Page 27 of A Wish for Us

I stood off the door, shoulders back. “Yeah? And what do you know about—”

“Enough to know that even though you’re carrying a chip the size of Alaska on your shoulder right now, you won’t leave.” He pointed to the room. “This is your arena. You’re just too pissed and hurt to accept it right now.” He shrugged. “You do see it, but you’re fighting it.” The knowing look in his eyes almost brought me to my knees. “You’re a good DJ, Mr. Dean. Lord knows it pays well these days, and I will no doubt see your name in lights in the future. But with the gift you have, you could be a legend onthisstage.” He pointed at the shot of him in the Albert Hall. He sat down. “I suppose the decision will be up to you.”

I stared at the picture for a second, at Lewis in a tux commanding the orchestra playing the music he had created. I felt the lead ball in my stomach, the one that tried to plow through my wall. Whatever lived inside me, that made me this way with music, was clawing to get out. It was getting harder and harder to subdue.

“I hope it will be the latter path you find yourself on, Cromwell. God knows I know what it’s like to live a life with that kind of regret.” He flicked his hand and started up his laptop. “Let yourself out. I have compositions to look at.” He looked at me over his screen. “I’m waiting on your and Ms. Farraday’s outline. I won’t wait forever.”

Prick,I thought as I slammed his office door shut. I was about to turn left to the main exit, but my head turned to the right, toward the sound of a string orchestra. I wandered down the corridor. It was an alternate way out of the building. I let myself believe that as I stopped at the door of the orchestra’s practice room. I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

As the cello took the lead, I let down my walls for a second and let the sound wash over me. A peace I hadn’t felt in years settled through me. I stayed listening as they played Pachelbel’s Canon in D. It wasn’t the hardest piece, and they weren’t the best. But that didn’t matter. It was the fact that it wasbeingplayed that did.

And I was listening. I saw magenta and salmon-pink hexagons as the cello played. Then starbursts of peach and cream, flickered shards of mauve and rose as the violins took the melody. I tasted floral on my tongue and felt my chest pull tight, my stomach building with light as the strings danced and sang.

As the piece finished, I opened my eyes, breathless, and pushed myself off the doorframe. I looked to my left. Lewis was at his door, watching me. A surge of anger lit me up that he was there, seeing me, I rushed out of the building and walked to my dorm. The minute I entered my room, the smell of paint smacked me in the face.

“Shit.” I threw my bag on my bed.

Easton turned from the canvas he was painting on. “Top of the morning to ya.”

I shook my head. “Dick. I’m not Irish. I’m English.” I slumped on mybed, but the minute I did I was restless. Bastard Lewis messing with my head. Bonnie Farraday and her hand on her chest as she read my music was etched into my brain. But not as much as the imprint of her hand on my arm was from last Friday night.

They were pushing and pushing me to breaking point, and I couldn’t friggin’ stand it.

“There’s a difference?”

I rolled my eyes and jumped back off the bed. I looked at the painting he’d done. There was color everywhere. It was blinding. Like Jackson Pollock on crack. “Jesus, East. What the hell is that?”

He laughed and put down his paints. He was covered. He spread his arms wide. “It’s me! How I’m feeling on this fine sunny day.” He came closer. “It’s the weekend, Crom. The world is ours!”

“Tone it down.” I stared at my mixing table and realized that I had bugger all desire to create new mixes right now. “Let’s go get food. I need to get off this campus.”

“I like your style.”

We walked out of the dorm and headed to Main Street. Of course.

“Your mama’s been emailing again,” Easton said as we headed to Wood Knocks. I looked at him, my eyebrows pulled down. He held up his hands. “You left your laptop open. Kept coming on every time she messaged you.”

“Great,” I muttered.

“Got a new stepdaddy, huh?” I gave Easton the side-eye. “Saw it on the subject line.” He smirked. “It’s his birthday near Christmas. She wanted to know if you were going home to celebrate.” I stopped walking and stared at Easton. “Fine!” he said. “That’s all I read. Promise.” He winked at me and smiled.

The answer to that would be a huge no. I wouldn’t be going home for Christmas. Just thinking of her new husband in my dad’s home tore me apart. I was staying far away.

We walked past the park. There were lights and people all over. My eyes narrowed as I tried to figure out what was going on.

“The orchestra concert, or whatever the hell it is, is on tonight,” Easton said. I caught the distant sound of instruments being warmed up. “Bonnie’sgoing, I think. Not quite your scene though, hey, bro? All that classical stuff.” He shook his head. “How anyone sits through that kind of thing is beyond me.”

Bonnie. I hadn’t seen or heard from her all week. She’d been gone from class for the past few days. It was…weird not to have seen her a few rows down. The room almost seemed empty with her gone. She hadn’t texted me either. Not to meet up.

No more asking if I was okay.

I…I didn’t like it.

“He a dick?” Easton asked as we walked into the bar.

I raised my eyebrow, confused. I’d been too busy concentrating on thoughts of Bonnie.

“The stepdad.”

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