The first question was about the four basic triads, and I stifled a snort when I remembered the way Noah explained them using diagrams he made on flash cards. I filled in the four definitions with ease.
The next question asked about circle chord progression, and I smiled. This one clicked when we were quizzing each other in the music room.
After that was identifying intervals, which I’d done ten times over beneath my and Noah’s tree.
Then came rhythm and meter, chords, and scales.
My smile widened, and Noah’s pen didn’t get a second of rest for the remainder of the test.
CHAPTER34
A Birthday
Dear Diary,
Can you keep a secret?
I mean it. If you tell anyone… let’s just say diaries don’t hold up well under water torture.
Anyway, about the secret…
I got anAon my Music Theory midterm.
I DID IT! It happened. Slade even double-checked and promised he wasn’t playing tricks on me. I texted a picture to my mother, so hopefully that’s the last I’ll hear from her on the matter. Fat chance, though.
But Noah doesn’t know yet, so keep your trap shut. I’m gonna surprise him with cheesecake tonight to celebrate. It’s his favorite.
Also, I need to talk to you about Oliver Bishop later. It’s important.
I’m so happy,
Emma
* * *
Text from the Morning of the Midterm
Oliver Bishop: Good luck on your test. Of course I remember you—how could I forget the girl who thought we met in a dream? Let me know if you want to celebrate after acing your midterm. I know a killer little French place.
* * *
Life after passing Slade’s midterm was golden. Noah and I spent our free time together working on our duet or cooking at his place or hanging out on the quad by our tree. I’d started sleeping over at the duplex when we had plans—mostly to avoid the whole sock-situation with Teresa but also just because I wanted to.
But something I didn’t expect was Noah’s continued furtiveness. After meeting Julian, I’d never seen the vet student again, let alone any of Noah’s other secret friends. While I didn’tfeellike a dirty little secret anymore, I hated the feeling of uncertainty every time Noah mentioned meeting up with his friends without inviting me along.
His phone had a habit of ringing at all times of the night. After a few weeks of sleepovers, he still excused himself from the room before answering. I was determined to trust him, but the tiniest grains of doubt crept in no matter how many times he assured me it was business.
I woke up once in the middle of the night, and he was nowhere to be found, only to magically reappear the next morning with a catering-sized traveler of coffee. If it was supposed to distract me… well, it worked.
I took the opposite approach. Aside from texting Finn andthinkingabout texting Oliver back, I basically refused to answer my phone at all. Turns out having a boyfriend was the perfect excuse for screening my mother’s calls. And emails. And texts.
The Noah Fund grew slow and steadily. Taking out the damages for a couple more catering snafus, plus food to survive, I was up to a whopping total of eighty-three dollars. Just one or two more catering gigs, and I’d have enough to surprise him with a new pen.
November arrived with a cooling breeze and more pockets of rain, but I found myself unable to keep still because the best day of the year was quickly approaching. November 7th.
My birthday.
I didn’t have many fond birthday memories growing up in Kansas. Most were spent performing Chopin and Beethoven for my parents’ friends at adult-only parties they hosted. Sometimes there was cake, but my mother watched my figure from an early age, so it wasn’t for me. Eventually, my idea of a good birthday was an entire day where my father pretended I didn’t exist.
