Audible Love: A Young Adult Romance

by Maggie Dallen

  Am I the only one who slept in?

  Oh no, has Seth seen this? What did Trent say when he saw the picture? I’m still scanning the article, and I think I know what Trent has to say. He’s said it already and for the record. My stomach roils with disgust. Someone told the reporter that I went to the party as his date and Trent’s comments rival Henry’s in the thinly veiled department.

  “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” Wagner says. “Avery and I hit it off right away. I guess she and I have a lot in common.”

  A lot in common? Like what? We use the same moisturizer?

  “I care about her,” he goes on to say. “I’d like to think that what we have is special.”

  Special? Right. So special he forgot all about me as he fled from the cops. I definitely feel that special connection.

  My favorite line—and by that I mean the most horrific line—comes at the end. “Avery and I have a bond that goes beyond physical intimacy.”

  Blurgh. I might vomit.

  “We want the same things. We speak the same language. One day I look forward to working with her as well as being her close friend.”

  Ew. Just…ew. Work together? Belatedly I remember that he’s an actor. I mean, I’ve never seen him in anything but underwear and watch ads, but I’ve heard him act.

  He’s phenomenal.

  I’m the idiot who took his amazing acting skills to mean he had a soul. And now I look like a slutty idiot. Not only am I supposedly sleeping with a married older man, I’m caught holding hands with one guy while supposedly getting physically intimate with a guy who says smug asswipe comments like “a gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

  Okay, so maybe I am at fault here. I did make out with Seth while technically on a date with Trent. I heave a sigh as I wallow in guilt. I give myself a solid thirty seconds to wallow before figuring out how I’m going to deal with the latest crapfest that I find myself in. First things first—I need to make sure Seth knows the truth, about me, about Trent, about Henry.

  About us.

  Trent I’ll deal with later.

  I’m on my way out the door when Charlotte stops me again. “I saw Seth at the recording studio in the AV wing of Beauman Hall.”

  I stare at her in surprise. Recording studio. What is he doing there? Suspicion has me frowning at my roommate. “I swear, if that guy is starting on our project without me…”

  I’m out the door before I can finish my threat and I hear Charlotte laughing behind me.

  It’s not a long walk to the Beauman Hall, but I spend it dodging looks and ignoring whispers. For a Sunday, the campus seems unusually busy. Or maybe it’s always this busy, how would I know?

  I don’t care though. I’m determined not to dwell on Henry’s article or Trent’s comments or the fact that pictures of me and Seth are being splashed around entirely out of context making us look like some sort of privileged teen version of Bonnie and Clyde.

  I make a side note to write that script. Bonnie and Clyde at boarding school? That’s a movie I’d watch.

  I’m grinning as I turn down the hall leading to the recording studios. There are some legit singers, songwriters, and aspiring producers at this school and the trustees have spared no expense when it comes to equipment.

  If I could sing, and I can’t, I would totally record my demo in this place, the professional quality is that good.

  Side note: I am not, in fact, trying to incorporate ad placements for Trudale while writing this. I’ve just read a lot of literature on the topic. Also, my tour guide was incredibly thorough.

  It’s quiet as I tread softly along the carpeted hallways, peeking into each booth. There are a few that are occupied. One by a couple making out and two by people who look like they’re singing their hearts out.

  Good for them.

  I’m getting anxious to find Seth. We need to talk. I need to make sure he doesn’t buy any of those lame stories. He’s the only person whose opinion I care about at this particular point in time, and that thought scares me more than anything else.

  One kiss shouldn’t have such a powerful effect.

  But it’s not just the kiss. It’s the connection, the friendship, the way he sees me when no one else does.

  That sounds lame. Of course, people see me. I’m not invisible. And it’s not like I blend into the walls with my shy ways. But still…I can’t help but think it over and over. He sees me. The real me. He looks past the role I’ve been playing for so long I don’t know where I end and she begins.

