“Yo, Blondie? You high or something?”
The thumping beat increased, pounding faster and faster until I rubbed a hand across my chest in alarmed confusion.
Maybe I had indigestion.
That was when I noticed a blue pen tapping against my desk and the grimy fingernails on the hand gripping it.
“Huh?” My morning articulation had what the college counselor referred to asroom for improvement.
“Is. This. Seat. Taken?” the gruff voice said. I blinked before allowing my gaze to leave his tapping pen and trace up a hairy arm and broad shoulder to annoyed blue eyes glaring back at me.
I eyed the empty seat beside me.
“Well, it looks empty to me,” I said, fighting back a frown. “But I’m not exactly the desk police.”
The grimy-fingered boy sighed, and from the way both his eyes narrowed to slits, I could tell he was not thrilled with my theorizing.
“No need to be a bitch. I was just making sure you weren’t saving it. Forget it.” He continued down the aisle, the scent of something putrid lingering behind.
I bristled at the unnecessary name-calling.
Then I noticed the room had really filled up while I’d been daydreaming. The only regret I felt was that I’d lost my chance for a hot coffee.
“Don’t take it personally,” I muttered to the empty seat he’d abandoned. “You’re better off without him. I’m pretty sure my gym socks smell better than he does.”
A few snickers hinted that my whispering could use a little work, but Cheyenne—a dark-haired girl I’d met during the summer intro courses—turned around with a conspiratorial grin as she pinched her nose. I couldn’t resist beaming back. Still sporting that half-crazed expression, I glanced at the weathered clock looming above the door.
Unfortunately, this was also the moment a well-dressed upperclassman decided to waltz in. He stepped directly into my line of vision, surveying the room with a pair of hazel eyes that locked on mine. From the arch of his brow, it was safe to assume this new arrival thought my smile was meant for him.
And from the small frown gracing his otherwise expressionless face, I’d guess he wasn’t used to it.
CHAPTER2
A Pen
The newcomer’sgaze held mine captive in a way that had the psychotic grin fading faster than it’d appeared. My heart kicked into a gear four times more rapid than the smelly hooligan’s pen-tapping earlier.
It had started with a smile—an albeit deranged one—and sometimes I really wished Cheyenne hadn’t turned around. If she hadn’t, then I never would’ve smiled, and a surprisingly refined-looking college guy wouldn’t have spared me a second glance.
But life was never so kind. I couldn’t stop sneaking glances as he strolled toward the only remaining seat… right next to mine. I regretted getting snarky with Smelly Boy earlier; I’d take smelly boys over heart palpitations any day.
Then the new guy was sitting down, arranging his note-taking supplies, and focusing on his sleek ebony phone as if he hadn’t just incinerated my concentration.
Was he a freaking wizard?
Wearing a dark blazer complimented by a white dress shirt, he made me look like a slob in my casual skirt and top. He looked older than the rest of the class, too—at least early twenties. More man than boy. His angular jaw was a distraction by itself.
“Laptops and phones away,” a new voice said from the doorway. All thoughts of the new guy screeched to a halt as I turned to gape at the middle-aged maestro striding into the room.
Atticus Slade.
My parents and I had attended his concert on campus during a vacation, and I’d handed in my application for Westcroft’s piano program the following morning. It was every piano student’s dream for Slade to choose them for an independent study. He was a legend.
If composers were flowers, he’d be theRafflesia arnoldii. His music was big, bold, and beautiful from far away, but when you were close enough to truly decipher the tonality of his masterpieces, you’d be haunted by the scent of rotting flesh. I found him utterly fascinating.
I couldn’t stop staring.
Professor Slade didn’t spare us a single glance as he approached a podium in the front of the room; hard eyes, tall, and imposing. He owned the professor look with his tweed jacket and glasses.
