I automatically regret it because the moment I do, Rhys passes by my desk, dropping the syllabus on the corner. Our eyes lock, and despite not wanting to show any reaction to him, I swallow hard, causing the corners of his lips to move just enough for me to notice. He probably believes I’m thinking of our brief encounter before formally meeting last week. And while I’m sure there are—judging by the number of female gazes that follow him longer than necessary as he finishes doling out paperwork—plenty of women who would easily react to him, sixty-five percent of my response is rooted in something entirely different.

As both Professor Cameron and Rhys introduce themselves and start to go over the syllabus, Nathan gives me a look from across the aisle. “He’s alright, I guess,” he whispers, mimicking my nonchalant words from a few minutes ago. “I’ll pretend I didn’t see your face light up the second he opened his alright mouth.”

“If she doesn’t Leonidas kick you, I will,” I promise sweetly, and his shoulders shake with silent laughter. He lowers his gaze back down to the bullet point on attendance.

“You’re still leering at him,” Nathan whispers.

With fifteen minutes to spare, we reach the end of the syllabus, which is the section I dread the most—midterms in October and final exams in December. Sitting behind the desk at the front of the room, Professor Cameron slides her glasses up on her nose and looks over to Rhys, who’s on the stool beside the desk.

“Anything you want to add?” she questions him.

Glancing from Cameron out to us, Rhys tilts his head to the side, examining everyone carefully with his piercing blue-green eyes. When they skim over me, I feel a jolt in my chest. I look away just as he clears his throat.

“I know most of you’ve already been fortunate enough to meet Professor Cameron,” he begins, and I bite my lip when Nathan snorts just loud enough for me to hear him, “but since we’ll be together all semester and, hopefully, next, I want to know more about each of you. I’ll start. From the syllabus you already know I’m Rhys Delane. I’ve been a student here for almost five years, since I transferred from Georgetown as a sophomore.”

Rhys starts to say something else, probably something about himself, but then he rubs his hand thoughtfully over his mouth, and points to one of the girls in the very front row. “How about you? Who are you and why’d you pick this place? What’s your goal?”

She giggles—actually giggles—and then says, “I want to teach music.”

After a few more of my classmates have introduced themselves, Rhys focuses his attention on me. Blatantly. I feel every eye in the room turn in my direction. There’s a part of me that wants to pull the woven fedora I put on this morning as far down over my head as it’ll go, but I manage to face his questioning gaze head on.

“And you?” he asks.

“Me,” I breathe. What does he expect me to say? Hell, there’s so much I could say, want to say. But the first thing that comes out is, “I don’t know.”

His eyebrow jerks up. “You don’t know your name? What you did before you came to this program? Or what—”

“My name is Evie Miller, and I wreck things.” Before he can respond, I look around at all the confused faces and immediately add, “But I’m working on fixing everything. Singing has always been something that’s therapeutic for me. It’s what I’m good at, but I know I’ve got a lot of work to do while I’m here.”

“I see,” Rhys says, his stare unwavering, sending fire to scorch my skin.

“Yes.” I try like hell to smile as I look away from him again, coming eye to eye with Professor Cameron. Her chin is propped in her hands, and she’s leaned forward, listening to me intently. I return my gaze to Rhys and tell him confidently, “So my goal is short term: Pass finals this year. I don’t want to be the girl who screws everything up anymore.”

He stares at me for a moment longer before dipping his head into a nod and moving his attention to Nathan, who turns out to be from right outside of Las Vegas and a bit of a piano prodigy, from what I manage to make out from his humble introduction.

As we leave class together, he brushes off the fact that he almost decided to go to Julliard, so I quickly change the subject. “You moved from Vegas to come to Virginia?” He nods, and I snort. “I’m guessing that by now you realize that winter in this place over the last few years made Elsa’s wrath look tame, right?”

“Whatever.” He throws his head back and releases a laugh. “We lived in Michigan until I was five, so this is kid stuff.” Before we reach the steps to go to the exit, a male—and impossibly undeniable—voice calls out my name. I stop in my tracks.

“Not only is he alright, but he’s also personally summoning you,” Nathan teases, lifting his eyebrow. “I’ve got to head to my next class, but I’ll see you around.”

“I’ll be around,” I say a little too brightly. I keep my back turned on Rhys, trying to even out my breathing, to think clearly, before I turn around to face him. When I do, he’s a few feet away from me near a bulletin board. My legs tremble as I walk over to him.

“What do you need?” I ask lamely.

“I sent you a message to your student email about lessons, but I wanted to make sure you received it before this afternoon. Does four o’clock today in Practice Room four on the basement floor work for you?”

I know I should make up my mind, but I’m still wishy washy about Rhys’ role in my future. When I speak, though, I can’t bring myself to tell him that I’m not sure I can work with him and the exact reasons behind my indecision.

Coward.

I’m a big, freaking coward.

“Yeah,” I breathe, “Four o’clock is perfect.”

“Good. See you then.” As he starts to walk off in the opposite direction, he gives me one more look, staring at the top of my head for a long time.

“What?” I demand, causing him to grin. I shouldn’t have said anything because he strides back over to me, leaving only a few inches of space between our bodies. From where I’m standing, I decide that his eyes are definitely more green than blue, and that his lips look entirely too soft. Not only is he gorgeous, but he also smells like trouble—some cologne that’s sexy and exotic and ...

Ugh. What the fuck am I thinking?

“What is it?” I repeat.

“This is the third time I’ve seen you with a hat on. I’m trying to figure out if this is a regular occurrence or if I’ve just been unlucky.”

“Unlucky?”

“I told you—I like seeing your eyes.”

I swallow back the lump forming in my throat. “How many times have you fed that line to girls on campus?”

Shaking his head, he laughs. “Just the one who wore a damn hat around everywhere she went.” Giving me an unapologetic final smile, he adds in a professional voice, “Don’t forget, four o’clock.”

“Sure.”

As I walk down the steps, breathing shallow breaths, I once again try to wrap my head around what twisted stroke of fate brought us to the same place at the same moment in time, knowing I won’t forget our lesson this afternoon even if I spend all day trying to drill it out of my brain.

I just won’t be going.

And for the next ten days, until my second lesson with Professor Cameron in her office on the following Wednesday, this is how my relationship with Rhys plays out. We see each other every Monday and Wednesday in class and in the hallways of the music building, but I miss each of our lessons—three in all so far. He doesn’t confront me on why; he just gives me a shrug or a nod when I approach him to spout off some bullshit excuse about forgetting or something coming up.

But when Professor Cameron interrupts my lesson for the third time in fifteen minutes, she’s clearly irritated. Shutting off the metronome, she takes off her glasses and massages her fingers over the bridge of her nose.

“That was horrible. We have more work to do than I thought,” she says bluntly.