  Around him, she fades away. The ice queen, the diva, the unaffected, jaded actress who doesn’t care about anyone or anything.

  She’s gone, and it’s just me.

  So yeah, it’s scary, but it’s amazing. And he’s amazing. And I want us to be amazing. And—

  My mental tailspin into giddiness comes to a halt when I catch sight of him. He’s in a sound booth with what looks like a script in his hand. Some guy I don’t recognize is doing the engineering.

  We don’t have a script for the video, obviously. There’s no words, just the music. I’d thought maybe he’d be toying with that music. But he’s not. So…maybe this is for another class? Or maybe it’s for fun.

  I hesitate in the doorway. I could just peek in. Curiosity wins out, and I open the door slightly, intending to say hello to Seth’s friend who’s working with him. But the moment the door cracks open, I hear Seth’s voice.

  Or rather…Trent’s.

  I stand there frozen, unsure of what I’m hearing at first. I poke my head in further because I need to see him. It’s the most disconcerting thing to hear Trent’s voice narrating a book, and see Seth’s face. Like a dream when one person shifts into another.

  It can’t be…but it is. And I know what he’s reading. I know the voice. It’s the voice of the anti-hero, Blackheart. I love Blackheart. I love Trent’s take on Blackheart. I love…

  All at once the reality hits me. Seth is Blackheart. Seth is all of them. He’s been lying to me. Trent’s been lying to me, but that fact doesn’t sting so much. I don’t expect anything from Trent.

  But Seth?

  I should be used to this feeling, but it still hurts. Betrayal trickles through me as my mind leaps to every worst assumption. Even if they’re wrong, I like to be prepared. And why not leap to the worst? He’s lied. He’s been lying.

  Has he been laughing at me? Have he and Trent been laughing at me this whole time?

  My face burns with embarrassment as my stomach falls further into a seemingly endless pit that makes it hard to breathe. It makes it hard to do anything but back out of there.

  My one friend, and he’s been lying to me.

  I can feel a coldness slip into place in my brain. Like I said, this isn’t new. It shouldn’t hurt. I won’t let it hurt.

  Chapter Eleven

  Seth

  This day has pretty much been the worst.

  The. Worst.

  “Dean Hopkins is waiting for you in his office,” Trent says when I get back after work.

  And the hits just keep coming.

  My day started by waking to the sound of Trent’s voice telling someone over the phone about how he’s dating my girlfriend.

  Or…maybe she’s not my girlfriend yet. But she will be. I need to talk to her. I need to see her and make sure last night wasn’t a dream. It all seemed so real in the cop car, but in the cold light of day?

  It’s hard to believe any of it happened.

  Guilt made me flee the dorm room this morning. Well, guilt and disgust at hearing Trent drop not-so-subtle hints that he and Avery are hooking up. I know it’s not true, but that doesn’t help matters. I still hate hearing it. Hate picturing it. Hate knowing that a part of Avery wanted that to be true…at least at first.

  She wanted Trent and all that he represented. The fame, the charisma, the powerful family…and yeah, the handsome face and jacked body.

  Not that I’m jealous or anything but…yeah, maybe I am. Just a little. Because t
his morning, in the harsh morning light, it’s hard to imagine that she doesn’t still want that. It’s impossible to think that she’s chosen me instead.

  What the hell do I have to offer?

  With that cheery thought, I’d fled to the safety of the sound studio. I can always lose myself there. Just me and the script…and Joel, but he doesn’t count. He’s quiet and skilled and just there to be paid.

  But now I’m back in the real world and facing Trent, who’s giving me a pout that would make any five-year-old proud.

  “What’s your problem?” I ask.

  He turns his laptop so I can see. I sigh because I knew it was coming. There’s a picture of us, and we’re holding hands.

  Despite the awkwardness of this situation, my heart does a weird jump start like it’s revving up or something.

  It’s real, some part of my brain feels it urgent to point out. It really happened.

  So, yeah…I might be battling a smile even as I’m facing down Avery’s irritated date.

