Page 23 of Counterpoint and Harmony

Chapter Fourteen

Canon:a theme that is repeated and imitated and built upon, creating a layered effect

Charlie

Damian stands in the entrance to the suite, blinking at me.

I stand there too, trying to absorb every detail about him. His faded T-shirt, the way his jeans mold to his legs, his hands clenching at his sides making the veins pop under his tan skin. His hair is pulled back in a low ponytail like always, and it looks like he didn’t bother to shave today. He does that sometimes. Or at least he did last semester.

When he doesn’t move, I offer a tentative smile and take a step toward him. “Is … is this okay? You said the other day about how it’s nicer to be in the same room. And we’ve been talking more. I thought …” I flop my hands around, gesturing at the seating area over my shoulder.

“Why are you here?”

My smile slips, and now I’m worried I maybe made a bad choice. “Well, like I said, I thought it’d be nice to spend time together. In person. And not just talk on the phone. Like we used to.”

“Like we used to,” he echoes. His eyes leave me and examine the room. When he meets my gaze again, it’s with one eyebrow raised, a skeptical look on his face. “Like we used to, Charlie? What exactly does that mean?”

My eyes widen, and I shake my head at his implication. “Like when we’d hang out and do homework and have dinner and talk. That’s all. I didn’t bring you here as some kind of ploy for sex. I know …” I swallow hard. “I know we’re not like that anymore. I just … I miss hanging out with you.” The confession comes out as little more than a whisper. “I don’t have all that many friends. And I’m trying to do a better job of keeping the ones that I have. Life gets lonely doing what I do.”

His face finally softens at that, the line of his shoulders relaxing, and he takes a step closer. Then another. Until he’s standing next to me. “So, what? You just decided to hop on a plane and get a hotel room so we can talk?”

I shrug, turning and heading for the couch, disappointed that my surprise isn’t going over as well as I’d hoped. “Well, it’s my plane, so it’s pretty easy to hop on it whenever I want. And the hotel room’s not that big of a deal either.” I wave a hand airily as I sit in one of the chairs, leaving Damian to choose where he likes on the couch.

When I glance up at him, he’s still standing at the end of the little hallway, blinking at me again. Then he shakes his head slowly as he steps around the couch and takes a seat on the end farthest from me.

“What?”

He looks at me again, studying me, leaning forward so that his elbows are propped on his knees and his hands hang down. “It’s just … when we talk, I feel like you’re still the same girl I met in August, y’know? The one who’d rewrite the accompaniment to Suzuki songs and always wanted to go out for pancakes. And even though I know in some part of my brain that you’re this mega star who everyone wants to be or be with, it’s easy for me to pretend none of that exists. That you’re still just Charlie, and now you happen to live far away. Like maybe you transferred schools or something. But when you say things like that …” He shakes his head again, looking down at his hands. “When you talk about your private plane and getting a suite at the nicest hotel in town, it’s hard to ignore how different our lives are.”

When he lifts his eyes to me again, his gaze is piercing. I open and close my mouth, trying to formulate an answer, a defense, something. But no words come. I don’t know what to say, and I’m not used to being so discombobulated. I almost always have an answer for everything everyone asks me. And while he didn’t ask a question, the implication that I should respond is clear.

Finally, after searching the walls and the ceiling for inspiration, I meet his eyes again and spread my hands, my heart pounding in my ears. “What do you want me to say? Do you want me to continue hiding the rest of my life from you? From what I recall, that didn’t go over well the first time.”

“No.” His answer is immediate, and his face darkens. “No, I don’t want you to go back to lying to me.”

“I never—”

He holds up his hand to cut me off. “Lies of omission are the same. You didn’t tell me. You withheld vital information when I showed you all my cards. Always. I never withheld anything from you.”

Swallowing down my defense, I nod. “Yes. And I’ve apologized for that. Repeatedly. I thought we’d moved past that.”

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, then nods, turning so his back is against the arm of the couch, his knee bent in front of him and his arm hooked around the cushions. “Yeah. We have. It’s just …” He looks around, like he doesn’t know what else to say.

“Look,” I butt in. “I’m sorry. Maybe this was a bad idea. I just thought it would be fun. You said you missed me, so I concocted this plan and roped Lauren into picking you up and bringing you here. I would’ve come and gotten you myself, but that’d risk people finding out I’m here. And they’d connect me to you again, which would mean you could end up in the tabloids too.” With a deep breath, I lean closer to him. “Between you and me, I’m pretty sure the Dean is getting tired of the university police having to keep paparazzi off campus.”

He tilts his head and gives me a quizzical look. “Why do you say that?”

“Oh, well, I’d actually planned on continuing, at least finishing the year. But Dean Andersen made it clear that I wasn’t welcome.”

“That’s why he kicked you out? For someone else selling pictures of you to the gossip sites?” His outrage is genuine and gratifying.

I give him a small smile and tilt my head from side to side. “Not exactly. I don’t think he could legally do that. But he said my presence would endanger the other students, and that he trusted I’d make the right decision.”

This does nothing to calm Damian’s fury. “Are you kidding me? And you just let him bully you like that?”

Again I turn my hands palms up and spread my fingers. “What should I have done? Made life miserable for the entire department, half the school? Professors were already getting calls looking for interviews. They already had your picture. That’s why I told them we were just friends. If I came back, they would’ve tried to make what we had into something tawdry and disgusting. You likely would’ve been painted as an opportunist trying to follow in Gabby’s footsteps, and I would once again be the whore of the music industry.”

Damian splutters, his face turning red and his fists clenching again. “What? I can’t—I don’t—”

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