Page 8 of Love & Notes

I stare at the surface of his desk that is full of papers, scores, books, forty-odd blunt pencils, and say nothing. The mess is nothing new for a musician, but right now, counting the pencils is the only thing keeping me from losing my mind.

“Let’s get straight to it. I have more important things to attend to.” He begins.

Here we go.

Mathias continues, “I have spent the last year watching the pair of you perform this tiresome dance.” He looks directly at me. “Miss Vance, I quite frankly expected better. And Mr Thorne…” He turns to Julian. “I’d say I am disappointed, but that would imply I held any lingering hope for your maturity.”

Ouch. That will hurt his ego.

Beside me, Julian doesn’t move. He doesn’t flinch. Where he’s composed, I feel like I am slowly dissolving into my chair, wishing it would swallow me whole.

“The Spring Showcase,” Mathias announces, “determines your summer placements, your recommendations, and the trajectory of your careers. Every scout from New York to London will be in that hall.”

I nod. I know this. I have known this for months, longer even. I have built my entire year around it.

“Which is why—” Mathias pauses, letting the silence stretch. “After speaking with Professor Jamieson, in addition to your solo performances, you will also be performing a duet. Together.”

The words land in the room like a bomb.

Duet.

Together.

“What.” The word drops out of us at the same time.

For the first time in our lives, Julian Thorne and I are actually aligned on something.

“I am not repeating myself, and I am certainly not negotiating.” Mathias states with a colder tone. “A musician does not always have the luxury of choosing who they share a stage with.” Mathias rises, which signals the end of the conversation and, as far as I am concerned, the end of my life. “Find a piece. Find a way to work together. Now, out. I have other matters to attend to.”

My hands grip the leather armrests as the blood rushes to my face.

A duet? With Julian Thorne?

For twelve months, the Spring Showcase has been my absolute mission, my main focus. I have sacrificed everything for it—the social life I never quite had anyway and the sleep I cannot afford to lose. I have balanced my medication and carefully managed my chronic pain purely to survive the gruelling daily practices in preparation for my solo. I have given everything that I have.

Introducing Julian Thorne into that equation isn’t an inconvenience. It is pure academic suicide.

I turn to look at Julian who hasn’t moved an inch. The unbothered act is gone and has been replaced by a dangerous look in his eyes. There is nothing to read, no flicker of what is happening behind them.

But God, he looks utterly devastating and completely lethal at the same time.

“Professor.” Julian begins, his voice calm and controlled. “With all due respect, our performance styles are completely—”

“Mismatched.” Mathias interrupts, not even looking up. “I am entirely aware, Mr. Thorne, which is precisely why I am forcing the issue. Miss Vance is a pristine soloist, and you refuse to put an ounce of actual discipline into your undeniable gift. You want to excel in the Showcase?” He pauses with what feels like the longest pause, ever. “Merge your worlds. Find a piece of music that bridges the gap.” He extends a single finger towards the door. “Now, get out of my office.”

Just like that.

There is no room for argument.

Julian pushes his chair back with a burst of reckless energy, not bothering with a courteous goodbye as he storms out into the corridor.

I stand up a second later, my knees popping loudly—a brutal and physical reminder of the sheer stress my body is currently under, and I turn to follow Julian.

This is insane. This is absolutely, categorically insane.

A duet with Julian Thorne is never going to work.

We are going to destroy each other before the first note even leaves my strings.