  “What’s going on between you two?” he asks.

  I arch my brows. “You mean, what went on between us after you ditched her at the party to fend for herself?”

  He has the good grace to wince. “I didn’t see her, I thought maybe she’d bailed or something…” He shrugs helplessly. “My dad would be pissed if he’d gotten a call from the cops.”

  And there it is. The real reason he’d left without her.

  “So…what,” he says, looking less pissed and more intrigued. “You were just helping her out as a friend?”

  I could lie. I can totally lie and say yes and this latest portion of my crappy morning will end and I can go face the dean—the next sucky item on my morning from hell to-do list.

  But I can’t bring myself to lie, not about her. Not about the way I feel about her.

  I clear my throat. “Not exactly.”

  Trent glares at me, but I don’t feel any real heat there. For him to be really pissed, he’d have to really care about Avery, and we both know he doesn’t.

  “She’s into me,” Trent says gruffly. Not meanly. I think he’s honestly just confused. His whole world order is being turned upside down by the thought of Avery the superstar with his geeky, poor, nobody of a roommate.

  I find myself attempting to be as gentle as I can with my dopey, entitled, spoiled brat of a roommate. “I think she was starstruck by you,” I explain. “She’s really into the audiobooks and—”

  “Did you tell her about that?” His voice has turned sharper, and I can’t blame him. That secret affects us both. If it came out that we’ve been misrepresenting ourselves…well, I honestly don’t know how bad it would be.

  Would anyone care? Maybe not. But if the author felt cheated, we could be in serious trouble. I imagine Trent is more worried about his father. I’ve never met the man but the mention of him is enough to make the fearless Trent pale, so I imagine he’s not a treat to deal with. And I know for a fact that he wants his son to be productive and working, not for the money, obviously, but to establish his career as…whatever the hell it is Trent wants to be today.

  An actor, presumably, but maybe a professional windsurfer. One never knows with Trent.

  “I haven’t told her anything,” I say. The next part is harder to get out. “And I won’t.”

  He nods.

  I scratch the back of my head again and clear my throat as I shuffle toward the door—toward awkward conversation number two with the dean. “So, are we cool?”

  Trent shrugs. “Yeah, man, I don’t care what you do with that girl. Just…” He looks pained, and the look is so rare for this guy, I find myself hesitating in the doorway.

  “Just what?”

  “I just hope you know what you’re getting into,” he says. With a shake of his head, he adds, “That girl plays in a different league, you know?”

  I blink, not because the comment is so shocking.

  Of course, I know that. She’s a freakin’ hot-as-hell superstar. She’s rich, famous, and insanely beautiful. Of course, she’s out of my league.

  No, I blink because of Trent’s flicker of intelligence. And what I suspect might be a hint of compassion. The look he’s giving me isn’t quite pity, but it’s close. He thinks she’s going to walk all over me…

  And he might not be wrong.

  Once again I feel myself shift from that warm, dream-like state of the night before to the cold reality of today. Let’s face it, whether she likes me or not, Trent is right. She lives in a different world, and I need to remember that.

  That fact is made that much more clear when I get to the dean’s office and find Avery already there. She looks perfect. With her hair pulled up into a bun and dress buttoned up to her neck, she looks like she’s playing the role of honor student extraordinaire.

  And Dean Hopkins is eating it up.

  She’s all prim and proper when I show up, looking…not prim and proper in my T-shirt and jeans. I didn’t drink enough to be hungover, but I feel like crap, and a little part of me is irritated that she somehow looks completely untouched by the events of last night.

  I know that can’t be true. But when the dean gestures for me to sit beside her, she barely glances in my direction. Her gaze doesn’t meet mine.

  Fine. She’s probably nervous, and I’m sure she’s dealing with flak of her own from her mother.

  This is what I tell myself as we sit silently through the dean’s lecture, which is pointedly directed at me.

