by Tillie Cole
With every step, I grew more and more confused. It was only when I missed the turning for my dorm room that I realized how shook up I actually was. There was a pit forming in my stomach.
I wanted to gouge out my eyes when all I kept seeing was Cromwell’s flushed skin and pink cheeks. His chest coated in sweat from . . . from . . .
“Bonnie, it’s this way.” Bryce was waiting for me at the door to my dorm.
I smiled and brought out my key. “Sorry. I’m so tired.” I didn’t know if Bryce bought it or not, but he dutifully followed me through my door and placed Easton on my bed.
Easton was fast asleep in seconds. I pulled the comforter over him and then faced Bryce. “Thank you,” I said, finally making myself look at him.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” I sighed. “I need sleep. I . . . I still haven’t been feeling too well.”
“Okay.” Bryce stood awkwardly on the spot, before he leaned down and pressed a kiss on my cheek. I sucked in a breath as his lips touched my skin. My chest didn’t tingle with flutters, and my stomach didn’t tighten the way it did around Cromwell, but it was sweet. Bryce was sweet.
And wasn’t intent on self-destruction. On destroying me too.
“See you tomorrow, Bonn.” He walked out of the door. I rocked on my feet as I watched him go. I thought back to Cromwell and Kacey. The way he clearly didn’t feel anything toward me like I’d thought. The music he shared with me meant nothing; it was simply a display of his talent. I laughed a mirthless laugh. I thought I’d somehow helped Cromwell play from his heart in some magic way. It turned out it was only true in my mind.
“Bryce?” I spoke before I’d even thought it through. But when Bryce turned, I ignored the blush that burst on my face and said, “You know you always ask . . .” I shook my head, my voice wavering. I tipped my chin up and met his eyes. “If you want, we could go out on Friday?” I glanced at the floor. “I mean, if you want—”
“Yeah,” he said before I even got a chance to finish my words. He took a step closer to me. “I’d love to take you out.”
I didn’t get the fireworks I’d expected in my soul. But I got a happy bloom, and I supposed that was enough.
“Good.” I put my hands in my pockets, just for something to do.
“Good.” He smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Bonn.”
I changed into my pajamas in the bathroom then lay on the small sofa bed that my mama put in my room when I moved in. I stared at the ceiling when sleep didn’t find me. I willed my brain to turn off, because I didn’t want to feel anymore. But it betrayed me. It didn’t help me by allowing my body to rest, my limbs too heavy and aching. Instead it showed me this evening like a show reel. From the start to the finish.
When it ended, I found myself starved of breath. But I forced a deep inhale and refused to give in. I had fought for so long, never giving up. I was fighting still.
I wouldn’t give up now.
As my eyes grew heavy, I failed at eradicating the image of Kacey in Cromwell’s bed, cheeks flushed and eyes bright.
I stared at my hand, the one that had touched him earlier. And it quickly lost its shine. It seemed as though Cromwell would let anyone touch him but me.
And, I hated to admit to myself, that hurt.
*****
“Bonnie.” Professor Lewis blew out a slow breath.
I met his gaze straight on. “I can’t . . .” I shook my head, feeling the palpitations like thumps in my chest. I rubbed at my sternum. “Professor Lewis, I understand your position about dropping partners. I do. But working with Cromwell . . .” I sighed. “Frankly, it’s been the most trying academic thing I’ve ever done.”
Lewis studied my face. “Ms. Farraday—”
“Have you checked your emails today?” I glanced to the clock; it read eight thirty. I’d met Professor Lewis as he was unlocking his office ten minutes ago. I knew he probably hadn’t.
He frowned. “Why would that matter?”
“Please.” I swallowed the nerves that were beginning to rise. “There’ll be something from the dean.”
Professor Lewis kept the confused look on his face as he switched on his computer and read the email from the dean. I knew he had received it because I saw his face drop in sympathy—it was why I didn’t tell anyone.
