Play Only For Me: (A New Adult Romance)

by R. B. O'Brien

  Colton was worried by her words but heard himself saying, “Sounds good,” anyway.

  ****

  They stayed up writing down some lyrics, laying down some riffs, but by three-thirty am, Colton realized his creative juice kept coming back to the girl with the eyes that changed colors.

  “What’s up with this tender bullshit?” Angela asked, looking at some of the lyrics Colton had written down. “It’s her, isn’t it?”

  “Her as in, what’s her name? The chick I drove home?”

  “Yeah. The chick you drove home. The chick with the long, dark hair. The chick with the body the rest of us dream of. Yeah. That chick. And don’t act like you don’t know her name, you asshole.”

  He laughed. “I want to make it big someday, Angela. Writing a sappy ballad here and there is what we need. Every good rock band has one.” He lied.

  “Yeah. If you’re fucking Poison or some lame-ass ’80s hair-band. At least make it sexual for Christ’s sake.”

  Colton laughed again.

  “I could show you sexual.” Angela left her keyboard and walked over to stand in front of him as he sat with his guitar still on his lap.

  “Angela, didn’t we just talk about this?”

  “You talked about this. I didn’t necessarily agree.”

  “I don’t like what it’s doing to our friendship.” He knew he was lying. He couldn’t think about anyone but Lauren for some reason. It didn’t mean it was forever. It just meant that he couldn’t concentrate on anything else right then.

  “Yeah, okay.” She looked crushed, her eyes avoiding his, but she smiled, and Colton knew she was trying not to let him see her feelings.

  “See you later?”

  “Okay,” she said. “And don’t you dare say it.”

  “What?”

  “That you’re sorry.”

  Story of my life tonight. “I won’t.” He gave her a kiss on the forehead and walked out.

  ****

  Sunday hadn’t been as bad for Lauren as she thought it would be. Beth talked her into going to the school’s gym. Why not? The membership was free for the students. Lauren took dance classes pretty much her whole life, but she was nothing special with it. She was decent. Decent enough to get theatrical-type roles. She would have to beef that up in college if she really wanted to make it on the stage, acting and singing. And she needed to be in shape.

  She called her mom and dad and faked that everything was going well. She hadn’t heard any more from Beth about Colton or Angela. She really wanted to forget the whole blasted night, forget about him. He lived in some off-campus housing, so she didn’t need to worry about running into him at the dorm, and she planned to go to the movie Brian had mentioned.

  As she dressed for the movie, her text went off.

  Hey-do you still want to do that questionnaire?

  Was this who she thought it was? How the hell did he get my number?

  “Beth!” Lauren yelled down the hall, where Beth was hanging out with a few friends on the couches.

  “Yeah?” Beth came walking down the hall and in through the open door of the dormitory room they shared.

  “Did you happen to give a certain, blond-haired, brown-eyed boy my number?” Lauren stood with both hands on her hips, furious.

  “Um…” Beth stumbled.

  “What the fuck, Beth? Don’t you think you should have asked me first?”

  “I was a little…”

  “A little what? Are we friends or not? Because my friends I have back home would never do something like that to me.”

  “… a little intoxicated. He’s very persuasive, Lauren. He said he just wanted to make sure you got into the dorm okay. He seemed pretty sincere about it. I didn’t think there would be any harm. You did let him drive you home. You texted me that you were fine with that. I thought that meant you were fine with him.”

  “Well, I’m not.”

  “What do you mean? Did something happen? You didn’t sleep with him, did you? Jesus, Lauren, did you?”

  “What? No. Of course not. Are you crazy or something? He didn’t even come up with me. He dropped me off.”

  “That’s what he said. That’s why he said he just wanted to make sure you were okay…because he didn’t walk you in.”

  “Yeah. Because he’s such a gentleman.”

