by Tillie Cole
Easton threw his arm around me. “You’re such a nerd.”
I pulled away from him and threw some Altoids in his direction. “Eat a few of those before we get to Mama and Papa. You smell like a liquor store.” Easton caught them and led us out of the door.
On Monday, classes would begin. I was pretty sure Cromwell Dean wouldn’t even look my way. And Easton had it way wrong. That guy didn’t need someone to watch out for him.
I was sure he’d only be a dick if I even tried.
Chapter Five
Bonnie
The class was buzzing. Last year, there had never been energy like this. The class was small, but I could feel everyone’s excitement as if I was standing in the center of a packed stadium.
My friend Bryce leaned over. “Weird, huh? How a professor can cause this much hype.”
He wasn’t just any professor though. Professor Lewis was a world-renowned composer. He’d traveled the world. Performed in concert halls and theaters that someone like me could only dream of. His personal struggles with drugs and alcohol were widely known. It’s what had taken him from his life’s work and back to Jefferson. His hometown. In an interview with the school paper, he’d said that he needed to be grounded in the place he knew best. Wanted to give back to his local community by taking tenure here.
The music world’s loss was our gain.
I tapped my pen in a seesaw motion on my open notebook. The door opened, and a man I’d seen countless times on TV walked through. The room was silent as he walked to the table at the front of the classroom. He was young. Younger in person than I’d expected. He had dark hair and a kind smile.
He had just opened his mouth to speak when the door opened again and a tall, heavily tattooed frame walked through.
Cromwell.
If Professor Lewis’s entrance had inspired silence and awe, Cromwell Dean’s entrance brought hushed whispers and fifteen sets of curious eyes fixed on him as he walked, head down, toward the back seats.
He walked slowly up the stairs and sat near the back. I didn’t turn like everyone else. I looked at Professor Lewis, noting the lines of annoyance on his forehead.
Lewis cleared his throat. “Mr. Dean. Nice of you to join us.”
This time I did glance back at Cromwell. Just to see if he had any hint of remorse. He was slouching in his seat, staring blankly at Lewis. He looked the epitome of arrogance, rolling his tongue ring against his teeth. He was dressed in black jeans that had a chain hanging from the waist, and a simple white shirt with a low neck and tight short sleeves that gripped his muscled biceps. His tattoos climbed like vines up his arms and neck.
Some people would think them art. I thought they looked like they were strangling him.
His hair was messy and falling over his forehead. He wore silver rings in his ears and a single one through his left nostril.
Just as I was about to turn away, his eyes found mine. The color of his irises was strange. They were a turbulent kind of blue. Not like the blue of the sky, but a deep navy like the dangerous depths of a violently thrashing sea. He sighed heavily. I was sure it was at my presence. I hadn’t told him I was majoring in music too.
“Mr. Dean? Can we start?” Lewis asked.
He nodded his head. “I wasn’t stopping you.” My eyes widened at his response.
Cromwell’s English accent was thick and obvious against Lewis’s South Carolinian. As if Cromwell needed one more reason to stand out. His sullenness and tattoos were enough to do that in this small town. I took my sweater from around my chair and put it on. The room suddenly felt chilly.
“Let’s not beat around the bush,” Lewis said as he addressed the class. “I run a tiring program, and I expect y’all to comply and give it your best.” He came to stand in front of his table. He sat back on the tabletop and said, “You should have all read the course syllabus by now. If you have, you’ll know that the largest percentage of the grade comes from a year-long composition project. This will be undertaken in pairs.” He smiled, an uncontained excitement in his brown eyes. I thought I saw him briefly flick his gaze to Cromwell, but I couldn’t be sure.
“I have already picked the pairs.” He reached into his briefcase and held up a piece of paper. “You will see who you’ve been paired with at the end of class. And before you ask, no, the pairings are non-negotiable. And yes, both of you must complete the assignment or risk getting an incomplete. No one wants that on their record.”