He opened his mouth to speak. I beat him to it. “Working with Cromwell causes me more stress than I can cope with.” I gave him a smile. “I love your class, Professor. It’s my favorite.” He smiled back at that. But I hated the new way he was looking at me. Like I was damaged. Like I was a fragile doll that might break apart at any minute.
I looked around the office, at the pictures on his wall. At the painting of swirls of bright colors hanging above his desk. It reminded me of one of Easton’s pieces. I stayed staring at the picture but said, “I want to create music.” I huffed a laugh. “In all honesty, I’m not that good at it.”
“You’re a lyricist,” Professor Lewis said. He pointed at my file. “I read it.”
“I am.” I took in a breath, feeling my cheeks heat. That was something else I didn’t share. My love of words. Words that attached themselves to music until their meaning was only heard through song.
“I’m determined, Professor. To finish your class.” I sat straighter in my chair, hoping it would give me the confidence I was lacking at that moment.
“I plan to submit my composition at the end of the year with everyone else.”
“I’m sure you will,” he said encouragingly. It fueled the spark that forever sat within me and helped fill me with hope.
“But I can’t do that with Cromwell Dean.” I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I know you trusted me to help him. To push him to work for this assignment . . . but . . .”
“No need for further explanations, Ms. Farraday. I am fully aware of Cromwell’s attitude.” He scribbled something in my file then sat back in his seat. “Very well. It’s done.” He rubbed his hand over his stubbled chin. “Are you okay working alone?”
“I’m better that way.” I shrugged. “Years of practice have been forced on me.”
“Then, Ms. Farraday, I look forward to hearing how your composition progresses.”
A heaviness I didn’t know I carried lifted from my shoulders as Lewis granted me permission to break from Cromwell. It was quickly replaced by great fear. Fear that I would never be able to produce anything like Cromwell had played for me last night. But it didn’t matter. The main victory was that I was free of him.
I ignored the dull underlying ache that simmered underneath the strong sense of relief. I got up, seeing that class was about to begin.
“I wish you luck, Ms. Farraday. With everything.”
I gave Lewis a tight smile. “Thank you.”
I left his office and walked down to the classroom. Bryce was already sitting in his usual seat. He flashed me a wide smile when I climbed the two steps to join him. My stomach flipped, but not in nervousness or excitement. I knew it was because I had agreed to go out with him, finally. I really shouldn’t have. I was reacting to that night. To Cromwell and Kacey. But seeing Cromwell living life exactly on his terms made me determined to start doing things I had never experienced while I still could.
I simply couldn’t let myself or Bryce get too invested.
“You look beautiful,” Bryce said shyly as I took my seat next to him.
“I look tired,” I said and laughed. The dark circles under my eyes were getting worse. No amount of sleep would help with that. But he didn’t need to know it.
Bryce’s attention went to the front of the class. His smile slipped from his mouth and his face flushed with red. I knew who had walked in just by Bryce’s reaction. I kept my eyes on my notepad. I was doodling around the margins, meaningless swirls. When Cromwell passed me, I smelled the spice of his cologne or whatever it was that made him smell that way. My heart leaped to my throat when I realized he’d stopped. My breathing increased in rhythm and my hand worked fast
er on my meaningless drawings.
I didn’t want to look up. I couldn’t, then . . . “Bonnie.”
I closed my eyes as Cromwell’s voice hit my ears. His voice was laced with sadness again, like it had been so many times when he’d briefly let me inside a little. When some of his armor had cracked.
But right now, I couldn’t let his rough voice in. Seeing him with Kacey had hurt. So I kept my eyes downcast. This, and the tiredness that was sapping me of my energy, was too much.
My shoulders were tense, cold shivers darting down my back. Finally, Cromwell walked up the remaining steps to his seat.
“Dick,” Bryce muttered under his breath. I pretended I didn’t hear that either.
Lewis walked into the room. “Turn to page two-hundred and ten. Today we learn about concerto form.”
I did as instructed and managed to block Cromwell out completely. That was until Lewis called his name at the end of the class. “Cromwell, I need to see you tomorrow at the end of day.”
