Violet Lane (Love is Music Book 1)

by R. M. Lynn

  “There’s only one of me, babe, I promise you that.”

  My scowl deepens, but it only makes him smile wider. I decide to train my eyes back onto my laptop. The professor steps in front of the class, the giant projector screen behind her lighting up with a power point.

  I open a word document as Kyler leans closer to me. “Do you mind?” I snap in a whisper as the professor begins her opening with an introduction of herself.

  “Just wanted to see what you could possibly be taking notes about during syllabus week,” he murmurs back.

  “I like to be thorough,” I mumble and let out a breath as I begin taking notes on her next slides regarding important due dates.

  I can see him smirk out of the corner of my eye as he responds, “So do I.”

  Apparently, everything he says has to contain some hidden sexual innuendo. He, thankfully, remains quiet for the next twenty minutes of class. Professor Cameron Fields continues her lecture on the standard university policy we’ve all probably heard a ton of times. I perk up in my seat when her next slide comes across the screen, detailing a summary of the class project that will be due at the end of the semester.

  “Fields and her fucking projects, man,” one of the guys behind me and Kyler mutters.

  “You said it,” another one of them responds.

  Kyler leans in close to me and hums, “I hope you like group projects, Alivia with an A.”

  My cheeks warm as I force out, “I actually really enjoy them.”

  He smiles and leans back into his seat as Professor Fields announces, “I will post the groups by the morning of next class on Wednesday. You will want to get together with these groups as soon as possible. For this project, I will be asking you all to participate in a showcase of sorts. You will perform two musical numbers. One will be a cover of a song from the last two decades, nothing older, and one will be of an original song written by your group. If there are any disputes or concerns within your group, it is important to set up a meeting with me as soon as possible in order to resolve any issues. The groups assigned are nonnegotiable.”

  She continues discussing the logistics of the project, and I type on my laptop as she goes. Twenty minutes later after she finishes her introductory lecture, she releases us. I pack my bag up and stand from the chair just as Kyler does. I feel his eyes on me as he refuses to move from his place in front of me. Finally, I look up into his eyes and nibble at my bottom lip, waiting for him to speak first.

  “What class do you have next?” he asks, his eyes dancing between my mouth and my eyes.

  “Um, it’s a piano class. Secondary level,” I mutter and force myself to inhale slowly. “What about you?”

  He shrugs. “Just a history of music class.”

  “Yeah, I took a history of jazz class last spring.”

  He grins and rubs the back of his neck, my eyes immediately darting to his bicep. “So, this piano class,” he says, forcing my eyes back to his. “Where’s it at?”

  “It’s in Montgomery Hall,” I tell him. “You know, across the green outside.”

  “Yeah, my class is there, too.” His smile brightens. “Can I walk you?”

  It’s my turn to shrug as I say, “Sure, yeah.”

  His friends are waiting for him outside the lecture hall. They are laughing about something one of them said, but they all stop when we approach them. The blonde one steps forward first, sticking his hand out to me, taking mine in his.

  “Hey, I’m Noah,” he says with an easy smile.

  I return his smile and reply, “I’m Alivia.”

  “With an A, not an O,” Kyler fills in for me with a smirk on his face. He gestures with a nod their way to the other two. “That’s Dylan. I don’t know if you remember, but he was with me last night.” I blush at that, because of course, I remember. He continues with, “That’s Ayden.”

  Ayden is the shortest of them all, but still taller than I am. His hair is long and tied up into a messy bun on the top of his head. My eyes dart along his arms noting the sleeves of tattoos that must have taken him years to complete.

  “Hi,” I mumble and push my glasses up my nose.

  They both smile and give me nods in greeting. Kyler tells them he’s walking with me to class and that he’ll meet them afterward. I can hear them snickering as we walk off toward the staircase.

  “Ignore them,” Kyler mutters. “They’re a bunch of idiots.”

  “We are who we associate with,” I tell him. “Isn’t that the saying?”

