* * * * *
Eric had walked into second period music class that day wearing department store jeans, scuffed Converse sneakers and a dark grey fedora. His t-shirt had said, “I’m with stupid,” with an arrow pointing up.
From the back corner of the classroom, I gave the new boy a once-over. Then another one.
“Bet he plays the sax,” Charlie said, his voice low.
I leaned forward on the piano bench. “He looks more like a drummer.” I eyed the bass drum Charlie was leaning against. “Maybe you’ll get demoted to cymbals.”
He hugged the bass drum like a teddy bear. “No way, this baby is mine.”
I laughed.
“I heard his parents died in a car accident,” Charlie whispered.
“That’s so sad.” I’d lost one parent, I couldn’t imagine losing both. Although with Dad never around it almost felt like I had.
Rumors flew about Eric—his Dad had overdosed on drugs, his mom had committed suicide, his parents were too poor to afford their kids, the usual stuff. Charlie and I became friends with Eric, and eventually we learned the truth.
Eric and his older brother, Evan Wentworth, were Somerset High’s newest Charity Cases. Their parents had died in a car accident (Charlie had been right about that), leaving the two boys and their sister, Sophia, with no other family. Their mother was an alumnus at the school so as some kind of outreach program, the school board gave Eric and Evan scholarships to finish out high school.
I didn’t know that on his first day though. All I saw was a very cute new boy who was staring at me. I realized I’d been grinning at his t-shirt and quickly looked away. Maybe he thought I was laughing at him. After a few seconds, I risked another glance. His eyes were still on me.
“Ah, Mr. Wentworth.” Our music teacher, Mr. Sachs, called everyone miss or mister. He probably thought we’d behave better. “What instrument do you play?”
“Piano,” Eric replied.
“Ha!” Charlie whisper-shouted.
I squirmed on the piano bench. That’s why he’d looked at me—he wanted my instrument.
“I see.” Mr. Sachs’ eyes moved to me. “I’m afraid, Miss Elliot, the piano will no longer be yours alone.”
I hung my head, hiding my disappointment.
“I expect you to work together,” Mr. Sachs said, “to come up with a plan on how best to split your time at the keys.”
Eric sidled up beside me on the bench. My eyes narrowed. Cute new boy had just become my competition and I wasn’t pleased.
“Now, let’s play.” Mr. Sachs flourished his arms as if we were the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra rather than a bunch of high school kids.
I played through Bach’s “Air on the G String,” a song that made every kid in class giggle when Mr. Sachs said the title aloud. I knew the piece by heart. The only time I made a mistake was when I glanced at Eric and noticed him staring at my hands.
Our teacher began to nit-pick at different students, leaving the rest of us to practice on our own.
“Do you want to take a turn?” I figured I might as well be nice.
Eric nodded. I slid over but didn’t leave the bench. This was still my spot. He moved to the middle, his thigh pressed into mine. He didn’t seem to notice. I inhaled his clean, dryer-sheet scent.
Eric focused on the sheets of music; his fingers hovered over the keys. He began to play an air-version of the song, his fingers never touching the piano. I knew right then he wouldn’t need my help. The song was slow but his hands moved with practiced ease. When he played with the class, his fingers on the keys, all pride I’d felt at my own almost-perfect performance died a painful death. Eric Wentworth was at least my equal at the piano, if not better. Either that, or else he knew that particular song really, really well.
I looked back at Charlie and he raised his eyebrows at me.
Through the rest of class, we took turns at the keys, neither of us leaving the bench. It was actually easy, unspoken. Just a nod and we’d switch places. I found I didn’t mind sharing the piano with Eric Wentworth after all.
When class ended, Eric didn’t get up from the bench. He continued to pour out a melody, his head tilted to one side.
“You’re really good.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them.
His fingers jumped from the keys to his lap. He turned his head to look at me. We were so close on the piano bench that I could see myself in his deep blue eyes.
“Ava’s worried you’re gonna upstage her,” Charlie said.
Eric slid from the bench. “Nah.” He slung his backpack over one shoulder and flashed me a smile. “We can both have our moments to shine.”
He already outshone me, but I didn’t mind.
“I’m just sorry you have to share,” he said to me.
I shrugged. “No big deal.”
“She wouldn’t be saying that if you sucked,” Charlie said.
“I’m Ava.” I shouldered my backpack. “This is Charlie.”
“Eric.”
“Cool shirt, dude,” Charlie said as the three of us headed out of the classroom.
“This?” He plucked the t-shirt with his fingers. “They made a mistake when I went to get it screened. It’s supposed to be pointing down.”
“Really?” I asked.
“No.” His blue eyes twinkled.
“I gotta head to gym,” Charlie said. Still facing us, he backed down the hall. “Lunch later.”
I waved to Charlie and then turned to Eric. “What’s your next class?” My fingers fiddled with the smiley-face keychain hanging from my backpack.
“Um…” He pulled a sheet of paper from inside his bag. “Algebra.”
“Mine too. Do you want me to show you where it is?”
His wry smirk had then turned into a full-fledged smile. “Sure. Thanks.”