I gathered my things and got out of the classroom as quickly as I could. I knew what that meeting was about. “Bonnie!” Bryce caught up with me.
“Hey.”
“So tomorrow?” Bryce rubbed his neck again. I realized this was his nervous tell.
“Tomorrow,” I echoed.
“How’s eight at Jefferson Coffee?”
“Perfect.” I relaxed a bit. I knew the coffee place inside out. It would make the date easier for me to go on. I would be there on Saturday too, but the Saturday crowd was never made up of students. Saturday was for the Barn around here. It made going to the coffee house two nights in a row more bearable. No one knew me.
He laid his hand on my arm and squeezed. “See you then.”
“You too.” I watched him go. He was nice. Kind. And that’s exactly what I needed to tick this experience off my list. Someone who didn’t make me feel worse than I already did. Instead, they’d show me what a real date was.
I reached into my purse for my chewing gum. It wasn’t until I looked up that I saw Cromwell leaning against the wall across the hall, outside Lewis’s office. He was close enough that he would have heard me and Bryce talking.
He was glaring at me, a pinched, almost angered expression on his face. I didn’t care. Because all I could see when I looked at him was Kacey half naked in his bed, and his unkempt state as he answered the door.
Shoulders straight, I walked past him and into the fall air. The cool breeze was no comfort to my starved lungs. I wasn’t sure there was any remedy for the way my body always reacted to Cromwell. Distance was the only thing that would help.
So I planned to keep far, far away. As I looked behind me, I saw him smoking beside the door, eyes locked on me. Only, in this light, I saw the sadness shining through like a beacon. It made me lose a breath.
So I put my head down and walked to my next class.
I didn’t look back again.
Chapter Twelve
Cromwell
“What?” I wasn’t sure I’d heard that right.
“You’ll be working alone from now on,” Lewis said. “I’ve decided to separate you and Ms. Farraday. The pairing wasn’t working. You weren’t producing anything that could be submitted.” He shrugged. “Some people just aren’t suited creatively. I made an executive decision to allow you to work on your compositions alone.”
I stared at Lewis, stunned. She didn’t want to work with me anymore. My stomach fell and I shifted on my seat. Her face on Wednesday flashed in my mind. When she’d stood at the door and saw me, saw Kacey in my bed. I shifted in my seat again when a stab sliced through my chest.
Bonnie had been hurt. I saw it in her brown eyes.
I’d hurt her.
I’d sent Kacey home later that night. I hadn’t even tried to get back into it. Back into what we’d been doing before the knock came. I couldn’t. All I saw was Bonnie’s face. Even drunk off my face, I knew I’d fucked up.
As I sat here now, my shoulder burned. Right over the exact spot she’d put her hand on me and I’d lost myself in the music. It had sucked me under to the point that I wasn’t even aware of what I was playing. And I’d been playing that piece. The one I never wanted to touch again.
Bonnie had heard it.
No one ever had but me.
“Cromwell,” Lewis said, pulling me out of my own head.
“Fine. Whatever.” I left his office and stormed through the corridor. The few music students left knew to give me a wide berth. Bonnie was gone from my life. I should have been okay with it. It was what I wanted. I’d pushed her away like everyone else.
But my body was a live wire. And I couldn’t let it go. I worked better alone. Always had. But the thought of her not being there . . .
I sparked up a smoke and walked home. But with every step I got more and more agitated. I knew Bonnie had done this somehow. She’d made Lewis drop me. I pushed through the door to my dorm. Easton was out. Good.
I sat at my desk and fired up my new laptop. I cracked the window so the fire alarm wouldn’t go off when I lit up another cig. With my headphones over my ears, blocking out the world, I let the colors lead me in the beats.
I closed my eyes, and the pulsing shapes of vivid colors took form. I followed the patterns, let them control my fingers as I slammed the keys and drum machine, chasing the painting on the backdrop of the black canvas.
I worked and worked until my cigarettes ran out and my fingers ached. I’d drunk the last of the cans of beer and drained a two-liter bottle of Coke. But when I slipped off my headphones and saw that it was dark outside, nothing had changed inside me. It didn’t matter that I’d mixed tunes that would have the clubs bowing down to me like I was a god.
