Page 111 of The Other Side of Green

“Yeah, yeah.” He pointed at the chairs.

With a heavy heart, I got down to it. Whatever torture Greene had planned, why did I have such a bad feeling about it?

“Hey, Jack,” I hissed at his retreating back. He’d taken his face of stone straight out the practice hall before I’d had a chance to pack my violin away.

His feet slowed on the stairs and I quickly paced after him, listening for the sound of oncoming students.

“Yes, Lyra.” The flash of his dirty greens slashed my chest.

“Can we talk?”

He glanced up and down the stairwell. “About the violin?”

I huffed out a breath of air, but then heard feet from about four feet up and breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Professor Greene said you could master how to block out the audience. I was hoping you could give me some advice.” I flustered, pulling half-truths out of half lies.

He nodded; lips still set into a crimped line which made my chest tighten. I followed him silently back out onto the floor where the smaller practice rooms were—not the bigger, airier allocated spaces the Collins money had bought for me.

A cluster of girls squeezed past us in the other directions, all eyes on me. Not one looked at Jack, which either meant they were all visually impaired or I really was still hot gossip. I gave them my tightest smile as Jack opened the door, striding straight for the keyboard that took the place of the shiny piano in the room I was used to. Wow. Things were tough on the upper floors. I wrinkled my nose. “Does it smell of feet in here?” I asked.

Jack folded his arms. “Lyra, what do you want? You know we can’t be seen together.”

“What? Jack we are in a closed room, who is looking at us?”

“You’re the one who wanted the secret relationship. This is how secret goes.”

“What the hell has got into you?” Almost dropping my case onto the floor, I stalked forward and pushed my pointer finger hard into his chest. Good, I hope it bruised.

“For you, Jack. For you. Because I want you to have this.”

“Really?” He scowled like a child.

“Seriously, how old are you?”

“Twenty-four, as if you need reminding.” He leered at me and I saw five different shades of Blue and every single one made my heart hurt.

I placed my hand against his chest, smoothing my fingers against the cotton of his blue shirt. “You’re angry with me, but I don’t know why. That doesn’t strike me as fair.” I curved my lips into a half smile, hoping the storm was ebbing.

“I really don’t like you playing with Alex Collins.”

He glared out of the window.

“Alex Collins?” I snickered, which earned me a thunderous glare. “You’re jealous of Alex Collins? After everything we’ve been through, all this time and all the heartbreak, you don’t like the fact I played some Paganini with a friend?”

Reaching onto my tiptoes, I planted a kiss on the side of his mouth, feeling it twitch beneath mine.

He softened, arms snaking around my waist. “Not when you make it sound like that, no.”

I pulled back, eyes stinging. “Is this because my music has always been linked with you?”

He dropped his face slightly, his hand still on my hips, an anchor to hold us together.

“You’re the key, Jack. I was talking to Greene the other day and I remember it now, the day that Grams bought me the violin. The moment I felt it in my hand it seemed so natural.” Jack’s face lifted to look at mine. The wood, the way it seemed warm almost.” I reached back into the memories, feeling them within the reflex of my subconscious mind, the same powerful machine that also remembered how to play, where my fingers went, the imprint of strings on my fingers, the grooves where it hurt slightly less… and Jack… it remembered Jack too.

“The instinct came from within me. I don’t know why, Jack. I wish I did.’ I bit on my bottom lip, eyes stinging again. “But you’re the one that gave it heart, kept me going, because I wanted to be able to give you something when it felt like you had nothing, and I didn’t have anything else to give.” I shook my head. “Just some screeched notes on a cheap violin to try to make you feel better.”

His fingers lifted to my face, cradling my jaw, gaze intense as he stared at me. Then he dropped his head, resting his forehead on mine. “I’m sorry.”