Page 30 of Meet Me at the Metro

As though we’re afraid our instructor will take back his offer at a moment’s notice, Connor and I quickly jump up from our seats, gather our things, and hurry out of the classroom.

“He’s going to give me arthritis before I even graduate,” Connor banters. “This is the third bloody essay he’s assigned to us so far, and we’ve only been in his class for a month.”

“But Connor,knowledge is the wing wherewith we fly to heaven,” I tease, mocking one of the most recent Shakespearean-inspired lectures we were forced to sit through.

“Then, I suppose I’ll fly straight to hell because I don’t want it!”

“I’ll fly with you then because I don’t want it either! In fact, let’s make a vow right now.”

“Okay,” he nods, smiling.“What?”

“We vow from this day on to never—ever—be involved in any stage production that evenmentionsthe name Shakespeare.”

“Ha!Easy. Deal!”

We push through the double doors leading to the courtyard outside. Our giggles cut through the quiet and light night air as we walk down the winding stone pavements of campus.

As we fall into an easy, casual stride together, Connor mentions, “I’m heading back to that burger joint tonight if you want to tag along. We can eat, study a little bit, and drone on about ourbelovedthoughts on Shakespeare and his timeless works of literature.”

“Yay, more studying,” I groan, knowing that his offer—aside from the eating portion of it—is the last thing either of us wants to be doing on a Friday night. However, deep down, I know the only way we will make it to the end of this semester is with each other’s help.

“I know. Doesn’t it sound like so much fun?”

“So much,” I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes. “No, but actually, that sounds great. Would you mind if we made a stop really quickly, though? I need to grab a flyer from the music hall.”

“Of course, I don’t mind.”

“But you’re gonna have to lead the way because I have no absolutely no clue where I’m going.”

“This way,” he laughs, nodding his head to the left as he starts to lead us across the lush grass of the courtyard.

It takes several minutes to make it across the campus to the music hall, and when we get there, I assure Connor, “I’ll be right back. It should only take me a second.”

As I push through the doors of the music room and step inside, the lights are on. They cast their white glow against the entirety of the space, making the various golden and silver instruments scattered across the room appear as though they were shining. I begin my search for the flyers I came here for, relieved when I finally find a stack of them waiting for me near the conductor’s podium positioned in front of the rows of arched chairs.

The quiet shuffle of my footsteps is the only sound accompanying me through the room until the hammering of piano keys shatters the silence. The brash sound startles and halts me in place. My ears ring with the indiscernible notes left behind, and I search for where the abrupt commotion came from.

“Oh, fuck me!”

The voice is muffled as it reaches my ears, but it guides me toward the cracked doorway of one of the private practice rooms in the back.

“This is fucking rubbish, is what this is.”

I shouldn’t smile as I recognize the owner of that rugged voice, but I do.

Once again, the space goes quiet, and I do my best to keep my steps and breathing silent as I sneak closer to the door and peek inside. Theo’s back is to me as I inch my head inside, the muscles lining the back of his tattooed arms on full display as his hands trace the ivory and black keys of the electric piano in front of him.

“That can’t be fucking right,” he mutters.

I stand gaping as his hands travel to his hair, clutching the messy, dark-blonde strands tightly in his fingers. I swallow, my throat drying with guilt because this feels intimate—it feels wrong to watch. I really shouldn’t be invading his privacy like this.

I should really just go.

However, Theo’s warm humming shatters that thought completely, freezing me in place as it purrs a heavenly melody while he flips through the music sheets before him. I watch as he draws his penciltightly into his hand, marking the faded lines of the pages furiously as if he’s trying to piece together the notes and chords.

The music sheets.I’ve seen those before...

I admire the way he moves, appreciating how his long, broad fingers move from the sheets of music back to the keys of the piano. The melody he begins to play sounds nearly identical to the one that fell from his lips just moments ago.

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