  He bites his lower lip, holding back a grin, and states, “I’m not sure that’s a real saying, but I’ll take your word for it.”

  His arm brushes mine as we head out of the building, our feet hitting the cement walkways. Neither of us speak for several seconds, and I’m not one who’s good with awkward silences. Finally, I speak.

  “So, what’s your major?”

  I hear him chuckle before he says, “Music. But I guess I should say I double major in business management.”

  My eyes widen slightly, and I look up at him. “Those are two very different things.”

  “Yeah, well, that was the agreement. Tuition would be covered by my parents if I went for something ‘practical’ as they put it,” he explains. “It’s only to get them off my back. But, then again, you never know. Maybe the whole music thing is as pointless as they claim. Well, as pointless as my step-dad claims. My mom has been pretty supportive about what I want to do.”

  I shrug and tell him, “I wouldn’t say it’s pointless. If it’s what you want to do with your life.”

  He flashes a smile my way just as we reach the doors of Montgomery Hall. I give him a thank you when he opens the door for me and follows me inside.

  “What about you?” he asks once we’re met with the bustling students inside scrambling to find their classes. “Your major?”

  “It’s music with a concentration in composition and songwriting,” I tell him.

  “That’s cool. I dabble in songwriting myself,” he shares.

  I smile up at him, let out a breath, and finally, I tell him what I should’ve told him when I crashed into him this morning.

  “Listen, about last night,” I start and nibble on my lip. “I know it’s easy for you to not believe me when I say I’m not normally like that. In fact, I’m sure you hear it a lot. But I want to reassure you that I’m really, really not like that normally. I mean, yes, I like to have fun on the occasion, but normally, I don’t get abandoned by my friends, and I definitely don’t get rides from strangers.”

  “Or dance on tables, right?” he interjects with a smirk.

  I let out another breath of embarrassment and continue to say, “Absolutely. I would never. I just have been going through a bit of a situation, and really, I shouldn’t have ever let Mackenzie convince me to go out with her. Mackenzie is my roommate, by the way. She told me it was a way to try out the single life, but it’s all very confusing, and honestly, I just want to make sure you know-”

  Kyler laughs and puts his hand on my shoulder to stop me. “Listen, Alivia, it’s okay. You don’t have to explain yourself to me, and I definitely am not judging you. We all have our days. I can gather you’re thankful, and you’re welcome. It wasn’t a big deal considering we live in the same building.”

  Right. I mentally thank him for the reminder that we’re neighbors for the rest of the school year. I push my glasses up my nose and let out a breath before looking up into his eyes again.

  “Thank you,” I say softly. “Really, I appreciate it.”

  “Like I said,” he states quietly, a smile dancing across his face, “it wasn’t a big deal.”

  I glance up at the clock on the wall before mentioning, “It’s five minutes before class starts, so I better get going.”

  “Yeah, I’ll catch you later?”

  Doubtful if I had anything to do with it. The guy oozed sex appeal, and it simply made my whole body feel like it was on fire every time he looked at me and smiled. I was a n
ervous wreck around him. However, I give him a nod and a smile before heading in the opposite direction of him. Once I’m in a seat in my next class, I pull out my phone to quickly send a message to Mackenzie. However, I open my messages app to find a message from Scott.

  Scott: Lunch is good. Want to meet at Garden Deli?

  Alivia: That’s fine. Does 11:30 work?

  His reply comes instantly, and with it, I have a lunch date set with my possible cheating boyfriend. Taking a breath, I toss the phone into my backpack and pull out my laptop once again, ready to take notes, even if it is only syllabus week.

  ◆◆◆

  Chapter Three

  Kyler

  My apartment is empty at one-thirty in the afternoon. Noah and Dylan, who both happen to be my roommates, are still on campus for classes. I’m sitting on the couch, my six-string guitar in my lap, enjoying the quiet. It’s rare that I get the place to myself, but when I do, I relish the peace. I love the guys, but sometimes they’re a bigger pain in my ass than they think.

