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“I don’t know, Cassio,” I snap, my voice cracking with emotion. “Why don’t you ask your sister? It sounds like you’re better off practicing with her!”
Cassio stops short, his face stricken, and a chorus of oohs follows me as I storm from the room. Logically, I should know he only said what he did as cover, but suddenly, all my fears and insecurities are boiling at the surface, leaving me as freshly wounded as when he rejected me two years ago.
16
CASSIO
I blew it. Majorly. I could see it written all over Bianka’s face as she whirled on me at the end of class. I could hear the hurt behind her scathing retort as she basically told me to go kiss my sister. I fucking made her cry. I’m sure of it. All because I panicked when Hannah read too far into our kiss–pulse-pounding as it was–and blurted her suspicions to the class.
I didn’t stop to think about how mean my words would come across to the only girl who matters. And I said them in front of all her peers. People she might have to work with on stage in the future. I’m a complete ass.
I search for her all through lunch to try and tell her as much, but she’s nowhere to be found. I don’t see her again until I walk into our History of Musical Theater class. She’s already there, sitting beside Ellie, as usual. The pink rims around her beautiful eyes confirm my suspicion. She’s been crying.
Approaching carefully, I ease into the chair beside Bianka. “Hey,” I say gently.
Ellie tosses me a hesitant glance before avoiding eye contact. Bianka simply shifts to turn her back to me, crossing her arms at the same time. She’s definitely pissed, and rightfully so.
“I’m sorry, Bianka,” I murmur, keeping my voice low so only she can hear.
Tentatively, I reach out to touch her shoulder, desperate to reestablish our connection somehow, but she jerks away from my hand. Agonizing regret lances through my stomach.
“I’m such an idiot,” I say. “I got carried away trying to avoid suspicion. I just panicked since it was Hannah, and she’s the first person who will go blab something to her consigliere father if she finds out about us. But that’s no excuse. I know. Just… I want you to know I didn’t mean a word of it. Honestly, what I said is the farthest thing from the truth. God, kissing you makes my world stand still.” The confession pours from me, leaving a tightness in my chest as I pray she’ll believe me.
She doesn’t respond right away, though her tense shoulders lower slightly, making her appear less defensive than before. Her body shifts minutely back in my direction, but before she can fully decide whether to forgive me or not, Professor Hunt begins his lecture.
He starts talking about the significance of musical composition and the productions that have made history with their songs. He carries on for several minutes, explaining the progression of music through time–how musicals written in certain decades seem to trend in one direction or another.
But I can’t seem to keep my focus or retain his words. My eyes keep straying to Bianka, though she never turns to meet my gaze. Instead, I’m faced with the visual reminder of her tears thatIcaused. It’s agony not knowing if what I said has made any difference to her or not.
Then Professor Hunt turns to the specific musicals with iconic songs. “Often, a single song can lift a musical from what one might consider good entertainment into a masterpiece. Particularly when the singer performs the number exceptionally. Take ‘Defying Gravity’ fromWicked, for example, or ‘Over the Rainbow’ inThe Wizard of Oz. Of course, ‘Singing in the Rain’ is an easy one to identify since the song is right in the musical’s name. But how aboutCats?”
Professor Hunt looks around the room, his eyes lingering on each of his students in turn, and I glance at Bianka out of the corner of my eye. That’s the musical the Arts Department did just this past spring and one of Bianka’s favorites.
“I’m sure you all know that one well from last year. Do any of the songs stand out as the one that made it great?”
Several students raised their hands, and Professor Hunt called on one to my right.
“‘Memory’ was always my favorite. I would guess that,” the girl says.
“Very good,” Professor Hunt agrees. “Elaine Page’s performance of ‘Memories’ springboarded the musical to fame and made that song one of the best-known musical numbers to date.” He pauses for a moment, a mysterious smile spreading across his face. “And I have a little treat for you all today. Miss Bianka Popov, our own Grizabella from last year, has agreed to perform ‘Memory’ for us today. Miss Popov, do you mind joining me?”
Anticipation thrums in my chest as Bianka rises beside me and turns to make her way toward the front of the room. Her eyes flick to mine momentarily, and I’m grateful to see they’re clearer now, more determined and focused than they were before. I can't be sure whether that means she’s accepted my apology or is simply on a mission.
She slides past me without touching me, like she might usually, and my skin tingles from her proximity. Then she’s striding gracefully down the aisle toward Professor Hunt. He takes his place on the piano stool, where he often performs musical numbers to emphasize the point of the day’s lecture.
I never got to see Bianka’s performance last semester, and I sit forward in my chair, excited to hear her voice. It’s been a long time–since freshman year–and I’ve only ever heard it while she was singing with others. But even then, I was captivated by how lovely it was.
Everyone else seems just as keen; the room falls silent and still as Bianka takes her place by the piano. She doesn’t bother with a microphone, which I find impressive in and of itself since her voice will have to carry around a decently large room.
She gives a subtle nod to Professor Hunt, and the song’s beginning notes trickle gently from the piano, filling the room with its melancholic tune. Slowly, the music builds. And then Bianka begins.
Her eyes flutter closed as her shoulders drop, elongating her neck and making her look tall, sophisticated, and more imposing than I would normally think. She always has a presence about her that catches people’s attention, but performing a solo only seems to intensify that.
Suddenly, she’s all I can look at, and my breath catches in my lungs as the first few soul-piercing notes leave her lips. Her voice fills the room, carrying across the space with ease, even though she starts softly.
Goosebumps ripple across my arms at the ringing purity of her tone, and a deep sadness fills me as she sings about days gone by, the loss that has left her devastated and alone, and her longing for a time when she was happy.
I can hardly breathe with the emotion welling up inside me, threatening to shatter my heart into a million pieces. I’ve never heard Bianka sing like this before, so full of passion it makes me want to cry. I’m shocked by her full range as she hits a deep note, the sound rich and throaty.