  “I never said that.” Beth chuckled. “He also mentioned something about some homework assignment you guys needed to work on. I don’t know. That’s what he said. What exactly happened then if you let him drive you home but now you don’t even want him to contact you? There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  “He’s mean, okay? He’s not nice to me. I just want to forget about him. He didn’t walk me up because he doesn’t like me.”

  “He doesn’t like you? Then why would he drive you home? I’m so baffled right now, I may need to start drinking again.”

  “I spilled beer all over me, and I couldn’t find you, and my chest was hanging out all over the place, and he offered to take me home out of some kind of pity fest. Other than that, he pretty much hates my guts.”

  “Hmmm.” Beth pondered. “Well, clearly he called you or texted you or something. What did he say? Did he tell you off or something?”

  “No.”

  “Well, then what?”

  “Nothing. I just don’t want him or anyone else, for that matter, having my number unless I give it to him or her myself. Okay? Don’t ever do that again.”

  “Christ, Lauren. Okay. I’m sorry.”

  “And I just wish everyone would stop saying sorry to me!” Lauren screamed and stormed out, down the stairs to the main hall to get comfy and watch a movie.

  She looked down again at her phone. Another text—Well. Don’t you care about your grade?

  Why it made her smile, she couldn’t understand, but it did. It was so frustrating. She huffed and wrote back—I do care about my grade. But I have plans. It’ll have to wait.

  As she walked into the hall staring at her phone to see if he would respond, she smacked right into Brian.

  “Oh my god, Brian. Hi. Lauren from last night?” She pointed down to her phone. “Sorry. Shouldn’t be texting and walking at the same time.”

  He laughed. “I remember your name, Lauren.” He paused and slowly looked at her. “You look much better than you did last night.” She stood awkwardly in her yoga pants and t-shirt comfort clothes, and she sort of forgot she might know someone. She didn’t have any make-up on, and her hair was thrown into a messy bun.

  “Thanks, I guess. I must have really looked like crap then.”

  Again, he laughed. “I’m not sure you’re capable.”

  She fidgeted, unsure what he meant. But she thought he was nice, and she needed nice right then.

  “Movie’s about to start. There’s popcorn over there and some other snacks and soda. I hope you can enjoy yourself.”

  Lauren began to walk over to a vacant spot with her blanket and pillow when she looked up to see Beth coming over too. Lauren smiled. She felt a little foolish for having gone off on her like that.

  “Hi,” Lauren whispered.

  “Do you mind if I watch with you?”

  “I could actually really use a friend,” Lauren said.

  “Good. I promise to be a better one.”

  “I promise not to be so emotional.”

  “I get it. I was like that my first year. It gets easier, I promise.”

  “I know. Each day it does get better. I think if I get into Les Mis, too, I’ll start to find my niche.”

  “If? Lauren, I’ve heard you sing. The conservatory only takes like ten freshmen girls a year. You can get any role you want in that.”

  “Well, eight, but who’s counting.” Lauren forced a smile. “It won’t be easy to land Éponine.”

  “Just sing your heart out, Lauren. They’d be fools not to give you that role.”

  “Thanks, Beth.”

  “Hey. One thing I don’t do is lie. And you
r pipes? They’re amazing.”

  “Thanks, Beth, for being so kind to me.”

  “Now, failing out of classes and having to live in the dorms another year on probation, now that? That I can do! And do well…but lie? Nope! I suck at it.”

  The girls settled back with anger being a thing of the past, and the movie started. Lauren looked to see if she had any texts. She knew in her heart she was hoping to hear from him again. But he didn’t write back.

  “Hey. There’s a musical of this. You’re no Elle Woods, but you could definitely play the part of the uptight bitch girlfriend.” Beth grinned.

  “Thanks a lot, Beth.”

  “Hey. Just saying. You’ve got that rich, mannered thing going for you.”

  “I don’t really know why everyone thinks that. It’s not true.”

  “Which part? The manners or the money?”

  Lauren smiled. “Did I sound like I had manners earlier with you?”

  Beth shook her head. “Okay. I give up. Let’s just watch the movie.”