  From an outsider’s perspective, one might believe this entire lecture is for my benefit and that Avery is just here as a casual observer. At the end of it, the dean furrows his brow and meets my gaze head-on, ignoring Avery entirely. “I think we both know that you cannot afford to be causing trouble.”

  I stiffen at his word usage. Cannot afford? He’s not even trying to be subtle. He’s pointing out loudly and clearly that I have a scholarship to maintain. Unlike Avery, I literally cannot afford this place. No normal person could.

  But no one here is normal.

  The fact that Avery is sliding through this entire lecture without so much as a stern look has not escaped my notice. It’s not that I want Avery to get into trouble, but the inequality here is so stark, it’s hard not to take it personally.

  It’s hard not to feel just a little bitter.

  I mean, you’d think I’d kidnapped Avery and forced her to go to this party. She’s the one who wanted to go. I wouldn’t have even been there if she hadn’t talked me into it.

  Not that I’d say any of this to the dean, of course. I really don’t want to see her get in trouble. But I can’t stop stealing glances out of the side of my eye. That cold sensation—the one that says last night was just a dream, a moment out of time—it’s back in full force every time I look in her direction and am met with her rigid profile. Her gaze is so determinedly fixed straight ahead, I might as well not exist. Her shoulders are pushed back, her chin is held high…and despite the dean’s lecture, I can’t focus on anything but her.

  More accurately, the fact that she hasn’t so much as looked in my direction.

  My worst suspicions from earlier this morning are coming true. It didn’t happen. Last night—the kissing, the talking, the bonding—it was all in my imagination. Or maybe she’d had more to drink than I’d realized.

  Trent’s words come back to me like a punch in the gut.

  Or maybe she’s just living in a different reality. Maybe she woke up and realized that she doesn’t want to be paired up with a nobody like me.

  When the lecture is over, I go to stand just as Avery does.

  “Not so fast, Mr. Adams. I’d like a word in private.” The dean’s voice brooks no argument, and I watch helplessly as Avery walks away without a backward glance.

  It seems the dean isn’t done with his threats and after she leaves I’m in for a more explicit threat on the nature of scholarships and how easily they can be revoked.

  It’s humiliating and crushing and…so
not freakin’ fair.

  It’s not until later that day that I text her. I have to give myself some time to calm down, to remember that she’s dealing with more crap than I can imagine.

  That fact is made alarmingly clear when Trent shows me some trashy article about how she’s sleeping with her married co-star.

  “Think it’s true?” Trent asks.

  He’s serious. That’s how little this guy knows the girl he’s supposedly dating. I shake my head. “Of course not. Don’t be an idiot.”

  He doesn’t argue, but he gives me that pitying look again along with a shake of his head. He might as well just say it: you’re out of your league, dumbass.

  Maybe I am, but that article makes me pissed on Avery’s behalf and it also helps explain why she was in super ice queen mode.

  Me: Can we talk?

  I wait for a response. And then I wait some more. By the time I go to bed that night I think it’s safe to say that she’s ignoring me. She continues to ignore me for the next two days, and I’m…well, yeah, I’m pissed.

  I mean, the first time she ignored me I tried to be mature about it. Then she ignored two more texts, a phone call, and a knock on her door, so now I’m not just pissed, I’m pissed and pathetic.

  Yup, I definitely feel pathetic right about now as I sit in film class waiting to confront her because unless she wants to back out of this class, she can’t avoid me any longer.

  While the rest of the class does their typical stop, drop, and stare routine when Avery walks in with her head held high, I do the opposite. I head toward the ice queen despite every inch of her body language saying stay away.

  Surely that doesn’t apply to me, right? I mean, I was there the other night. I know what really went down. I know she’s not in trouble with the police, unlike some of the weird rumors going around. I also know she doesn’t have a drug problem (I heard that one in my biology class), that she hasn’t been breaking up any marriages lately (amazing how many of our classmates bought that one without blinking), nor is she secretly dating Trent (though everyone at Trudale thinks the fact that he once had his arm around her is tantamount to a marriage license).