I dread that place. When my mom used to work at the country club, I’d have to pick her up from her shift every once in a while, and the people there always treated me like I was dog shit they had to avoid. I can’t imagine going back now will be much different.
The sound of the shower starting jolts me from my misery. I wonder if he was listening in to my conversation.
I need a break, and if he comes out here again in that towel, I might actually jump his bones. So, I shove my feet in a pair of secondhand Birkenstocks and shove my flashcards into my bag. The library it is, then. I text Rhonda to see if she can meet up with me and practically run out of the room needing to put all the space between me and my menace of a stepbrother.
* * *
“You’re kidding.”Rhonda is sitting with her chin propped up on her hands, elbows on the table as she leans forward eating up every word. I needed to talk to someone about all of this, and none of my New York friends were available. While they said they were happy for me, they also had their own things going on. It broke my heart to not hear from them as often, and I wondered if it was because of my financial situation. Sometimes, people can let their jealousy ruin a perfectly good friendship. But if they can’t clap for you when you’re doing well, then they never really wanted you to do well to begin with.
“No. And I don’t even like him, I just?—”
“Oh, no hunny. You like him.”
“No, Ihatehim.”
Rhonda laughs. “Oh, youreallylike him. This is hilarious watching you try to fight it.”
“Okay. Maybe I kind of like him. How do I stop?”
“Hmm. Well, you can always try to hook up with someone else.”
I scrunch my nose at the thought. “I guess that’s one option.”
The library is mostly empty, and the sun is beginning to set, casting long shadows along the rows of books and desks. There’s a faintly musty smell that wafts along the blasts of heat radiating above every few minutes.
“Liam’s for sure out of the picture?” She asks, sitting back and crossing her legs.
“Yeah, I’m definitely not interested.”
“Okay, good. Well, I think I know of a couple single guys that are available. Oh! How about you come to the Mardi Gras party with me?”
“Tell me more.”
“It’s at Briar House, just over the ridge past the Arts & Music building.”
I vaguely recall where she’s talking about. Even though I’ve been here a few weeks, I still get turned around every once in a while. Must all the buildings look identical? I’d like to have a word with the architect, only they’re long dead. Their ghost is probably having a field day laughing at me every time I get lost.
“Okay. Count me in.”
“Awesome. Wear something super slutty.” She says wiggling her eyebrows. “We’ll have you hooked up with a hottie in no time.”
16
CHASE
Istare at Melody’s sleeping form, memorizing the shape of her body. Longing for someone who can never be mine. I pour that angst into every note. Composing a symphony of heartache that she inspires. My forbidden muse.
She thinks I hate her, but I don’t. I hate that we cannot be what I want. That I can’t walk over to her right now and take her in my arms. Cradling her body to mine.
There is no us in the future as long as our parents are together. And even after, the stigma of our stepsibling label would follow us. I don’t give a fuck about those things, but I couldn’t taint her like that and have her resent me. It would be a cancer on our relationship. Eating away like a malignant tumor and dooming us from the start.
I don’t know when it happened. This obsession with her. I only know that when I look at her, my heart sings and my brain scrambles to capture the music she brings.
Staring at her like this is as close as I can get to her lately. She’s been avoiding me, and I don’t blame her. The clock is ticking on needing to turn our project in, but with her not even wanting to be in the same room as me, it makes it a little difficult to finish the song. While I could easily do it on my own, it doesn’t feel right to. Maybe if it was someone else, I wouldn’t have given a shit and just done it. But with her, I can’t do that. She deserves to have her voice stamped on our work. I want her fingerprints all over it, seeing what that brain of hers comes up with.
She turns in her sleep with a whimper on her lips and a frown etched between her dark eyebrows.
I wonder if she’s dreaming of her dad again and I wish I could sink inside her psyche and fight off her demons for her, or even just to be there with her so she wouldn’t feel so alone. It’s clear Melody’s had to do a lot on her own, and she shoulders that in the way she attacks life. She’s already caught up in her work and has her professors eating out of the palm of her hand. Even Maestro loves her. She’s easy to fall for, I realize. Which is why it’s infuriating to know that the people who were supposed to love her the most, have caused her such harm.
