And after fifteen minutes when there’s no sign of Rhys, and I pull out my course material to start rehearsing on my own, my fingers are shaking as I put the limited skills I’ve learned so far this year in my beginning piano course to the test.
But irritation—and I can’t help but admit, concern—doesn’t set in until I’m on my way back to my dorm and I check my campus email on my phone to find a message from Rhys.
From: [email protected]
Date: Fri, Sept 13, 2013 at 4:49 PM
Subject: Sorry
Evelyn,
I had an emergency come up, so I had to leave campus for the weekend. Practice this weekend and we’ll touch base next week. Again, sorry for standing you up.
Rhys
Disappointment spirals through my veins as I go into my suite. Hannah’s yelling from her room when I walk in, and when I go to my own room, Corinne pops up from her computer chair. Her face is pale and drawn as she apologizes for walking out on me earlier in the D-hall.
“No skin off my nose,” I promise as I sit in the center of my bed and take off my shoes. Before I grab my computer to write Rhys back, I tell her about running into Daniel. When I’m done, and she looks just as surprised as I was earlier, I say, “Can you call him? He’s worried about you.”
She rushes off, leaving our door partially open. The second I hear Hannah loudly declaring that the “skank is probably gone for the night,” I abandon my reply to Rhys and stalk to the doorway. Blushing, she prepares to speak to me—probably to defend her assholery—but before she can, I slam the door so hard the few bottles of perfume that are sitting on my dresser tumble over.
Chapter Eleven
Nine Months Ago
I already know why James is at my door even before I step aside to let him in, before he opens his mouth to speak. Still, it doesn’t quite mute the sharp pain I feel when he sits on the edge of my bed, looks me right in the eye, and says, “You and me can’t do this anymore, Evie. I’ve tried—I’ve been trying for over a year now—but I can’t.”
Sliding my butt onto the desk directly across from where he’s sitting, I raise my beer to my lips and drink quickly. I’d dug into my private, under-the-bed stash earlier this afternoon, right after Kendra left to go home for the weekend.
“Do what?” My words are a little slurred. I set the can down on a folded sheet of paper I’ve made into a coaster. “What are you talking about?”
James’ face creases into a frown. He leans forward with his elbows on his knees. “We need to take a break.”
I clear my throat to shove down the bubble forming in my chest. This has been a long time coming, especially after he disappeared over Christmas break, and I heard a rumor from a mutual friend that he was messing around with any and every thing with breasts and a decent ass.
“So you can see other people. And not feel bad about it.” I rub my palm over my chest, wishing it were possible for me to rub away the burn flaming through my ribcage. “I get it.”
“Evie,” he groans, his voice impatient. “Don’t be like this.”
“I’m not being like anything. What? Am I not allowed to understand and accept it?” I start to take another sip of my drink, but suddenly he’s on his feet, standing in front of me and holding my wrist. “Get out of my room,” I order.
“You need help.”
An angry hiss rushes past my lips, and I jerk my wrist out of his grip. Somehow he manages to maintain control of my drink. “Are you screwing with me?”
“This—this—is exactly what I’m talking about. You’re all over the place.” His jaw sets in a hard line as he studies my face. “When was the last time you actually went to class?”
“You sound like Kendra. But unlike her, you really have no room to talk.” I also don’t want to slap Kendra when she gives me unsolicited advice. “If you want a break, fine, I’m good with that. But stop trying to analyze me. You blow at it.”
He drops the nearly empty beer can in the wastebasket by my desk before turning back to me. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he promises as if he didn’t just end our relationship.
“Don’t bother.”
“Evie, Lily would—”
At the mention of my sister, I jump off my desk and shove my hands against his chest, pushing him hard in the direction of the door. “If you even think about going there you won’t walk out of here with your junk intact. Good night, James.”
But after he leaves, mumbling how much he still loves me and how he wants things to go back to how they were before, I lock my door and ease down on my bed. Out the corner of my eye, I can see myself in the full-length mirror that’s hanging on the wall beside my desk. I stare numbly at my reflection, at the brown eyes staring back at me. And I can vividly hear James’ unspoken words.
Lily would never be doing this.
Lily would want you to deal with your issues the right way.
Lily would be so disappointed in the wreck you’ve become.
Digging my fingers in the mattress beneath me, I drop my head between my knees and release a sob. I stay like this for so long a headache starts to form between my eyes. Although it’s the last thing I should do, when I finally talk myself into getting up, I get dressed and soon after, I leave the building with the group of girls I usually party with. When I come home without them a few hours later, I don’t care that I’ve only spoken to the guy I’m kissing a handful of times, or that he knows James. All I want to do is drown out the memories.
I don’t care when the same thing happens once again a couple weeks later.
But a week after that, when I come out of my room and there’s a message scribbled on my whiteboard in permanent orange marker—the board that everyone on my hall can see—that blatantly calls me a whore, something inside me snaps.
And I start to give a damn again.
Chapter Twelve
Now
With things somewhat fixed with Corinne—at least where Daniel is concerned—I try to put all thoughts of my own screw-ups out of my head to focus on my schoolwork for the rest of the weekend. I do a half-ass job dealing with things on the memory front, but I catch up on just about all my assignments. By the time I enter the practice room Monday, I’m feeling confident with myself.
Of course, that confidence is immediately tested when Rhys points out that I’m five minutes late. I toss my messenger bag in the chair by the door and start getting my books out.
“Blame your boss then,” I say. He lifts both eyebrows, studying my movements carefully as I set up my sheet music on the stand. “Cameron wanted to reschedule my lesson with her to Thursday. And she wanted to ask me how things are going with you. You’ll be happy to know that I gave you a glowing review.”
Linking his fingers together and placing them behind his head, Rhys leans back. “Glowing, huh?”
“The very best. I told her things are going swimmingly. Now, are you ready to start?”
He glances at the top of my head. As usual, I’m wearing one of my many hats, and as usual, he’s not happy about it. For once, though, I’m having a genuinely bad hair day. “As soon as you take that damn hat off. Then we’ll begin.”
“I’m not hiding beneath this one,” I argue. “My hair really does look like shit today.”
“Don’t care if you’re hiding or not. Take it off, Evelyn.”
A surge of frustration whirls through me. “You give voice lessons, bartend, and now, here you are trying to tell me what to wear. Again. Wow, Rhys.” My heart flies into my throat as he stalks over to me, and I take a step backwards toward the piano when he stops right in front of me. “Is there anything you don’t do?” I question softly.