  I hum the words to Wonderwall by Oasis as I strum my guitar. I open my mouth to belt out the words just as I hear shouting outside my apartment. I listen for a moment, hearing a man and a woman’s voice going back and forth in a heated discussion. I stand up, go to the front door, and peek through the peephole. I see a flash of my beautiful neighbor Alivia storm past with a guy trailing behind her. When I hear him bark at her, I release a breath and open my door. They both freeze at her door and look in my direction.

  The guy is only an inch or so taller than Alivia. He’s wearing a polo and khakis and his hair is gelled like he took fashion advice from someone like Jacob fucking Henderson. His hand is wrapped around her wrist, so something tells me he may have learned how to treat a woman from someone like Jacob fucking Henderson as well. I bet they’re friends. Maybe they’re in the same frat. I’d be willing to bet money on it.

  “Is there a problem out here?” I ask, my eyes landing on my neighbor. “You good?”

  She releases a heavy sigh and smacks the guy’s hand so he releases her. “Everything’s fine, I’m sorry,” she says in a rush. “I hope we didn’t interrupt you or anything.”

  You did. However, I don’t say this. Instead, I repeat, “Alivia, you good?”

  She looks me over once before stating, “Actually, Kyler, I was hoping you could help me with something from a class I’m in? Do you have time now? I’d really like your help while you’re not busy. You’re not busy, are you?”

  “I’m not busy,” I assure her with a smirk.

  She pushes past the guy while snapping at him, “Scott, we can talk later. I really need help with this.”

  “Help with what? Classes literally just started today,” he argues.

  She swallows but keeps her cool in check. “It’s for a project, okay? Just let it go. I’ll call you later.”

  She moves past me now, her shoulder brushing my chest as she slips into my apartment. I look the guy, Scott, over as he does the same to me. He scowls deeply, but all I can do is grin. What a tool. He curses lowly before stomping down the steps. When I see him get into a car, I decide it’s safe to go inside. Alivia is pacing around my living room, mumbling to herself, her hands running through the hair that’s loosened from her braid and is now cupping her face.

  “Everything okay?” I ask as I take a seat on my couch. “You want to sit?”

  “What a fucking ass!” she shouts suddenly. “I mean, honestly, I should’ve known better, but really the audacity of that guy!”

  I bite back a grin and quietly reply, “Who is that guy?”

  “Scott. We’ve been dating for eight months, and I’m pretty certain he’s been talking to some girl named Indigo. What kind of name is that anyway? Did her parents just pick a crayon out of the box and say, ‘yep that’s the one’? I mean, really. Who does Indigo think she is?”

  I ignore the ache in my gut when she tells me Scott, the douche, is her boyfriend. Of course, a girl like Alivia has a boyfriend. Why wouldn’t she? Doesn’t matter, I’m not the boyfriend type. Not really. It’s better this way. I focus on her pacing and the rest of her rant. I ponder what to say before I speak.

  Finally, I tell her, “Maybe Indigo isn’t the one to be mad at. She could be just as much a victim.”

  She sighs heavily as she continues to pace and throws her hands in the air in defeat. “You’re right. Of course, you’re right. Because the universe has to make you attractive and right.” I chuckle as she continues on saying, “I just don’t even know what to do with this anymore.”

  “What exactly is the situation?” I ask when she comes to a halt, gazing down at me. “Want to share?”

  “I suppose it couldn’t hurt to talk about it,” she mumbles and pushes her glasses up her nose.

  “Sit down,” I tell her and pat the seat next to me. When she does, I add, “Share all your deepest secrets with me.”

  She gives me a small smile, making mine broaden. “We never have had any issues before. We’ve bickered, of course, but nothing too serious. Two nights ago, he was over at my apartment. When he was in the bathroom, his phone dinged, and I thought it was mine. I picked it up and saw a message from this girl that wasn’t me.”