  “Damn it, Beth. Seriously. Sorry. I really don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  Beth hugged her. “No worries.”

  Lauren sighed. She couldn’t deny it. She came from money. Lots of money. Being rich was clearly not a popular thing to be. She couldn’t help where she came from. The judgments were something she never would have thought. At that moment, she wished she could change who she was. Having money didn’t mean her life was all rainbows and unicorns. It’s just that no one knew that yet.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “Okay, class. First assignment. Has everyone had a chance to look it over? Any questions?” Professor Blake started off class. Lauren had arrived a little late from her dance class, and normally she wouldn’t have cared that she was a little sweaty, but she knew she would see Colton and was self-conscious about it.

  As Lauren made it into the classroom, she immediately spotted Colton seated closely with Angela, and she looked desperately for a seat as far away from them as possible. Luckily, she found one on the other side of the room.

  “Ms. Percy,” Professor Blake acknowledged with a slightly disappointed expression on his face.

  “Sorry, sir. Dance class ran a little late.”

  He carried on, focusing his attention back to the whole class. “So, as I was saying, any questions?”

  A student from the back of the room asked, “So we can work with as many people as we want on this?”

  “I would say yes, but really no more than a few, and that would only be if you have a band in here together or something. It would be difficult to pull something together so quickly. You’re not allowed to bring anyone from outside of this class. Partners are normal. And working individually is also perfectly acceptable. Anything else?”

  Lauren pulled the assignment out from her backpack, trying not to draw attention to herself. She tried not to look in Colton’s direction, but she found herself angling her body just so, so that she might sneak a peek. When she did, he caught her. Shit.

  Colton smiled at her before she looked away. He tried not to, but when he caught her stealing a glance his way, it somehow made him happy. Even in her disheveled state, he thought she was beautiful.

  Her ponytail exposed her entire back, which he noticed was slightly damp and dewy from her previous class.

  Damn.

  He wondered how she would feel pressed under him, damp from doing other things. He found it difficult not to stare, but stopped himself, reluctantly turning around in his chair, vowing to focus, Professor Blake beginning to speak again.

  “Okay. Remember…it can’t be an original song you share. It has to be a song maybe everyone doesn’t know but a song that you did not write, and you need to be able to articulate exactly why you’ve chosen it, why it’s important to you, why you think it has merit. In essence, the question is…what makes this a good song? Not…I love this song because…I want your personal reaction to it. That’s always part of it, but you need to go deeper.”

  “Like poetry,” an English minor blurted out.

  “Yes. Similar. We all know that there’s poetry written. What makes it worthwhile to study? Read? Ponder? With music, there may be more of a formula, but I’m not looking for pop. I’m looking for depth. A place where you can start to get to know who you are, what you like, how you feel. That’s what makes an artist. Capturing your feelings in such a way that then can connect meaningfully with others.”

  “But isn’t that super subjective?” Angela asked.

  “You bet,” Professor Blake stated. “But if you’re going to start to create and define yourself as a musician, an artist, you have to embrace your authentic self by first recognizing your influences, and then making those influences fresh, unique, your own. Anything less, and you’re no longer an artist.”

  “Yeah. Like when Metallica sold out,” a tall, skinny kid in the front screamed out.

  The students laughed.

  “Okay. Let’s brainstorm first,” Professor Blake stated, making the class focus again. “Then I’d like to start conferencing in about ten minutes to see what you have. Essays are due next Monday, along with your performance.”

  Lauren shot a glance around the room and noticed Colton and Angela working together right away, full of energy. As Lauren surveyed the other students, she realized most of them were working with a partner or two. She began her brainstorm. She knew she’d sing something from a musical; that was her genre. That’s what she hoped for her future.

  “If you’re struggling to pick that perfect song, I suggest you first brainstorm how you’re feeling right now. What emotions do you feel? What are you thinking about in your life right now? Your past? Your future? Try to get it all out there on paper,” Blake interjected.

