Page 72 of Filthy Elites

Isabelle doesn’t ask me the reason. Having met my mother, she can guess.

I haven’t played this in a long time, but I haven’t forgotten the notes. My hands are clammy, and the butterflies in my stomach take me back to the moment before I was about to meet Isabelle for the first time. I stop the memory from taking complete shape in my mind, or I’ll lose my bravado.

When the first notes echo in the room, it hurts more than I thought possible. I can’t hold her stare, so I close my eyes and try to forget that my world is crumbling, that the girl I spent half my life worshipping and then hating is now beyond my reach.

The irony is not lost on me. I had to lose any chance I had with her to realize I’ve been in love with her all this time.

The song is only three minutes long, but it seems like an eternity has passed when I finish. I lower the violin and take a deep breath before I dare to look at her again. And she’s in tears.

“Was it that bad?”

She shakes her head. “No. It was beautiful.”

“I wrote it for you. You were the muse.”

Her body shakes as she releases a shuddering breath. “What did I do to you to change how you felt about me?”

Unable to hold her stare, I glance at the poster on the wall behind her. “You treated me like shit.”

“What? I wouldn’t do that to anyone.”

“Well, you did to me. I came to see you right before you were about to perform. I could tell you were nervous, so I said you had nothing to worry about because you were perfect.”

I flick my eyes to her again. She’s staring at me, wide-eyed, as if I were telling a story about someone else.

“You started yelling, called me a filthy liar, and then shoved me against the wall before storming off. I was so shaken that when it was my time to perform, I fucked up royally. Not only didn’t I win the apprenticeship with Carlos Ferrera, I became a joke. I couldn’t get into any important program afterward.”

Her expression crumples, and then she hides behind her hands. “Jason, I’m so sorry. I have no memory of that.”

“I know now that you don’t.”

She looks at me again. “How do you know? I could be lying.”

“But you aren’t. I get it now. You were probably having a nervous breakdown. It had nothing to do with me.”

She gets up and walks over. I don’t move even though I’m dying to pull her into my arms and crush my lips to hers.

She frames my face between her hands and stares deep into my eyes. “Thank you for that beautiful song.”

“You’re welcome. I guess this is the part where you say goodbye.”

Frowning, she shakes her head. “I told you I’m done running.”

“That doesn’t mean a goodbye isn’t imminent.”

“Are you going to give up on me just like that?”

“This isn’t a game to my anymore, Isabelle. I’m sorry you had to see that insane wall, I’m sorry I was so terrible to you when you got here. I’m letting you go without a fight because that’s what you do when you love someone. You set them free.”

She jolts back. “You love me?”

Shit. I can’t believe I went all emo on her and confessed everything.

I grin. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that if a boy picks on you, it’s because he secretly likes you?”

“No, she’d never say anything that stupid.”

I shrug. “Well, it’s true in my case.”

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