my phone and read the message.
Asshole:
Your shirt’s on backwards
I looked down, then pulled the collar of my shirt open. Sure enough, the tag was in the front.
How the hell did he know?
I quickly looked around me, but there was nobody here. Unless Dakota was spying on me through the books on the shelf, he’d just seen me at some point today and decided that now would be a good time to get a rise out of me.
I didn’t respond, put my phone on silent, and shoved it in my bag.
I refused to let him elicit any kind of reaction. I didn’t know what game he was playing, why he was being so nice one minute, mean the next, and nice again. It was dizzying.
I glanced around to make sure no one else was here, then yanked my shirt off and put it back on the right way.
I tried to drop this class, but unfortunately—very, very unfortunately—I needed the credit and it was a requirement for my major.
I’d gone to see my advisor earlier today to try and get into a different class, but she’d very kindly yet firmly told me that wouldn’t be possible—and not just because the semester was already well underway.
I was pissed off and disappointed, but there was nothing I could do about it aside from dropping out of school entirely, which wasn’t an option.
But fuck if I hadn’t spent way too long debating if I should.
I did not want to perform in front of people. Why the fuck was that requirement? For a composition class? It’s not like it was orchestra, which I’d deliberately avoided for this very reason.
The performance would be at the end of the second semester, so it was still a ways away, but just the thought of it filled me with a cold, sinking dread.
Maybe I could ask the professor if I could skip that part entirely?
But…then he’d ask me why, and I’d have to tell him.
Because when I was thirteen, my mom was driving me to a state festival to compete against the top violinists in Massachusetts and halfway there a semi-truck’s tire burst in front of us and it lost control and so did we and she and my sister died while I lived, which my dad resented me for until he ended up driving off a bridge after a few too many drinks and ever since then I can’t perform in front of anyone because I feel like someone will get hurt even though that’s not very rational but rational doesn’t matter when it comes to trauma. Does that answer your question, sir?
He’d probably just stare at me like I was crazy.
I wasn’t sure there was any excuse I could think of that would be good enough to get me out of the performance requirement. I wasn’t even sure the truth would get me out of it.
I didn’t know what my options were here, but there was still time to figure it out.
I’d come to class early today so I could get a seat far away from the one Dakota had been in last time. I didn’t want to be anywhere near him, not any more than I had to. I wasn’t sure who he’d be today and I didn’t feel like getting told to fuck off again.
I sat at the very front of the room with my hood up, praying that Dakota wouldn’t notice me.
And he didn’t. Or if he did, he didn’t come sit next to me.
On the off chance he didn’t recognize me with the hood up, I didn’t look back once, and when class started, my shoulders sagged in relief. For forty minutes, I tried to pay attention to the professor, to take notes diligently.
But then he said, “Okay, we’re gonna stop the lesson a little early today so you and your partner can get together for a bit to work on your projects. Please turn in your planning papers by the end of the period.”
Dread curled around my bones, and instead of going to join Dakota wherever he was, I approached the professor.
“Excuse me, sir?”
He looked up at me from where he was sitting at his desk. “Hm?”
“I was wondering if it would be possible to change partners, I don’t really think mine’s a good fit.”
He studied me impassively, then set his pen down and leaned back in his chair. “And who’s your partner?”
“Dakota. Voss.”
He mouthed ah, then drummed his fingers on his desk and gave me a pitying smile. I hated it. “And why aren’t you two a good fit? Did something happen?”
Because I’d seen his dick. Because he’d told me to fuck off and it had hurt my feelings more than I wanted to admit. Because I’d embarrassed myself over and over again with him.
There were so many reasons that weren’t really appropriate to voice, so I just said, “Well, he’s my roommate and I just think it would be better to work with someone who’s…not.”
The most terrible reasoning ever, and I already knew by the way he was nodding that I wasn’t going to get a new partner.
Damn it, I should’ve thought this out beforehand.
“I’m sorry but there won’t be any changes to partners, and unless there is a valid reason you can’t work together, I’m just going to suggest you try and get along with him. He’s quite gifted, you know.”
