Page 95 of Love & Notes

“I literally haven’t said a single word.”

“You’re saying everything you need to, without making a sound, Mads.”

“I was wondering where you have been all weekend.” She smirks. “Is it because of him?”

It isn’t a real question. She tilts her head subtly towards the entrance hall where Julian is standing with his friends. Leather jacket, hands shoved in his pockets, dark hair falling forward over his brow in that exact handsome way it did when he was hovering over me.

Right as we pass, his eyes drop from his friends and lock directly onto mine, and he smiles.

It isn’t his usual infuriating smirk, but it’s a real smile. A smile meant exclusively for me.

My chest does something completely unreasonable.

Beside me, Maddie keeps talking.

“Come on.” She grabs my arm. “Tell me everything. Please. Girl, I have been going absolutely insane since Friday.”

“Maddie.”

“Just the highlights. A quick summary. Bullet points, even! I’ll take anything, Ellise.”

“I’m not giving you bullet points about my weekend.” I laugh. She really is hilarious.

“So there are bullet points.” Maddie turns to look at me. “I knew it! I called it. It was always going to happen!”

She beams.

“Tell me everything. I bet he is—.”

“Maddie.” I stare at her, refusing to say a word out loud, but a hopeless smirk slips past my defenses, giving her every single piece of confirmation she needed.

Her mouth drops open.

“Hell yes, Ellise.” She does a dramatic little jump in the air. “Hell! Yes!”

I quickly glance across the entrance hall. Julian is still watching me. His smile has shifted into something smaller, a dangerous glint in his eyes, like he can tell exactly what is happening from twenty feet away. He probably can, considering Maddie is jumping up and down, completely incapable of containing her joy.

“Right,” Maddie announces, linking her arm through mine and dragging me forward. “I need every single detail over coffee. Later. It’s non-negotiable.”

“There’s no point saying no, is there?” I laugh, shaking my head.

“None whatsoever.”

“Okay, but there are some things that I am keeping to myself.”

“Sharing is caring, girl.” She pushes. “Come on, I called this months ago. I deserve to know something.” She begs.

Technically, she isn’t wrong. She called it long before I was ever brave enough to admit it to myself.

I stay quiet, which she correctly interprets as victory, and the grin she gives me is easily the wildest thing I have ever seen on her face.

“God, I love being right,” she announces to no one in particular. “I am genuinely so good at being right.”

The weeks between the Gala and the start of Christmas break turn into something I didn’t expect. Not a routine exactly but more of a rhythm.

Julian and I continue practicing. The Nocturne is finally starting to sound like something real, which is a miracle given the absolute catastrophe we started with weeks ago.

We don’t explicitly talk about how our dynamic shifted after the gala. We don’t need to. It’s obvious in the music. It’s there in the lingering eye contact across the music stand, in the effortless way our phrasing blends, existing between us without either of us having to announce it out loud.