He moved back around the desk and clicked on the projector. The TA turned off the lights. “You will each get fifteen hours of one-on-one sessions with me per semester.” He looked over his shoulder, stern-faced. “Don’t waste these hours.”
I looked at Bryce, feeling the blood rushing through my veins. “One-on-one sessions,” I said excitedly, and Bryce smiled wide.
“We’ll have seminars every other week to discuss our compositions, both individual and the one done in pairs. Because the class is all about composition.” Lewis smiled and dropped his hard persona for a moment. “I intend to create masters in this room. You will all know of my personal demons.” I held my breath. Everybody knew about his issues, but I didn’t think he’d actually talk about them in class. “I tried my best to bring my music to the world, but it wasn’t my destiny.” He smiled again, an expression of peace washing over his face. “I’ve found happiness in helping others realize their talents. My fate, it seems, is teaching. Helping others find their meaning in this world. Their passion.”
A soft silence enveloped the room. I blinked, realizing my heart was full and so were my eyes.
“There’ll be a showcase at the end of the year. Your compositions will be performed then.” He stood and put his hands in his slacks pockets. “What I failed to learn in my time as a composer is to lean on others. Share ideas and push one another to make your art the very best it can be.” He pointed at the class. “Y’all are here because you are talented. But news flash: so are millions of other people. This project will help you learn from one another and improve your craft. It’s the assignment I’m most intrigued by.”
Professor Lewis turned back to the projector screen and finished talking through the rest of the course requirements. When the talk was done, he said, “Class dismissed. I suggest you find out who your composition partner is and go for a coffee or something. Use your time wisely. Get to know your partner well.” He smirked. “You’ll be spending a lot of time with them this year.”
Students piled to the front to check the paper the TA had pinned on the wall. Others introduced themselves to Lewis. Bryce checked his name then walked across to Tommy Wilder. I frowned. Bryce and I normally worked together. He came over and shook his head. “Dream team’s getting split up this time, Bonn.”
My heart sank a little. I saw in Bryce’s expression that he was disappointed too. I was comfortable with Bryce. He wasn’t the most talented. But he was sweet. I knew he liked me as more than a friend, and I would never go there with him. But he was comfortable for me to be around. He didn’t ask too many personal questions.
I waited for the crowd to clear. A few people looked at me before they walked away. I wondered why. But when I read the list, I had my answer.
I exhaled a long slow breath. I stared disbelievingly at Cromwell Dean’s name next to mine.
When I turned around, only Professor Lewis remained in the room. “Bonnie Farraday, I presume?” He was holding his register with my student picture next to my name.
“Yes, sir.” I bit my lip. “I know you said there would be no switching of partners for the project—”
“I did. And I meant it.”
My stomach dropped. “Okay.” I turned to leave.
“You’re the top of the class, Bonnie,” Lewis said. “Cromwell is brand new to the college.” He sat down on the edge of the table beside me. This close, I could see a smattering of gray in his dark hair. I guessed he was in his forties. “He was top of his classes in the UK. He is bright and extremely talented. But b
eing a new student in a new college can be daunting for anyone. No matter how unaffected they appear.” He folded his arms over his chest. “I was told by the faculty that you were a good choice to team him up with.”
“Yes, sir,” I replied again. For once I hated that the faculty regarded me as someone reliable and conscientious.
Just as I was about to leave, I said, “Welcome back to Jefferson, Professor. You’ve been a real inspiration to many of us here.”
He smiled then turned back to his work.
I left, checking the hallway for any sign of Cromwell. I sighed when there was none. He had fled the room without even checking the board. I bet he didn’t know I was his partner.
Drained of all energy, I leaned back against the wall. I had two free periods, and I was making it my mission to find him.
I was determined. I wouldn’t let his bad attitude be my demise. If I had to work with him, I would. But nothing about this partnership made me think it would go well.
Absolutely nothing.
