in the back of my mind becomes a large, battering ram against my subconscious. Every instinct shouts at me to leave, to remember what he did to me, but I can’t get my feet to move. I want to hear what he has to say. I want to hear everything.
He licks his lips, the movement almost reflexive. “That you don’t play music for others. Fans. Agents. Crowds. You don’t play for them. Sure, they hear it, and if you’re a good enough musician, they can understand why you play, but they’re not your target audience. You only truly play for yourself. That…” He swallows heavily. “That stuck with me. And it made me realize that my dad may have brought me into the music world, but I’m staying in it because I want to. I’m staying because I love playing. I don’t need a band or anything to do what I love. Maybe in a few years, I’ll be the next Santana.”
We exchange soft smiles that aren’t laden with years of pain and hurt. No animosity pings between us as we stare at one another, his brown eyes locked with my amber ones. For a brief moment, I allow myself to imagine a future where we don’t hate each other. Where we, dare I say, have a chance of being friends.
Until Cassian has to open up his big, stupid mouth and ruin everything.
“Anyway, I told you we’ll make beautiful music together, baby. I’m compatible with just about everyone.” He chuckles darkly, even as his eyes turn guarded. Cruel. It’s almost as if…
Almost as if he’s afraid of the moment we just had. As if he felt the electrical pulse between the two of us just as I had and now wants to run from it.
“Just ask Mrs. Town,” he finishes with a sideways smirk.
The warm fuzzies I felt earlier dissipate, only to be replaced by something much, much colder. I mimic his cruel smile, even as my heart twists into a pretzel. At the same time, I refuse to believe that our interaction only meant something to me. He stared at me tenderly. Those brown eyes, flecked with gold, sparkled with a light I’ve never seen before. He wouldn’t do that if he really hated me.
But a tidal wave of unbridled anger quickly brushes those thoughts away.
“Then maybe you should go to her,” I suggest, trying not to feel hurt by his words. There’s no fucking reason for me to be. I hate him, after all. Despise him.
Even if we do make beautiful music together.
“Maybe I will,” he responds gruffly.
“Goodbye, baby,” I snap.
With a mocking smirk, I give him my back, a slight I know will piss him off. It shows him that I’m no longer afraid of him, that his words don’t hurt me, that I don’t perceive him as a threat. Not anymore.
I hear the sound of the door opening and closing as he leaves, and my grin widens.
I meant what I said.
Their downfall will be their own doing, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have a little fun along the way.
Smirking at my sudden epiphany, I check to make sure I’m alone before reaching into my backpack and grabbing the voodoo doll with black, coarse hair wrapped around its neck.
Cassian apparently can’t keep his cock out of women.
Maybe I can help him with that…
Chapter 15
The rumors reach me at lunchtime.
Even before I sit down, whispers surround me, causing my grin to broaden even further.
“…so big.”
“You saw it, right?”
“I wonder what happened.”
I’m feeling pretty damn smug when I throw myself into the chair opposite Emmett, who’s currently bent over his textbook to prepare for a test later today.
“What’s the smile for?” he asks with an easygoing grin. “Did you commit a murder? Because I’ll have you know, I already hid one body this week. I don’t think I want to hide another one.”
“No murder. No body.” My smile turns fucking dopey as he leans across the table, his arm muscles bunching enticingly.
“What’s up?”
“Did you hear?” Mariabella hurries to our table like a whirlwind of sleet, pelting and destroying everything in her path. Karsyn stands behind her, resembling a grumpy, scowling bodyguard. His eyes dart to me as he moves to take the seat beside her. When I meet his gaze point-blank, he quickly glances down at his tray of noodles and his carton of milk.
“Hear what?” Emmett asks eagerly. I’m beginning to believe that Emmett enjoys gossiping more than most girls. And no, I’m not saying that to