* * * * *
With eyes closed, I could see us whispering together during that first algebra class as if it was yesterday. I could still feel the heat on my cheeks when I invited him to lunch with Charlie and me. Tingles whispered over my skin when I remembered how nervous and excited I’d been that entire lunch hour.
Eric and I, we shared a bond, right from the start. First, it had been over the piano, and then as we came to know each other better, over our shared loss. Charlie was always there, part of our group, but never all there. Part of the same orchestra, but playing different pieces.
Like me, Eric kept his sadness wrapped tight around himself, but I could see it. I remember wanting to fix it, to help him. But despite the grief he carried with him every day, he had a confidence that I could never find in myself.
Later, much later, I realized that instead of fixing him, he was the one to fix me.
Chapter Five
Shopping was my family’s cure for everything. Depressed? Go shopping. Sad? Shopping. Need to celebrate? Shopping in Milan. Sick? Online shopping.
I slumped through the mall, distracted and broody. The shopping cure never worked as well for me as the rest of my family. I must have been missing some Elliot gene.
“It’s not that bad, you know.”
I looked up. Lexi was holding a black bag covered in gold studs and grommets.
“Ick.”
“You don’t like it?” Lexi looked at the price tag and sighed. “Too expensive anyway. Even you couldn’t afford it.”
I glared. “Way to make me feel better.”
“Better? Why, what’s wrong?”
I sighed. I hadn’t planned to tell Lexi about the Croft’s renting Kellynch until lunch. “Nothing.”
She fixed me with a pointy stare. “Bull.”
“We’ll talk about it later, promise.” I picked up a camel colored tote, stroked the buttery-soft leather. “What about this one?”
“Nice try.” She grabbed the tag an
d then flicked it out of her fingers. “Fendi. I can’t afford that either.”
“Oh, right.”
Lexi picked up another bag, then set it down in disgust after a glance at the price. “Can we leave this store and go to the Gap or something?”
Strolling through the mall, I ignored the shiny displays around me, the beautiful clothes, the annoying shoppers walking on my heels or cutting me off as if I was invisible. What would Eric think when he heard his sister would be living in Kellynch? Maybe he already knew. As far as I knew, Charlie had never met the Crofts. It was likely he’d heard they were looking for a place from Eric himself. I couldn’t believe Eric would recommend Kellynch to them. Then again, he knew what a beautiful home it was. And it had been eight years. We were both long over it by now.
“Ooh, Carter’s.” Lexi grabbed me by the arm and yanked me into a baby-clothing store. “Look how cute this is!” She held up a frilly, pink dress with white bows on it.
“Cute. Maybe a bit small for Elle?”
Lexi looked at the dress and frowned. “You’re right.” She searched through the rack. “Of course they don’t have her size,” she grumbled.
I followed her around the store, oohing and aahing at the many outfits, sleepers and hair bows she held up for my opinion. In five minutes she had half the store resting over her arm.
“Does Elle really need that much stuff?” Without any kids of my own, I didn’t have a clue, but one little girl probably didn’t need a wardrobe that would barely fit in my dad’s walk-in closet. She’d grow out of most of them in, what, two months?
“I’m not getting all this. I’ll narrow it down.”
“That ugly bag in Bloomingdale’s was probably the same price as all that.”
Lexi snorted. “Are you kidding me? This is Carter’s. This dress alone is $9.99.” I gave her a sheepish look when she held up the tag. “Besides, when you have kids, you end up spending all your money on them instead of yourself. Trust me.”
That life that could have been flashed through my head like some sappy home movie. I pushed aside daydreams of a little blond boy and girl squealing as their father chased them through a sunny park.
Lexi sorted through her stuff, narrowing it down to just four items. She put the rest back on the racks with a sigh.
I grabbed the pieces of clothing she’d put back.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Consider it two birthdays and two Christmases worth of presents.” She tried to argue, but I wouldn’t listen. My next credit card statement wouldn’t be pretty, but right now I didn’t care. I needed to do something for someone besides myself.
An hour later, we gave up shopping for eating. Lexi chose a café in the mall that had an Ahi Tuna burger she gushed about so enthusiastically, I half expected it to put on a show. Once the waitress had left with our order, Lexi leaned on the table and fixed her eyes on me.
“What’s going on? You’ve been awfully broody.”
I fiddled with a roll, turning it around in my hands. “Charlie found a renter.”
Lexi blinked. “Isn’t that a good thing?”
“Sure. Except…” I bit my lip. Lexi was going to give me a hard time for this. “It’s Sophia Croft.”
“Who?”
“Sorry, Croft is her married name. Her maiden name is—” My mouth twisted. “Wentworth.”
Whatever she’d wanted to say came out a garbled mess as she choked on her roll, but it wasn’t hard to figure out the gist of it.
I nodded. “Eric’s sister.”
Lexi burst out laughing. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I crossed my arms and waited for the laughing to abate. It took an annoyingly long time. “What are the chances?”
“Pretty great, I guess. Charlie probably told Eric we needed a renter. It was all just good timing. Or rotten, depending on how you look at it.”
“Eric and Charlie still keep in touch?”
