Chapter 30 #2
‘Quinn has a chip on his shoulder about a beautiful American girl coming in and challenging his preconceptions. What a wanker.’
Wait, did he just call me beautiful?
‘I’m pretty worried about the Bleak House paper,’ I admit, trying and failing to relax. ‘It’s due a week from Wednesday and the book is a beast. You said you took this class last year, right?’
‘For my sins.’
‘Do you still have your course notes? It doesn’t matter how much I study, it feels like I’m getting everything wrong. It might help to see someone else’s perspective.’
‘They’re around somewhere, I’ll see if I can dig them up.’
He’s vague as we turn the corner towards the Goldbeck Theatre, grand and majestic, floodlights positioned all around the landmark building to cast it in a romantic, honeyed hue.
Right outside the front door, I see Alice, Jenna, Michael and Ethan.
There’s a dissonance to seeing them together; Ethan belongs in one basket and my friends in another.
Ethan is Marshall and biscuits and everything I’ve been trying to leave behind.
Alice and the others are all the things I want from my future.
Mixing them together feels like a bad idea.
He could be telling them anything. He could be telling them I’m a friendless loser who hooked up with his awful teammate even though I didn’t.
He could be telling them I hooked up with him.
‘Evening all.’ Michael raises a hand to greet us as Oliver releases my hand and jogs up the front steps. I follow, a couple of steps behind, feeling nauseous.
‘Hey, Mia,’ Ethan says. He’s wearing a blue henley that hugs his shoulders and his hair is brushed back, letting his intense green eyes shine.
‘Ethan,’ I mumble, gravitating over to Oliver’s side.
‘Let’s get this over with so we can go and get pissed,’ Jenna mutters as Alice hands her a ticket. ‘The things we do for our friends.’
‘Y’all are crazy.’ Ethan gives them both a flashy grin as he accepts his ticket. ‘I was listening to the piece this afternoon, it’s sick. I can’t wait to hear what they do with it.’
Jenna shakes her head with disappointment.
‘No, Ethan, you’re sick. The last time Bryn dragged us out on a school night, we sat through two whole hours of experimental jazz written by a former student who bribed the orchestra to play it and not a single soul aside from us showed up.
And no, I have not forgiven him, so thanks for asking. ’
He ducks his head but not before I see the small smile playing on his lips and it’s totally infectious. Well, it is for me. Not so much for Jenna.
‘Can we please go and find our seats?’ she grumbles. ‘The sooner we get started, the sooner it’s over.’
There is a bar in the Goldbeck Theatre, but much to Jenna’s audible dismay, it is not open tonight. Instead, there’s a water fountain or orange juice, not exactly the most rock and roll night of our lives.
‘Good tutorial?’
I’m filling a paper cup with water when Ethan appears, turning his thousand-watt beam on me. Passing him the first cup, I pour myself another, eyes on Oliver.
‘How interested are you in The Spanish Tragedy by Thomas Kyd?’
‘Super interested now I know it exists.’
‘Then it was fascinating. Next week we get to Christopher Marlowe, and he died in a bar room brawl so you know that’s going to be good. How was practice?’
‘Aced it.’
He downs the water, crushes the cup then tosses it into a trash can with a tidy lay-up shot. Exactly the kind of thing that would usually make me roll my eyes, and I do, but I can’t help but smile at the same time.
‘If by aced it, you mean you’re trying to kill us then I’m happy to confirm.’ Michael pops up over my shoulder and pours water for himself and Jenna, and I really, really wish I knew what was going on with the two of them but I don’t ask in case it’s awkward. If they wanted me to know, I’d know.
‘He’s whipping us into shape whether we like it or not. And just to be clear, I don’t like it. I’d be perfectly happy finishing the season mid-table if it means I don’t have to do ladder runs ever again.’
‘You’re a disgrace.’ Jenna shakes her head. ‘You should be ashamed to put on the Hemden goalkeeper shirt.’
‘I am. Navy blue is not in my colour palette according to you.’
‘It’s not my fault you’re an autumn.’
‘Okay, kids, move it along. I want to get good seats so we can see Bryn.’ Alice holds out her arms to move us all into the auditorium but it’s like herding cats. Michael cuts away to the bathrooms, Jenna turns back for more water and Oliver stands still, glowering at me and Ethan.
