Page 97 of The Other Side of Green

“Jack, I don’t know.”

“Mr. Cross to you, Lyra Lennox.”

Her cheeks flushed, but I silently rubbed the toe of my boot up her shin which made her lips curve. All I wanted was to be skin on skin with her again, but I guess there were definite rules about that in the library.

“Well, I was told very clearly by Professor Greene that I wasn’t to be seen singing or doing anything that wasn’t violin.”

My smile turned sly. “Wasn’t that a prerequisite of the Collins Foundation?”

“Yes, Mr. Cross. Yes, I believe it was.”

Her phone beeped on her study desk and she glanced down at the screen. “Luca.”

I pulled a face. “Do I need to put on my boxing gloves?”

“Shh.” She peered over the study desk to check no one was in earshot, which of course they weren’t. I was stupidly in love, not just stupid.

Another beep and she frowned at the screen again. “Jeez.”

“Overprotective brother again?”

“No.’ She pulled her phone closer. “Evan. Telling me I’d better be at work, otherwise I’ll be sacked.” She rose her gaze to me. “He can’t do that, right?”

I laughed and pushed away from her desk. “I have no idea what happens at your work. I’m just a teaching aide.” I shot her a wink and sauntered off, knowing she was watching me the whole way to the elevator.

Damn Evan. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

The elevator doors were about to ping open when the click of heels alerted me to someone else on the deserted floor.

Brittany-I-can’t-play-violin.

“Mr. Cross,” she purred.

“Brittany. How’s your vibrato?”

“In need of some practice. I’m glad you’re back. Professor Greene says we can restart our sessions.” She simpered and batted her eyes.

“Sorry, have you got something stuck in your eye?”

“No.” Her cheeks pinked.

“Greene did say he had a few students who weren’t up to scratch and needed more help. Hopefully I can give you the guidance you need.”

The doors whooshed open. “After you.” She got in, her cheeks now flame red. “I’ll look forward to seeing you at one of our catch-up sessions. I think I’ll take the stairs.” Her eyes narrowed at the same time as the doors and I gave her a small wave.

With a chuckle, I pushed through the double doors to the stairs and slipped my way down to the ground floor, careful to miss a repeat conversation on the way out.

Still grinning from seeing Lyra, I went to the practice hall to set up for the afternoon session. Greene liked things set up a certain way: liked to always have the seats set into a circle so he could focus on the performance itself, treating every lesson like a concert, with all the students an active audience.

I remember the first time I’d played ‘In the ring’ as he called it; my fingers stiff, not even sure they could remember the memory of ivories against skin. Sure, I’d practiced since being accepted, every damn day, but in the damn ring it could make your brain just up and leave your head.

I dragged all the furniture about and then put out sheet music.

Finished, I sat down at the piano and ran my fingertips over the keys, foot on the pedals changing the sounds.

I remembered the seminar coming up and closing my eyes I filtered all the information we’d been taught.

Blocking the audience, dropping the shoulders, internalizing the focus so that one’s intention was inward and not outward.