Chapter Six
Cromwell
I moved to my desk and logged on to my laptop. Easton was at class, so I dropped my arse onto my chair and flicked on all my mixing boards. I threw my headphones on and fired up the mix I’d started a few days ago.
I closed my eyes and let the beats sink into my body. Bursts of pinks and greens flashed before my eyes. I moved my hand to the mixing table without even looking and turned up the pace. My heartbeat chased the bass as the rhythm sped up. Triangles and squares danced in jagged patterns. Then—
My headphones were taken from my head. I spun around, jumping from my seat. Bonnie Farraday stood behind me, my headphones in her hands. Ice-cold fury had immediately run through me, but it dropped when I saw it was her. That surprised me. My anger was pretty much what I was fueled by these days. I couldn’t understand why it calmed.
I didn’t like feeling confused.
I held out my hand. “Give them back.”
Bonnie slowly pulled the headphones to her chest. I closed my eyes to keep calm. When I opened them again, Bonnie had her arms folded across her chest. She was wearing skinny jeans and a white t-shirt. She had a sweater over her shoulders like one of the posh kids I’d see strutting through the streets of Chelsea in summer. Her brown hair was back in a long plait. And when I looked at her face, she looked anxious.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. I reached behind me to turn off the mix that was now blasting through the speakers. It wasn’t finished. No one heard anything I was working on until it was done. I had a new set to put on the streaming sites. Little Bonnie Farraday was messing up my schedule.
“Did you even look at the assignment list?”
I frowned. “What assignment list?”
Her eyes looked up in exasperation. “The one Lewis talked about for pretty much the entire class.” She walked forward and pressed my headphones into my chest. I looked down at her. She was only about five foot three, if that. She was tiny compared to my six foot two. Easton was just an inch or two shorter than me. He’d clearly got all the good stuff in the womb.
“You and me, superstar, are partners. In composition class. For the next year.”
I stared at her. Locked in on her brown eyes and felt the Fates laughing at me. I couldn’t seem to escape this girl. “Of course we are,” I sighed and turned back to my laptop. I’d only just tapped a key to bring the screen back to life when Bonnie shut the laptop again.
Her hand rested on the computer. I didn’t even look up, just said through gritted teeth, “Bonnie. I’m only going to tell you this once. Get off my laptop, and leave. I’m working.”
Her hand didn’t move. She didn’t move. I roved my eyes up to meet hers. “Don’t mess this up for me,” she said, face calm. But her words, spoken in that thick country twang, were anything but. I heard a shake in her voice that made my chest tighten.
I pushed the feeling aside and raised my eyebrows. “And how can I mess this up for you, Farraday?” My tone was shitty. Condescending. I knew it. But she was starting to piss me off.
Her cheek twitched in annoyance, but she still didn’t remove her hand from my laptop. “I’ve worked too hard to get this far, and I won’t let someone like you, someone who breezes by in life, screw it up for me.”
She seemed desperate, somehow. Still, fire lit me up inside. “You don’t know a thing about me.”
“No, I don’t,” she said back. “And I don’t need to. I don’t care whether you like me or not. But we’re stuck together for the duration of this assignment.” She swallowed, then her voice softened. “To have someone like Lewis teach me is a dream come true.” Her hand slipped off the laptop. I stared at the spot it had just been on. “Don’t take it from me.” There was a small catch in her voice.
I didn’t know why, but it made that damn stabbing feeling I chased away so often slice through my stomach. Bonnie reached into her bag and pulled out a piece of paper. “The TA was handing these out as we left. You were gone before he could get one to you.” I didn’t even look at the piece of paper as it landed on my desk.
Bonnie sighed in frustration. “It says we have to have a rough outline of our project done for Friday’s seminar.” She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I won’t be around for a few days, so we need to talk about this now.”
The thought of working with Bonnie made an uneasy feeling sprout inside me. I didn’t like to feel anything. I was happy numb. But for some reason Bonnie Farraday sparked life back into my dead soul. “I’m busy.” I sat back down, throwing my headphones back over my ears. I had just taken the volume off mute when my laptop lid was pushed down again. This time harder. I had to count to ten . . . really bloody slowly.