‘Where’s best to sit?’ I ask him, moving directly between the two of them before either of them can escalate things. ‘Front, middle or back?’
‘Centre middle for the best sound,’ he answers begrudgingly. ‘My band played here at the end of last term, end of year concert thing. I came in beforehand and tested the acoustics.’
‘You’re in a band?’ Ethan throws an arm around my shoulders and my eyes widen as I push it right off. ‘What kind of music do you play?’
‘It’s difficult to describe to someone without a musical background. I’d say a combination of post-industrial noise rock and folk punk.’
‘Huh?’
‘I wouldn’t expect you to get it.’ Oliver winks at me, like I’m in on whatever joke he’s making. ‘It’s pretty intellectual.’
Arms crossed, Ethan scoffs.
‘What’s the name of this intellectual post-industrial noise rock meets folk punk band?’
‘We play under my name.’
‘Of course you do.’
‘I see an empty row with our names on it,’ I say brightly, leading Alice by the hand and hoping everyone else follows. ‘Better move quick before someone steals it!’
Almost all the rows are empty but that doesn’t feel like something worth mentioning.
‘Those two need to bang it out or something,’ Alice mutters as we make our way down the left-side aisle. ‘Oli really has taken against your boy.’
‘Not my boy. Ethan rubs people up the wrong way, it’s not Oliver’s fault.’
‘Please let the record show I did not say he could rub me the wrong way if he wanted.’
‘Gold star for you. Such restraint.’
She squeezes her eyes shut and gives me a cheesy grin. ‘While I’m in your good books, can I ask for a favour? I got my schedule mixed up and took a shift at Members tomorrow night. Any chance you could cover for me?’
I should say no. I should concentrate on work. But friends help friends out when they need them.
‘Sure thing. Seven until close?’
She nods and plants a huge kiss on my cheek. ‘You’re the best, thank you, and you know I can always cover for you if you need it.’
‘Got it,’ I tell her, even though I know in my heart I would never ask. I hate to be a burden.
Alice shuffles down the row and I follow, Oliver behind me, Jenna and Michael bringing up the rear. Ethan has disappeared.
‘I’m going to run out to the loo before it starts,’ Alice hisses in my ear. ‘Safety wee. Do you need to go?’
‘No.’
I don’t know what I need. I am no longer in charge of my senses as Oliver settles into the seat beside me, crossing his long legs at the knee.
He smells just like he did that night outside the bar when I wore his jacket.
When my eyes skirt over in his direction, I can see him tapping his fingers against his thigh, nails clipped short, and his foot bouncing up and down impatiently.
Is it hot in here or is it just me? The orchestra is tuning up while I stare blankly ahead, my mouth too dry, my tongue too large.
Every time I think I’ve gotten used to talking to him, I am wrong.
There are a million obvious things we could chat about, our classes, his music, the bop on Saturday, it doesn’t have to be that deep, but every time I try to formulate a question, it sounds so stupid in my own head, I can’t get the words out.
‘They’re not bad musicians,’ Oliver leans over to say into my ear, sending a storm of shivers sparkling down my spine.
‘Their problem is a lack of inspiration. Bryn’s a brilliant violinist but every time I try to get him to try something new, he won’t have any of it. He would’ve made a fantastic bassist.’
As if he heard his name, Bryn raises his bow in our general direction from his seat on the end of the row of violinists.
Overhearing would be impossible in this space.
The Goldbeck is so grand with its high ceiling, rows of velvet-covered chairs and impressive stage.
The building has been here for more than two hundred years but the inside has clearly had a makeover since then.
On the stage, Bryn stands to allow another violinist by, a girl I recognize from the junior year abroad welcome meeting.
He hasn’t mentioned an American in the orchestra but Bryn rarely offers information that isn’t requested.
He’s very sweet but so shy, the opposite of the rest of his friends.
When he does decide to say something, I always pay attention.
One thing I’ve learned about him, Bryn isn’t the sort of person who speaks just for the sake of it.
The girl, Kennedy, I think, gives him a filthy look as she takes the seat next to his.
Looks like they aren’t exactly besties. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t mentioned her.
‘I didn’t miss anything, did I?’
Ethan flops into Alice’s vacant seat on my right side, shuffling around to get comfortable.
