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Is this guy for real?
I don’t know what I expected, but this isn’t it. Maybe it was silly.
After all, Sebastian Black is a world-famous rockstar. He’s probably used to people giving him whatever he wants and being happy with taking the scraps he offers them. Oh, I’ve heard the stories online. I just never believed those things. They call him a bad boy of rock ‘n roll who leaves broken hearts in every town he passes. Some call him talented; others say he’s just lucky since he’d been born into a musical family. I always called bullshit on that last one. You could say a lot of things about him, but if there was one thing you couldn’t deny, it was that he was freaking talented, and his success didn’t have anything to do with who his parents were. It was all him, plain and simple.
So why am I so disappointed right now?
I don’t know him. Not really. And to be fair, he doesn’t owe me anything.
And yet…
“Seriously? That’s the best you’ve got?” My brows shoot up. “Birdy?”
“It’s how I see you.”
I lift my chin a tad higher, feeling the heat creep up my neck. “And how is that?”
“Small.” He takes a step closer. I can feel his body loom over mine. The heat radiates off of him as he leans closer. I’m pretty sure that if I lifted my hand, I would be able to touch him—explore the lines of his face and create an image to go along with that voice that haunts my dreams.
“Delicate.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to keep my unseeing gaze steady and calm my heart, but it’s impossible.
“Breakable,” he murmurs, and I swear I can feel his warm breath caress my skin, making the goosebumps rise on my flesh. “Just like a little bird.”
His voice drops lower, the huskiness of his tone making my palms clammy and my heart beat faster.
I open my mouth, unsure how I’ll respond, but I don’t get a chance because Henry lets out a loud growl.
Sebastian’s body goes rigid at the sound, but he makes no attempt to move back. “What’s up with the dog?”
“He’s with me,” I say simply, not in the mood to discuss my blindness with him.
“I can see that, Birdy. I just hadn’t realized dogs are allowed on campus.”
“Dogs aren’t, but Henry is.” My tongue darts out, sliding over my lower lip. “Can you leave?” I ask, not in the mood to discuss this further. “The music rooms are private, and I have it for another half an hour. So I really need to get back to my practi—”
A note rings in the air as he presses one of the keys, and I swear I can feel it all the way to my bones.
“I hardly think you need the practice,” he murmurs. “What was the piece you’ve been working on? I don’t think I’ve heard it before.”
Of course he hasn’t heard it. Nobody except me has, and I wanted it to stay that way.
“It’s just something I’ve been playing with,” I say non-committedly, hoping that if I give him the answer he wants, he might leave me alone.
I’m not sure what it was about him, but being closed off in a room with Sebastian Black unsettled me.
He lets out a soft hum. “It sounded like more than just you playing with it. Most of the stuff that I play with is garbage.”
A loud, unladylike snort escapes me before I can hold it back.
“What?” he asks, clearly not amused by my reaction.
“Nothing.”
Most of the stuffhe’splaying with is garbage? Then what’s with the rest of us mortals? Seriously, after being a fan of his music since he first stepped on the stage, it’s just hard for me to believe that anything that he plays with is garbage.
“Say it, Birdy.”
