Because of You (33 page)

A smile lifts my cheeks. As soon as I notice, I stop. Quickly type back:
Okay
.

Bitchy Spears is winding down. I think she’s almost finished talking when she asks a question. “What distinguishing tendencies did most early twentieth century writers have?” She scans the room. Several hands go up. Lots of students with opinions. I’m guessing that’s good. I don’t want to answer, so of course, she calls on me. “Miss Martin. Please enlighten the class.”

I sit up straight. Clasp my hands in my lap. “Um…” I pause, and Bitchy Spears interrupts.

“Obviously she’ll get an A on the final.”

The class laughs.

I shrink down in my seat. There’s plenty I could’ve said: stuff about Modernists, Realists, and even Naturalists.

My phone vibrates.
I hate this class. It’s Toxic. She Drives Me Crazy.

I cover my mouth to keep from snorting.

Agreed.

The rest of the day is hard, but uneventful. I talk to my teachers, tell them that I slipped on some water and fell down a long flight of stairs. It could happen. They’ve agreed to let me make up my work. I guess, in a small way, I have Evan to thank. The bruises on my face encourage the teachers to take pity. I see it in their demeanor.

More snow is falling. As I make my way to the Fine Arts building, I leave tracks on the sidewalk. My toes are frozen. Large snowflakes sting my face and stick to my eyelashes. I pull open the door and my body sighs in relief.

The entryway is quiet. I quickly make my way down the steps and pull open the doors to the practice rooms. A little more tension leaves my body.

Music: the soother of souls.

About halfway down the hall I hear the song Kyle played the last time he arrived before me. As before, the melody breaks my heart. It’s lovely, breathtaking. It sweeps me away to a place where I’m more comfortable, more relaxed, more at peace.

I pull open the doors and he stops.

“Hi.”

As soon as I see him, my heart speeds up. This is our sanctuary. No one can touch us when we are within these walls. Unless we allow it. He comes over, pulls my light coat off, and tosses it into a chair. I’m mesmerized by the way his hands move, the way the muscles in his forearms and biceps flex and contract. I can’t help but be taken in by the way his navy shirt hugs him from his chest all the way down to his narrow hips. Past his stonewashed denim. And, for the first time, I check out his shoes.

They’re white. Look worn. Sneakers. Comfortable. Cozy. Unassuming. Just like Kyle. And I smile.

“Hi back.”

His lips find mine immediately. No hesitation, but he’s soft. Tender. I know he’s taking into consideration my split lip, and his thoughtfulness gives me shivers. He is still urgent, I respond in kind. Hungry for him. He presses my mouth open with his lips, sucks on my tongue. My thighs, the secret place between them, suddenly jolts to life and ignites with pleasure.

I can’t keep my hands off him. They wander under his shirt and my fingers trace the places my eyes roamed only moments before. His hands cup my butt, holding me to him.

There’s a knock on the door, then it opens. I suddenly remember Evan and what he said he would do—to me, to my aunt and uncle. I feel sick.

“Hey Professor Jenkins,” Kyle says casually.

A sob of relief escapes my throat. I need to be more careful. I turn and smile.

Professor Jenkins clears his throat. Gives my face a once over. Shakes his head. “Are you warmed up? Can I hear how the piece is coming along?”

“Um, sure,” Kyle says.

We move to take our seats. After I’ve adjusted my bench, I glance at Kyle. Send him a message with my eyes. This isn’t going to be good. My fingers aren’t limber. I haven’t played in a couple of days.

Kyle saves me.

“Do you mind if we run through a couple of exercises?”

Professor Jenkins’ eyebrows rise into his salt and pepper hair. A look that asks, “What have you been doing?” He takes a seat in a chair, crosses one leg over the other, and tweaks his clothing. “Of course. Proceed.”

I’m so happy I could reach over and kiss Kyle, but I don’t. We run through scales together for five minutes. I’m amazed at how well we play together. It’s not easy to play a song with someone else. The best duet partners learn to breathe together. For many, it takes years of practice. But with Kyle, it’s as if his heart is a part of me. I sense the beat, when he’s going to breathe. Each time I glance at Kyle, I get the feeling he’s experiencing the same thing.

My fingers are feeling better, more limber. I nod, letting him know I’m ready.