The anger I lived with daily was waking up.
I slid my headphones off my head and put them around my neck. I turned. Bonnie was still beside me, fuming. She closed her eyes, and her shoulders sagged. “Please, Cromwell. I know you’re pissed at me for what I said to you in Brighton. I can hear it when you speak to me. But we have to get this outline done.”
Even at the reminder of that, fire boiled my blood. “I’m not pissed off at you. I feel nothing toward you,” I said coldly. I didn’t want her to think her words had had any impact. Especially how much.
“Right. Okay then . . .”
My jaw clenched as she started rubbing her arms. Like I’d hurt her. That annoying stabbing feeling was back in my stomach again. She moved toward the door then stopped dead. She spun and faced me, chin tilted upwards. “Come with me for a coffee. We’ll hash this out. I’ll write it all up. You don’t have to do anything but contribute to the idea. We just need to decide what we’re gonna do.” I blew out a long breath. I simply wanted to be alone. I was better off alone. “Just come, please. Then you can get back to your drum pad.” She was persistent. I’d give her that.
I really didn’t want to go, but oddly, I found myself getting up. “You have an hour.”
Bonnie’s shoulders sagged in relief, then I followed her out of the door. I locked it. With a key. I turned, and she must have known what I was thinking. “Easton gave me one. I’m normally the one who picks him up and brings him back home from parties. It made sense for me to have one.” She glanced down. “I won’t use it again without permission.”
Something stirred in me when her brown eyes dropped. I quickly pushed it away.
Bonnie led us out of the quad. She didn’t walk beside me, just slightly in front, which was fine with me. A few girls smiled at me, and I made a decision that I’d get my end away sometime this week. Looked like it wouldn’t be hard to pull around here. I’d gone too long without, and I was getting agitated too easy. Distracted.
Mainly by Bonnie.
Bonnie stopped at her car. “If I only have an hour, I’ll drive us there. It’ll be faster.”
Students looked at us as Bonnie pulled away from the campus. “We’ll be officially dating by tonight, just so you know,” she said.
I
snapped my head to her, eyes narrowed. “What’re you on about?”
She pointed at the students. “Downside of a small local college. The rumor mill is worse than TMZ.”
I leaned back in the seat and watched as Main Street came into view. “Great. That’ll help me get laid.”
Bonnie laughed without humor. “Not so much. You’re the shiny new toy here. Girls thinking you have a girlfriend will only make you even more attractive than you are to them right now.”
“Good to know.”
Bonnie parked outside Jefferson Coffee. She got out of the car, her bag of notebooks and Christ knew what else slung over her shoulder. I had about ten dollars in my wallet and my hands stuffed into my pockets.
I traveled light.
I hadn’t been here before, but the place was like any other hipster coffee shop I’d seen, all red walls, with a small stage in the back.
“Hey Bonnie!” about five different people said as she led us to a table at the back of the room. She smiled brightly at them, losing that smile when she sat down and looked up at me.
My fist clenched. I didn’t like that fact. And I hated that I seemed to care.
I sat down, and a guy came over. “The usual, Bonnie?”
“Yeah. Thanks, Sam.”
“No Bryce today? Never normally see you without him on a school day.”
“New partner.” She said it like she was announcing a death.
He looked at me. The prick nodded as though he could see why she was so pissed off. “The biggest coffee you have,” I said. “Black.”
Bonnie opened her notebook. “Okay. I think we should start with what we can play. That’ll help us know what our strengths will be.”
“I only do electronic music. So I’ll have my laptop. Drum machine and all that shit.”
Bonnie looked at me blankly. “We can’t compose a showcase piece with your laptop and synthesized beats.”
I lounged back in my chair. “That’s what I’ve got. I work electronically. Lewis knows it. He offered me the scholarship. He scouted me out. Think I’d find this bumfuck place on my own?”
