I stare up from the sheet music on the stand in front of me. “What?”
Releasing a sigh, Professor Cameron stands up from the upright piano situated in the corner of her office and cracks her knuckles. “This is a basic piece. Rhys had me under the assumption that you were progressing quickly with the private lessons and with sight singing, but I’m not entirely sure I believe him. So I want to know what’s going on, and I want to know now.”
Chapter Six
Too stunned to react just yet, I simply stare unblinking across the room as she stares back at me expectantly.
Wait.
What?
Rhys had lied and told her I’ve been coming to my lessons with him? Why would he do that when it’s also his ass on the line? Rolling my tongue over my lips, I pretend to study my sheet music. “It’s coming along,” I say carefully, not wanting to get him in trouble. “Slowly.”
“Slowly,” Professor Cameron repeats, drawing that single word out. She taps her index finger thoughtfully against her sharp chin. “I’m going to check your schedule and then, if your other classes allow it, I’ll speak to Rhys about you taking a third lesson with him on Thursdays.”
Shit.
Another lesson added to the two that I’m already avoiding at all costs.
Wonderful.
After a few moments of awkward quietness between us, Professor Cameron asks me in the gentlest voice I’ve heard her use to date, “You don’t have a problem with Mr. Delane, do you?”
After that first day of class and missing my lesson with Rhys, I fully planned on meeting with her to discuss my issues. I was going to take Kendra’s advice, tell Cameron discretely what my problem was, and hope that she’d understood. That was until I had dinner with both Mac and Nathan—who already knew each other from the music department choir, which is obligatory for all music majors and minors—last Tuesday night.
Even though they knew nothing about my specific situation, their discussion about my advisor’s quick dismissal of what she deemed “petty problems” swayed my plans. Like a coward, I simply chose to avoid the situation instead of confronting it directly.
Now, with Professor Cameron’s frustration at my lack of progress and her preparing to speak to Rhys directly about her dissatisfaction, I realize it’s time for me to do something.
“There’s no problem,” I rush to assure her. “But, I ... I can send an email to Rhys to see if we can make our lessons a little longer.” Closing my eyes for a second, I curse myself for being too stupid to realize this would happen. “If that’s alright with you, of course.”
When I open my eyes, I see that she’s giving me one of her rare smiles—or at least, what closely resembles a smile.
“I can always appreciate initiative, so yes, it’s fine with me. I’ll check in with Rhys as well.” Assuming her seat behind the piano again, she slides her glasses back on and flips to the beginning of the sheet music. “Let’s see if you can sludge through this a couple more times in the next fifteen minutes.”
Flustered, as soon as my lesson is over I search the music building for Rhys. I want to get to him before Cameron has the opportunity to. When I’m unable to find him, I take off for my dorm room, passing by Nathan and promising to text him later along the way. When I reach my room, pausing for just a moment in the doorway to let the air conditioner blow over me, I’m not at all surprised to find Daniel with Corinne. They’ve been spending a lot of time with each other lately—which means she’s had less reason to dig into every detail of my personal life—but I’m reserving my opinion on him.
He hasn’t tried to talk me into going to his room again since that first night, but he reminds me so much of James, my douchey ex, that I can’t help but distrust him.
“Trying out for cross country?” he jokes from his spot on Corinne’s bed where they’re playing some PS3 game. I shoot him a sharp look because the first image that pops into my mind is that of my sister in that red and white cross country tracksuit.
“Evie swears she hates sports,” Corinne states, and Daniel grabs his chest in mock injury.
“You’re killing me, Miller,” he says as I slide down behind my computer chair and flip my laptop open. “Besides, I could’ve sworn I saw you wearing a Duke basketball shirt last week.”
“I like Duke.” I cast a wary glance over my shoulder, not missing the way Corinne flashes a slightly hurt look at him. “Lend me that kickass memory of yours for my world history test tomorrow,” I say jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.
I turn back to my computer. It takes me a few tries to access my campus email—I’ve only checked it once since the first day of class—but once I’m logged in, I see there are two new messages from Rhys, one for each lesson I skipped after the first.
“Let me guess, late assignment?” Daniel asks, and I nod, glad he can’t see me rolling my eyes.
“Tell you what, you let me get this in on time, and I’ll come with Corinne to all your baseball games and show tons of ... school spirit, okay?”
Temporarily placated, Daniel returns his attention to the video game, but I can feel his eyes on the back of my neck as I open Rhys’ first message.
From: [email protected]
Date: Fri, Aug 23, 2013 at 4:42 PM
Subject: Time
It’s now past 4:30 (your lesson started at four, in case you were curious) and I’ve made a list of all the things I could have done with my time while I waited for you to stand me up again.
1. Go to my other job. Yes, I have two. It’s one of those sacrifices you’ll eventually make when you grow up.
2. Clean my apartment. Yet another sacrifice.
3. Get a head start on grading for next week.
4. Are you getting the gist of this yet? Let me know what your plans are for Monday.
In the second email, the one sent Monday around noon, his message is much less scathing—a simple request for me to let him know by three if I’d be at our four PM lesson, otherwise he would assume I didn’t plan to show up.
Staring at the words on the screen, I feel my face heat up at the shame that starts to roll through me. Selfish. Always, always selfish. Hitting reply to the email he sent me two days ago, I type a quick note, Rhys, I was wondering if you might have a chance to talk this afternoon? and then hit send. I barely have enough time to check my Gmail account before I see a new email from him pop up in my campus email.
From: [email protected]
Date: Wed, Aug 28, 2013 at 5:03 PM
Subject: Re: Time
Will twenty minutes from now in PR#4 work for you?
It takes me a minute to grasp that PR#4 refers to the practice room that I should’ve been to at least three times by now. I respond that I’ll see him there. Shutting my computer, I grab my purse and room keys from my bed and head toward the door.
“Oh, you’re already going to dinner?” Corinne asks, her dark eyebrows knitting together. Pausing her video game, she glances down at the phone beside her on the bed. “It’s early, but we can come with—”
“No,” I say quickly, the word a little too harsh even to my own ears. Shaking my head, I backtrack. “I mean, I’m not going to dinner yet. I’ve got to go meet my advisor but after that—say six-ish?”
“Definitely.” Her shoulders sag in relief and as she grabs the controller, she tells me, “Good luck with your advisor. I have Communication Theory with one of her old students, and I’ve heard nothing but absolute horror stories.”
I give her a cool smile, tell her thanks, and wave goodbye to Daniel. Racing back to the music building for the third time today, I go over what I’m going to say to Rhys. In the back of my head, I can hear Kendra’s cool voice of reason telling me that the truth is always nice.