I knew he was gifted, but that had nothing to do with why I didn’t want to work with him.
“Okay. Thank you for your time.” I smiled and turned around, dropping my smile as soon as I was facing the room.
And when I saw Dakota had taken a seat at the desk next to mine—and pushed our desks together—I tried counting to ten in my head when our eyes met.
I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting, but it wasn’t the intense, pensive expression he was wearing.
No smile.
No amusement in his eyes.
He was just watching me with his head slightly tilted, like he was trying to figure something out.
There was nothing to figure out. He could go figure out his mood swings.
I ripped my gaze from his and went back to my desk, then flipped to an empty page in my notebook.
The smell of cigarettes and something sweet invaded my senses when he leaned toward me, and I wished it was something I could physically push away.
“Hey. I’m really sorry about—about talking to you like that. I didn’t mean to—to be so harsh.”
Every one of my muscles tensed up as I bit down on my bottom lip. Had I already forgotten how that deep, scratchy voice had a disturbing way of getting under my skin?
Apparently I had.
I set my pencil down. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it. Let’s work on this.”
“Yeah, but I just thought you should know—”
“Dakota,” I said softly, holding his gaze. “It’s seriously fine. Let’s just get this done.” I just needed to focus on finishing this as quickly as possible, and then I could leave. “What kind of music do you want our focus to be? What’re you best at?”
I already knew he was best at classical, but I didn’t want him to know that I knew.
He shrugged. “We could go classical or modern, it doesn’t really matter.”
It kind of did matter because this project was thirty percent of our grade.
“Okay. Well who’s your favorite composer?”
“Tchaikovsky. Who’s yours?”
“Beethoven,” I said. Classical was what I’d grown up learning, so it worked out perfectly.
Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe we wouldn’t have to spend too much time together to write something.
Or, better yet, maybe I could just write it on my own and tell him he didn’t need to do anything, that I could just pretend he’d helped.
Yeah.
That was a perfect plan.
“Alright. Let’s do something classical-inspired then, maybe with a slight modern influence?”
I glanced over at him, but he was rifling through his backpack for something.
“So…what key do you want to do it in?”
“I don’t really have a preference.”
Not really helpful. “Okay…how about E minor?”
“Sure. Whatever you want, Reese.”
The way he said that in his scratchy, deep voice raised goosebumps on my arms.
I gritted my teeth and drew in the clefs, then put four-four for the time signature for now. Next came the notes on the empty bars for E minor, and—
I glanced over at Dakota, then did a double take. “What are you doing?”
Exasperation and disbelief had me gaping at him as he drew a bunch of squiggly lines on blank paper.
“Um…It’s my…” He trailed off and started shaking his leg.
I was so confused. “Where’s your sheet paper?”
“Ah, gentlemen! I meant to have a word.”
I looked up at Professor Hawkins, who stood in front of us. Had he been watching us? I mean, his desk was only a few feet away, so probably.
He leaned forward and said, “Reese, I thought you should know that Dakota is very gifted, but can only play by ear. He’s unable to read traditional sheet music and has gotten special permission to utilize the method he came up with.
His talents are performance-based, so he also takes tests aurally rather than written.
Please be patient with him, Mr. Walker. I’m very excited to see what the two of you come up with. ”
What…? I glanced over at Dakota, who was leaning back in his chair, watching me.
Always watching me.
I met Professor Hawkins’ eyes and smiled. “Okay. Thanks for letting me know, this should be, um…fun.”
“Lovely.” The professor smiled and went back to his desk.
So what was I supposed to do now?
I gestured at the paper he’d been working on and said, “I’m sorry, I should’ve— I mean, I just wasn’t expecting…that.”
Wow.
I hung my head in my hands as my face burned with embarrassment.
“It’s okay, you didn’t know.” There was a warm amusement in his voice, and for whatever reason, that comforted me. He sounded like his normal self again, and I felt like…
I felt like fucking crying. I hadn’t been ready for this rollercoaster of emotions that Ashbrook was taking me on. I hadn’t been ready for someone like Dakota Voss.
Sometimes I really wished I could disappear.