Page 32 of Meet Me at the Metro

“You play?”

“A little bit,” he smirks. “Enough to teach you the basics. My dad was a musician and showed me a thing or two.Seriously, let me give you lessons. I’m not a professional or anything, so I’d give them to you for free.”

“No way,” I shake my head adamantly. “I’m not letting you do that. You have enough on your plate with classes as is.”

“And so do you,” he retorts, nudging me with his elbow. “For real, I insist. I’d love to teach you.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to put you on the spot like this. Maybe you should think about it a bit more before—”

“You’re not putting me on the spot, Ellie. I’m offering, and we’re doing this. We can plan weekly lessons after Henderson’s class on Fridays. Is that good for you?”

“I guess,” I agree timidly, feeling guilty but also extremely thankful for his proposal. “Are you sure, Connor?”

“I’m absolutely positive.”

“You’re the best, you know that?” I lean over and squeeze him tight enough that he grunts. We both laugh. “Seriously, I can’t thank you enough.”

“Don’t thank me,” he says humbly. He brushes his rich brown hair away from his brow line as I finally do him the favor of releasing him and smiles. “Anything for you, Ellie.”

Just as he speaks those words, our feet approach the edge of the busy street. The red, blue, yellow, and green lights of the vibrant city cast their glow atop us as we wait together for the crosswalk to give us the signal to proceed.

With the enormous campus now behind us, I do my best to fight the urge to look back toward the music room one last time and curse myself for my reasons for wanting to glance back in the first place. I don’tlet myself, though, because deep down, I know that it would only cause my mind to wander about Theo even more.

And he’s consuming my mind enough as is.

10

IMPENETRABLE WALLS

T H E O

The door slams shut behind me, and I tightly close my eyes, breathing out deeply as I try to settle the tension that Nora left behind and the ache now growing at the back of my head.

My ears listen carefully for the click of the music room doors outside, and when I’m sure that she’s gone for good, I let the mask of indifference I was schooling my features into drop away.

I wouldn’t allow her to see anything but disinterest on my face because moments ago, I saw the faint hint of concern lingering behind her eyes as they took me in, and I couldn’t bear it.

I hated that look. Hell, I’ve seen it expressed in a thousand different ways by countless people in my life since I was 15 years old, but seeing it come from her burned the most. I didn’t want her to worry because I knew her doing so would prompt questions with answers I was not ready to give her.

I’ve managed to deal with my shit mostly on my own so far, and I plan to keep it that way. The noises in my head were loud enough, and I would rather not have to hear the commotion they would stir up on the outside if I found it in me to speak them out loud. I can’t listen to the chaos that would be born from my lips—chaos that I’m afraid would spread to the others around me—because I’m not good at coping with the panic that rises inside of me every time those haunting memories consume my thoughts.

But every time those damn eyes of Nora’s manage to draw me in, I find it hard to ignore that part of myself that begs me to let her in. Because for reasons beyond my comprehension, every interaction with her feels unforced—natural—even the bickering. I felt the absence of her presence like a ghost on my shoulder, one I wanted to acknowledge but felt too scared to.

Fuck.

This is exactly why I’m fighting so hard to maintain indifference to her. Nora doesn’t need to be dragged into my mess because it’smy messto deal with—no one else’s. Especially not hers. I’ve learned the hard way that people don’t stay forever. They leave or move on, whether it be by choice or by fate, and all you’re left with is the painful, nostalgic memories they leave behind.

Quite frankly, I’m tired of losing people, and I don’t need any more ghosts in my life.

Besides, I’ve only had a few interactions with the girl; it would be foolish to cling to those few fleeting moments. How she can manage to come into the picture so effortlessly and form even the tiniest splinters in the rigid walls I’ve spent the last ten years building up is beyond me.

In fact, it’s really not fucking fair.

So I can’t do this.

I couldn’t allow my guards to let themselves down so easily, so I ended up saying the only thing I could think of to get her to get the hell away and stop the palpable tension lingering between us.

“You can close the door on your way out.”

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