  I think she’s cute when she rambles. Hell, I think she’s cute all the time. However, I know now isn’t the time to share this.

  Instead, I ask, “What did it say?”

  “Something about how great dinner was with him the other night and how she can’t wait to do it again. It wasn’t too perverted.”

  I smirk, but it dissipates when I look at her face. Her expression tells me she’s crushed. My hand instinctively goes to her knee to give it a reassuring squeeze. She stares down at my hand a beat, her eyes wide. The moment passes quickly, her eyes soften, and she places her hand tentatively over mine. My thumb desperately wants to brush over her knuckles, but I refrain it.

  “So, was that what you were arguing about?” I question softly.

  “I told him I’d go to lunch with him,” she tells me. “So, we went and for the majority of it, I acted like nothing happened. But he kept touching my hand, telling me he missed me the day before, and I just couldn’t take it anymore.”

  “I’m sorry you’re dealing with this shit,” I tell her honestly. “I’ve never been cheated on, so I really don’t know what to do in this type of situation.”

  She brushes my statement off with a wave of her hand and stands from the couch. “I told him I saw the message, and then he accused me of snooping. Accused me. How dare he, you know?” I nod, and she continues with, “So, we argued and brought it all the way back to the apartment. Sorry again if we really did interrupt you.”

  “You didn’t. I was just messing around on my guitar,” I assure her. “So, what did you need help with anyway?”

  She rolls her eyes. “I didn’t need any help. I just wanted the excuse to get away from him. He’d never relent if I didn’t. Did you say you play guitar?”

  I gesture to the side chair where I sat my guitar down. “Yeah, that’s mine.”

  She walks over to the chair and picks up the wooden piece gently before murmuring, “It’s beautiful. Is it new?”

  I nod and reply, “Yeah, my parents got it for me last Christmas. I trashed my old one, had it since I was six. It just didn’t sound the same anymore, so my mom decided it was time to turn the old thing in for something new. Do you play?”

  She laughs softly. “Oh, no. I wish. They say once you learn the piano, you can play anything. But I haven’t ever tried to play anything else, and I don’t think I’d be any good at it.”

  “So, the piano class is just extra practice for you?”

  “Yes, I guess so, but it’s a requirement for me, so there’s also that.”

  My mouth opens to respond, however, before the words can escape, the front door bursts open. Noah, Dylan, Ayden, and even Oliver waltz inside laughing and joking while shoving into each other. Alivia startles and places my guitar back down in
the chair she picked it up from.

  “Oh, shit, Ky, didn’t know you had company,” Dylan chuckles out. “Want us to leave?”

  The word yes is on the tip of my tongue, but before I can say it, Alivia replies, “No, you don’t have to leave. I was just about to go anyway.” She looks back at me. “Thanks for your help, Kyler.”

  I give her a nod and stand to walk her out. The guys rush into the living room and kitchen, two of them rummaging around the cabinets and fridge while the other two guys splay across the couch. I open the door for her and step out with her, holding the door only slightly ajar behind me.

  “It seems I’m constantly in need of your help,” she mumbles. “So, thanks for always seeming to be there when I need someone.”

  “What are neighbors for?” I tell her softly. “You should come over again, though. I can teach you a bit on the guitar if you’re interested.”

  Her eyes brighten, and a smile hits her lips. “Really? You’d do that?”

  I shrug like it’s no big deal, hiding the fact that all I really want is to see her again on my couch, in my apartment, with my guitar in her hands.

  “I promise it’ll be painless,” I assure her.

  She nods once and replies, “That would be fun. Thanks.”

  I chuckle. “You don’t have to keep thanking me. I keep telling you it’s not a big deal.”

  She pushes her glasses up on her nose. I fucking love those glasses. I’m so glad they didn’t shatter when she crashed into me this morning. It would’ve sucked to see her without the damn things all day.

  “So, I better leave you to your friends then,” she murmurs, her eyes meeting mine.

  I nod slowly and reply back with, “Yeah, I better go before they trash the place.”