Page 5 of Counterpoint and Harmony

Chapter Four

Atonality:music that lacks a tonal center or key

Damian

“She’s not here.”

Lauren’s voice behind me interrupts my scan of the lobby from my perch on the second floor balcony. I turn to face her. “What? Who?”

She moves closer with a sympathetic smile, not even buying my pretense of not understanding who she’s talking about. Joining my surveillance of the freshman theory class that just let out before heading into our Music History class, she elaborates. “Charlie. She’s not here. I mean, she’s in Spokane still. For now. But she’s not coming back to school.”

My head whips around to look at Lauren. “Why not?” I’d considered the possibility that she might quit. But she was so set on learning more about music that I didn’t really think she would.

A rueful smile flits across Lauren’s face. “The dean called her in for a meeting last week. Told her she should withdraw to save everyone the trouble of her presence.”

I suck in a breath, horrified by the coldness of the university to do such a thing. “Seriously?”

She rolls her eyes and runs a hand over her ponytail. “Not in so many words. But basically, yeah. She told me he said the police department was already stretched thin keeping the paparazzi off school property before the semester had even started. And the faculty have been getting calls from magazines and TV shows and all the celebrity gossip outlets.” She flips a hand, encompassing all of them in that one quick gesture. “Anyway, she’s still hiding out at our place, but I think it’s only a matter of time before she leaves. She has to make a decision about her career. And I think she’s going back.”

Her eyes spear into me, dark and serious. “If you want to talk to her and fix whatever went wrong, then you need to do it soon. Before she’s gone.”

For a second, we just stare at each other, gazes locked. I break the staring contest first, looking down at the lobby again, nearly empty now. “I’m not sure there’s anything to fix. According to her, we were just friends.”

Lauren makes a low sound of frustration, pulling my attention back to her. All sympathy is washed from her face, replaced by anger. “Don’t be stupid. You know that’s not true. She said that to protect you, so the press wouldn’t dig into you and your family and start following you around. Would you rather she told them you were dating and open up that can of worms? Especially since you broke up with her at Gabby’s wedding?”

My own anger and hurt rises to the surface, and I open my mouth to say something, but the words die before they reach my lips. Torn. Because yes, I want her to acknowledge what we were to each other. I love—loved—her.And she told me she loved me. Did she? Or was that all part of the act?

Sometimes I try to convince myself it was.

But the only question I can’t answer iswhy? Why take things so far? I pursued her. Both in the beginning and after she stayed away when I turned down sex the first time. I sought her out. It was always me. So why would she lie about loving me?

The only real answer is that she wouldn’t. But then I’d have to reexamine everything else. And I’m not ready to let go of my hurt and betrayal. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

I hadn’t considered before that she might be protecting me, protecting my family and our privacy, by telling the world that we were “good friends.” Which begs another why? Why would she protect me after I hurt her the way I did?

With another growl of frustration, Lauren spins around and stalks away, anger pulsing from every line of her body. Well, she can join the club. I’m angry. She’s angry. Charlie’s … well, I don’t know how Charlie’s feeling. But if I were her, I’d probably be pissed too.

So we can all be pissed. At least Charlie has Lauren looking out for her. Commiserating with her. Sticking up for her.

Who do I have? Nosy family members and even nosier roommates, asking all kinds of questions that I don’t want to answer.What was she like? When did you figure out who she was? Can you introduce us to her hot, famous friends?

All of which only pisses me off more. Because I’m not going to tell my roommates what sex with Charlie was like. I’m not that kind of guy.

And I didn’t figure out who she was until it was spelled out for me like a moron. Everyone knew who I was dating except me. Lauren knew. Gabby knew. The entire wedding party knew who she was, and I was floating along in blissful ignorance.

The last question grates the most. Even if Charlie and I were still talking, still together, no way in hell would I beg her for introductions for my dumbass roommates. What kind of jackass do they think I am?

Turning away from the balcony, I slowly head for the classroom. I’m already late, having wasted too much time hoping to catch sight of someone who isn’t even here. Isn’t even real, as far as I know.

Oh, sure. She was using her real name. But that’s not the name everyone knows. The name on everyone’s lips. It’s only the second day of classes, and I’m already tired of the looks, the whispers, the questions.

With a deep breath, I push through the door into Music History, slouching into a seat at the back, ignoring the way everyone turns and looks at me. Dr. Paulsen makes a show of looking at me then looking at his watch before passing me a syllabus.

“Sorry,” I mutter, and he nods, launching into his welcome speech for the new semester.

Hopefully soon everyone will be so wrapped up in homework and practicing, and they’ll all forget that I dated the biggest popstar on the planet. At any rate, I’ll bury myself in books, hide out in the practice room, and do my best to avoid their questions. I push Lauren’s suggestion that I contact Charlie before she leaves to the back of my mind. It’s time to move on.

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