I was still pissed off that I’d messed up. Anger running through my veins, ready to burn like lit petrol. I tipped my head back and let out a loud groan of frustration.
She’d had me dropped because I’d hurt her.
I’d gotten drunk after I’d left her. So drunk that I just needed to spin, I needed to be busy. The next thing I knew we were at the Barn. I downed shot after shot of whiskey to forget Bonnie. So that I didn’t rush back to where I’d left her and tell her it all. She was getting too close. And something happened to me when I was around her. My defenses fell.
I couldn’t let them fall.
Kacey had been at the Barn, clinging to me like glue. When I couldn’t get Bonnie from my head, I knew I needed to be with another girl. But when she was at my door, her brown eyes wide with hurt, I knew I’d fucked up.
It would never have worked. Bonnie Farraday was cemented into my brain.
How about eight at Jefferson Coffee? That wanker’s words ran through my head at a million miles an hour. I looked at the clock. She’d be with him now. It was nine. The dark pit that started forming in my stomach at the thought of her with Bryce McCarthy grew and grew until, the next thing I knew, I was out of the door and pounding the pavement until I hit Main Street.
Her brown eyes filled my mind, urging me on. Her smile and my name coming off her lips. The imprint of her hand still burned on my skin and her palms I still felt on my cheeks. The scent of peach and vanilla from her neck was still in my nose.
It tasted of sweetness on my tongue.
I stopped dead outside the coffee shop. I kept my head forward, telling myself to go the hell home and to not do this. But my feet didn’t listen. The pit in my stomach didn’t go. Bonnie was in there with Bryce.
And I hated it.
I gritted my teeth, then snapped my head to the side and looked through the window. Something resembling a stone in my chest dropped when I saw Bonnie at her usual table with Bryce. Her hair was down and curled, hanging halfway down her back. I’d never seen her hair down.
And she looked . . . I couldn’t look away.
She was wearing the purple dress she’d been wearing in Brighton. Someone came out of the door holding a takeaway espresso. He held the door for me. “You want in?”
; I didn’t think it through; I just walked in the door, the scent of roasted coffee beans slamming into my face. When I saw Bryce leaning into Bonnie, Bonnie smiling, something seemed to snap within me.
I crossed the coffee shop and pulled out the chair at the table right next to theirs. I leaned back in the seat. Bonnie’s brown eyes were wide as they latched onto me. Her lips parted. Slowly, a burst of red flared on her cheeks. It was like seeing the sound of a G-sharp note tattooed on her pale skin.
Sam, the barista who had served us before, came over. I flicked him an uninterested glance. He frowned and looked between me and Bonnie. “Black coffee,” I said then looked over at Bonnie again.
She’d ducked her head away from me. But I had all of Bryce’s attention. His face was fuming. Good.
He leaned closer to Bonnie and gave her a smile. My fingers dug into my palms when she smiled back. My coffee arrived, and I turned my head away. I needed to breathe. To keep it together. Because the sight of them together was driving me mad.
I listened in to their conversation, zoning everything else out. They talked of school. Of music. When Bryce talked about what he was creating for Lewis, I wanted to punch him. But when Bonnie told him she’d started composing her own, I froze.
She’d already started without me.
About five minutes later, Bryce got up and went toward the toilets. Bonnie turned her head to me, eyes tired. “Cromwell, what are you doing here?”
I didn’t like how sad her voice sounded. It was navy blue. “I was thirsty.” Her shoulders sagged and she played with the handle of her cup.
Bonnie flicked her hair back from her shoulder, showing a big silver hoop in her ear. She had more makeup on than I’d ever seen her wear. I shifted in my seat when it hit me that I thought she looked beautiful.
She must have seen me staring. She leaned forward, voice low. “Cromwell. Please,” she begged. “Stop, whatever this is.” Her eyes fell. “This constant back and forth . . . I can’t do it anymore. You have your life and I have mine. And that’s okay.”