‘Have they started yet?’ Oliver returns. ‘No, obviously not.’
‘That’s Alice’s seat,’ I say, quiet but urgent. ‘She went to the bathroom.’
‘And now she’s outside, talking to some guy. She can sit next to me, there’s a ton of seats, Mia.’
The lights in the auditorium dim as the conductor walks onto the stage, the handful of people sitting in front of us clapping as he takes a bow.
‘And so it begins,’ Michael intones, two seats down.
Stuck between Ethan and Oliver, I shrink down into my seat, squeezing my legs together to avoid touching either one.
Not an easy task as Ethan struggles to keep his long legs carefully constrained in the small amount of space in front of him and Oliver switches his crossed legs, his right thigh pressing against mine.
My skin burns through the thin fabric of my skirt, a vintage floral maxi that buttons all the way down the front.
I’d left it unbuttoned from mid-thigh down which felt fine when I left my room earlier, but now I feel completely naked.
Every violinist except for Bryn starts to play, slowly at first, and even though I don’t know much about this kind of music, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
The pace starts to pick up, other instruments joining in, until everyone else stops and it’s just Bryn, just for a moment, before the rest of the orchestra joins in, backing him beautifully.
Ethan looks like he’s enjoying it too, sitting forward to lean over the seat in front.
The corners of his mouth quirk upwards in a soft smile, head bobbing in time with the music.
He turns back to me and I cut my eyes away, as though I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t.
Settling back in his seat, he leans in towards me, brushes my hair back over my shoulder and cups his hand around my ear.
As Bryn continues to play, eyes closed, lost in the music on stage, I realize I’m shaking.
‘He’s good,’ Ethan whispers excitedly. ‘Really good.’
A nod is the best I can do in response as Ethan breaks away, stretching out both of his arms along the backs of the chairs on either side of him.
The empty seat saved for Alice, and mine.
His fingers curl around my chair, finding the top of my arm and lightly grazing the skin.
Instant goosebumps. On my other side, Oliver’s head jerks around and sees Ethan’s hand, barely an inch away from his own shoulder.
He turns back to the stage, but the set of his jaw has hardened, and it feels as though I’m sitting next to a statue.
I have no idea what to do. Demanding Ethan move his arm would be a total overreaction.
He’s a tall guy, he’s stretching, it’s no big deal.
If I say anything, it turns nothing into something.
But if I don’t say anything, Oliver might get the wrong idea.
The music swells on stage and just as I’m about to tell Ethan to move his damn arm, Oliver’s hand shifts, hovering over my thigh before settling just above my knee.
My throat tightens, my mouth hangs open and I am so incredibly aware of my entire body, I freeze up completely.
I’m barely breathing, so worried that if I make any kind of move whatsoever, he’ll take his hand away.
And he can’t. Ever. I’d rather stay in this seat, watching this orchestra for the rest of my life.
There’s no way to mistake this. Guys don’t touch their female friends’ legs like this.
Do they? No, they definitely don’t. This is not something I’m imagining or fantasizing about, this is something that is happening, right now, out in the real world where people can see.
People we know. Oh God, is Michael looking?
Is Jenna? I can’t decide if I’m thrilled or embarrassed.
I do know I’m glad Alice isn’t here to comment.
I don’t want to know what Ethan is thinking.
After what feels like a hundred years, I work up the confidence to look over at Oliver.
He squeezes my leg, and I am a mess. A hot, melting mess.
I think I smile at him, it’s impossible to know exactly what my face is doing, but as long as I don’t look constipated, I’ll be okay.
And now I’m thinking about being constipated and trying to remember when I last went to the bathroom.
Why is my brain like this? Oliver doesn’t move his hand.
Instead, he leans in towards me, just very slightly, enough for his shoulder to brush against Ethan’s hand, which, as if by magic, retracts back into his lap.
‘We should go for a walk after this,’ Oliver says, not as quietly as he could. ‘There’s a gorgeous full moon.’
I nod, even though I’d told myself I wouldn’t stay out late tonight.
A walk doesn’t have to mean late, though; as long as I’m home before eleven, there will be plenty of time to catch up on my reading.
And until then I force myself to sit back and try to relax, the weight of Oliver’s hand heavy on my leg.
This is what I wanted.
So why does it feel so weird?