“Go ahead and chat with your partners. If you have any questions, I’ll be up here at my computer.”
Chat with your partners? Ugh, Drew was the last person I wanted to share air with, let alone talk to.
I took my time shoving my damp notebook into my bag, hoping Drew would just leave without trying to talk to me. Maybe we could handle all our project coordination through email. Very formal, very brief emails with absolutely no personal interaction required.
“Freckles.”
Damn it.
I looked up to find Drew standing at the end of my row, his hands shoved in his jeans pockets. His usual cocky smirk was firmly in place.
“Andy,” I said flatly.
He looked up at the ceiling like he was pulling on all his patience just to talk to me before he made eye contact again.
“Well, this should be interesting.” He was studying my face like he was trying to read my next move. “Guess we should probably figure out how to make this work without killing each other.”
There was a better chance of pigs flying.
SEVEN
The practice room in the music building was my sanctuary, and right now I needed sanctuary more than oxygen.
I adjusted my violin under my chin and closed my eyes, letting the familiar weight of the instrument ground me. The bow felt like an extension of my arm as I drew it across the strings, coaxing a melody from memory—it was unwritten and entirely my own. The notes wove through the quiet space, soft and searching, like the sound of my soul trying to settle.
I should’ve been working on the piece I’d been preparing for my Montana Philharmonic fellowship audition—the same audition that could change everything for me. But I felt untethered and restless. This wasn’t a new feeling, but it was one I hadn’t felt in a couple of years.
Everything was building up around me like stacking blocks, and all it would take was one placed slightly off-center to bring the whole stack crashing down.
And after yesterday’s psychology class disaster, I suspected that block already had a name on it—Drew Dumontier.
It shouldn’t have surprised me that a Dumontier would be my downfall. All because of a stupid feud that started long before we were ever born.
For nine weeks, I was going to be academically tied to Drew, and I had no idea what kind of retaliation he was planning after my poster prank masterpiece. The uncertainty was almost worse than whatever he’d actually do. Besides, hadn’t I brought this on myself? Why couldn’t I ever be the bigger person and walk away from his stupid revenge antics? What was it about him that always managed to rile me up and cause me to react?
I lost myself in the music, letting the melody wash over my frustration about being paired with Drew and my deeper annoyance with myself. Here in this room, nothing else mattered but the music. Not family disappointment, not cocky hockey players, not even the fact that I was now forced to work with my sworn enemy until the end of the semester.
Eventually, I switched to my Philharmonic audition piece—Bach’s Chaconne from the Partita in D minor. The piece was a monster. It demanded everything from me—flawless technique, nuanced phrasing, and a kind of soul-baring vulnerability I usually kept buried. But that’s exactly why I’d chosen it. Mr. Peterson had raised an eyebrow when I told him, suggesting I pick something “more accessible.” But I wasn’t interested in safe. I chose this piece because it scared me—and because I knew the only way to grow as a musician was to step directly into what terrified me and play through it.
Music was the one area of my life where I felt truly confident. Some days, it felt like the only thing I was actually good at.
My phone buzzed against the music stand, interruptingmy practice. Mom’s name flashed on the screen, and my stomach immediately tightened. Mom never called unless something was wrong, or unless she had something to say about my life choices that I wouldn’t want to hear.
I set down my violin and answered on the fourth ring. “Hi, Mom.”
“Harper, honey. How are you doing? How are classes going?”
Her voice had that forced cheerfulness that meant she was working up to something. I leaned back against the piano bench, already bracing myself.
“Classes are fine. Just finished practicing.” I wasn’t about to mention the Drew situation. That would open a can of worms I definitely couldn’t handle right now.
The only thing my family hated more than my choice of major was the Dumontier family.
“That’s good, sweetheart. Still spending a lot of time with that violin?” Her tone wasn’t dismissive, but it wasn’t encouraging either. It was like she was asking about a hobby she wished I’d outgrown by now.
“I’m preparing for an important audition,” I said, trying to keep the defensiveness out of my voice. “The Montana Philharmonic summer fellowship. It’s a really big opportunity.”
“Oh.” A pause. “That sounds…nice. And your other classes? The ones that are actually useful?”