“Obviously.” I winced at the edge of bitterness in my tone. “Anyway, it doesn’t really matter. It’s just…weird.”
She nodded. “But it’s not like he’s going to live there. He’s not even in LA and I doubt he’d want to come back. Look how long you stayed away.”
The house had been too painful, after. Too many memories. Eric had helped me overcome Mom’s loss, but there had been no one to help me overcome his. So instead of cutting my hair or getting a tattoo or going on a juice cleanse, I ran away from home and called it getting an education.
“I should have stayed in New York.”
The corners of Lexi’s mouth drooped. Silence stretched between us.
“I didn’t mean that,” I said.
She gave me a half-smile. “You probably won’t see him anyway.”
“Chances are slim.”
“Nil.”
“Almost non-existent.” I took a bite of roll, the chewy bread squishing pleasantly in my mouth.
“Although, his tour is almost over,” Lexi said. “I heard he’s finally looking to settle down.” I wanted to throw my half-eaten roll at her. “I bet he can afford his own mansion in the Hills. Maybe he’s actually the one renting Kellynch and his sister is just a front.”
“A front for what?” She shrugged and I snorted. “And you were mocking me for being the president of his fan-club! How do you know all this stuff?”
“Magazines. ET Online. Twitter. He’s totally trending.”
My eyes narrowed. There was never much about Eric’s personal life in the press. I had a feeling he liked to keep that out of the public eye as much as possible. So for Lexi to hear anything, she had to do some digging to find it.
“Wait. Let’s Google him.” With the roll sticking out of her mouth, she fumbled in her bag, eventually producing a phone.
I tapped my fingers on the table—an attempt at nonchalance. When our waitress appeared with our food a few minutes later, Lexi was still busy searching the internet, a scowl plastered on her face.
“There’s nothing useful,” she said when the waitress left. “No reports of what he’s doing now. Just record sales and…” She continued to scroll through her phone. “His tour is definitely over. Last stop was New York, two days ago.”
I tried to enjoy my flatbread sandwich and think of anything but Eric Wentworth. Lexi finally put her phone away and attacked her burger. After a few minutes of chewing, she broke the silence.
“Even if he did come back though…”
“I wouldn’t see him.”
“Maybe, but that’s not what I was going to say.” She swirled a couple of fries around in the bowl of ketchup. “You’re over him, right?”
“Of course.” I scoffed at the very thought of not being over him after eight years.
She hesitated. “Then why should it matter? If you see him, or he goes to Kellynch, it shouldn’t affect you.”
I swallowed, the lettuce going down harder than it should have.
“It doesn’t matter. I already said that.”
Then why couldn’t I shake this antsy, nerves tingling, heart jerking, almost-fear that had settled over me when I heard the Crofts might rent Kellynch? As if Eric was going to pop up right in front of me at any moment?
I had to restrain myself from actually searching the restaurant, as if he’d be in the exact same place as me in this exact moment. Even if he was, it didn’t matter. I was over him.
“Did you ever tell Kaz about Eric?” Lexi asked, breaking me from my thoughts.
“Sure.”
“No, I mean, really tell him.”
“Really tell him? What does that mean?”
“Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m saying.”
I sighed. “I don’t know, Lex. He came up a few times, but did we have a deep and detailed conversation about him? Of course not.” I watched her toy with the straw in he
r teeth, obviously waiting for more. “He was an ex. Do you talk in detail about your exes with your current boyfriends?”
“I don’t have a current boyfriend. Or boyfriends.” I shot her a look. “No, I guess I don’t talk about exes much. But Eric was more than just an ex.” She pointed her straw at me. “He was your freaking fiancé.”
The first few notes of a song flashed through my head but I pushed it away. “I told him that.”
“You did?”
“Well, yeah. High school sweethearts, young love, everyone knows the story.” I knew it first hand, and what a painful story it ended up being. “Kaz didn’t care.”
“Kaz didn’t care about anything but his cello.”
“Hey.”
“Sorry.”
I couldn’t be too mad at her; she was probably right about that. Kaz had loved me, but the only time he showed a glimmer of passion was when he held his cello in his arms. Eric, on the other hand, could hardly contain his passion. There were times when I lost myself in it, when it consumed me, and for a brief moment, I would burn as brightly as he did.
“You’re thinking about Eric again, aren’t you?” Lexi asked. She could tell by my face that she was right. “You know what? I think you’re obsessing about this a bit too much.”
“I—you’re right. It’s stupid.”
She grinned. “That’s what I’m here for—to shoo the stupid away. Or at least curb it a little. You’ve been gone awhile so I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”
“Thanks for that.” We finished our meal without talking about Eric again. Even later, when I was on my own, I didn’t think about him.
It was nice, while it lasted.
Chapter Six
My audition with Maestro Sauvin was a breeze. I played Rachmaninoff to perfection and he accepted me into the California Philharmonic on the spot. The income was small, not enough to get my own place, but it was something. And I’d get to see Lexi a lot.
Aunt Rose settled everything between the Crofts and my dad. They agreed to his rental terms—even his crazier demands like never watching Marlon Brando movies and banning no-name brands inside the house—signed the contract and set the move-in date.
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