  And then it hit her. She was trying out for Les Mis. On My Own seemed to capture her emotional past and now present, exactly. Her loneliness. Her isolation. The fact that she wanted to get to know Colton so desperately and yet he was with Angela.

  But could she do it in front of him? Could she also share a really traumatic part of her past with virtual strangers? Time was ticking away as she tried to find something else. As she scribbled and wrote and brainstormed, over and over, she kept coming back to that song. It was like she was stuck on it.

  “Lauren? Please come up.”

  “Hi,” Lauren said, sitting in front of the professor.

  “What direction are you going in?”

  “Well, I’m thinking about Les Mis right now. I’m trying out for it this weekend, so it’ll keep me focused on practicing.”

  “That’s not enough, Lauren. You need to go deeper. But I think it has potential. Make sure your essay can express the emotional value or connection you have to it. Focus on the notes and melody but also the lyrics. Can you answer those questions of relevancy? Can you go beyond the superficial?”

  “I believe I can.”

  “Then, I love it, and I look forward to you singing it. A Cappella?”

  “I’d like to use the piano if you don’t mind.”

  “Great. I can see why you were allowed into this class as a freshman, Lauren. You have a lot of potential.”

  “Thank you,” Lauren said, feeling really good that he took the time to say something like that, and she went back to her seat as Professor Blake called up the next student.

  Lauren tried as hard as she could not to look over at Colton and Angela, not to listen to their conversation as she made her way back. They seemed to be having some inside joke together, not even inches apart, Angela pointing at something on her phone.

  “You’re sick. We’re not doing anything by the Sweatpant Boners.” Angela feign-slapped Colton’s chest. “Are you crazy? First of all, I can’t even believe you know who that band is!”

  “Yeah, but I told you they were real.” Colton smiled. “Pay up!”

  “Yes, you did. But come on. Let’s be serious…”

  “Put the phone away,” the professor reprimanded the tw
o impatiently, and Lauren quickly found her seat, put in her earbuds, and did her best to focus on her own project, tuning them out of her mind.

  Lauren wondered why Colton wouldn’t even say hello to her or acknowledge her. She wanted to talk to him, see if he still wanted to do the questionnaire, but she knew she was trying to find a way to talk to him, to be next to him, near him. And he didn’t seem the least bit interested.

  She began to dissect each line of the song, and when she got to the line that said, “The streets are full of strangers,” she heard a distant memory—Our real daughter is dead—something she wasn’t supposed to hear, and she welled up. She was lost in her mind and her emotions from all the overwhelming feelings of loneliness she’d been bottling up, and an unfortunate tear snuck from her left eye. She looked up, mortified, and there he stood over her.

  “Hey, class is over. You okay?” Colton asked.

  Where has everyone gone? “Wh…what? Oh god. I was caught up…”

  “Yeah. Looks like it. Professor Blake was talking to you. You nodded to him. I saw you. We all left, and Angela noticed that you were still just sitting here.”

  “And I’m sure she was real concerned. So you’re standing here, why?” Lauren asked. She didn’t know why her tone was so short, so sarcastic.

  “I went to the bathroom, and when I walked back by, you were still just sitting here.”

  “Christ. Are you crying?”

  She put her sweatshirt on. “God, no,” she lied. “I’m fine. I was caught up in the assignment.”

  She hoped he didn’t hear the crack in her voice, the insincerity behind her words. She was afraid to look into his face, so she busied herself with her backpack and belongings, running out of things to stuff into her bag, and terrified he would see her great need. Her great need for him.

  As crazy as it seemed, she wished he would sweep her up in his arms and make the pain she was feeling go away and at the same time prayed he wouldn’t, because if he did, she would fall apart.

  “Huh. Interesting. Well, if you’re fine…”

  “I’m more than fine. Thank you.”

  She wanted to ask him about the questionnaire, about the text he had sent her. But clearly, he’d forgotten all about it. He’d moved on.