Kyle counts quietly. “One. Two. Three.” He starts to play. I join in. My fingers play the notes. My soul follows along. Soaring. Reaching. Believing. Worry about Evan, about whether I should be with Kyle, and the stress of school fade into the background.

I am the music.

I’ve had the piece memorized for a while and I play with my eyes closed, only occasionally opening them to watch Kyle when there’s a particularly difficult section. His ice-blue eyes meet mine every time I look over. Melting me. And I’m lost. In his eyes, the chords, the melody.

When it’s finished, Professor Jenkins claps. He stands, picks up his briefcase and his coat and moves to the door. “Lovely. Almost there. Keep it up. I’ll check back after Christmas break.”

He leaves. The air’s thick with a tension I hadn’t noticed before. I glance at Kyle and we both start to laugh.

“Are you staying with your aunt and uncle for Thanksgiving?” He stands and makes his way over. The butterflies in my belly flutter with eagerness.

I swallow and clear my throat. “Yes. Are you going home? I mean, to your aunt and uncle’s?”

He walks behind me, touches my back with his hand. Moves my hair out of the way and massages my shoulders.

“Mmmmmm. That feels sooooo good.” I let my head hang forward, giving him easier access.

His magic fingers knead the stressed muscles. Then move further down. I close the lid over the keys and lean forward.

Kyle chuckles. “I take it you don’t want me to stop.”

“I might have to hurt you if you stop.”

“Got it, Boss.” His fingers move further down my spine.

My body is humming in happiness. I think I could let him do this for hours. He moves along my waist to my sides, then presses in. My body responds like a light bulb flipped on and I whirl around, slapping his hands away. “Don’t tickle me.”

He pulls me close, nudging my neck with his nose, his lips. My heart pounds against my chest so hard I think I’ll pass out. “I want you, Maddie Martin.” His hands slide under my shirt and his hands press my body tightly against him.

I melt into him, hugging him. I want him too. But Evan’s voice is in my head.
“Keep your knees together and your lips closed.”

He straddles the bench so he’s facing me. I lean in. Mesmerized by his hands on my body. When they reach my neck, he lifts my face and kisses me. Long and deep, until I press into him, dizzy with pleasure.

“Until break we’d better practice long and hard.” His voice is hoarse, filled with emotion.

I mutter something incoherent, too focused on the gratification his tongue and lips are eliciting as he blazes a trail of hot kisses over my body.

Maddie

y Aunt and Uncle are waiting, Gina. Let’s go.” I’m trying not to act like an impatient bitch, but she’s making it difficult. At the moment she’s stuffing random clothes into a big black duffel bag. “We’re going to be gone three days, not two months. Jeans, tee shirts, shoes. That’s it. All you need.” I stomp my foot in frustration as I watch her ignore me. Open a shoebox and toss her black ankle boots into the bag.

Gina looks up. “Almost done.” She pulls a short black dress off a hanger. “You never know when you might need a party dress.” She smiles big, and it reaches her eyes, a rarity for her. It finally occurs to me that she’s excited. To meet my family. A small piece of my heart melts. I’ve sensed something going on with Gina. I’m hoping during these three days—without boys, parties, booze, or drugs—she’ll tell me what that something is. “Ready,” she says, tugging on her black leather jacket and zipping it. Wrapping a red scarf around her neck.

She walks over, tugs on my gray sweatshirt, and says, “Why the hell don’t you have a coat?”

“Coats are for babies,” I say smugly.

She snorts.

We head down on the elevator, her with her big bag, and me with a small rolling suitcase. The elevator is crowded. Hot and stuffy. When the door dings open, we burst from the small container. I look at Gina, and she smiles.

“This is going to be fun,” she says, pushing open Irvine Hall’s front doors.

I’m about to agree until I see Evan. He’s leaning against Kyle’s Jeep. His ankles and arms crossed. He’s smiling, and my heart drops into the pit of my stomach.

Kyle
, I think, and frantically search for him. I see my aunt and uncle’s car. They are parked in front of Kyle’s Jeep. My heart is frenzied. I wonder if Evan knows who they are.

“Hey Maddie.” Kyle appears on my left and wraps a hand around my waist.

“Hi,” I respond, my gaze spinning back and forth between Kyle and Evan.

Kyle kisses my cheek. “Let me help you with your suitcase.”