Breaking Hearts (B-boy #3) Read online

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, alarmed at the crestfallen expression her face.

  “I just feel guilty, that’s all.”

  “Oh? About what?”

  She sucked in a deep breath. “When Jinny told us she was engaged, I thought it was stupid. I mean, who gets married at our age, you know?”

  “Understandably,” I murmured, not knowing how to respond.

  “We went out that night I met you, more as an engagement celebration than a bachelorette party. I mean, they hadn’t even sent out invitations or like, you know, announced it. I went along with the party because I was feeling a bit down that day, but I don’t think my sadness was only caused by losing the part to Sarah.”

  I didn’t think she wanted me to respond, so I remained quiet.

  “I guess I was jealous of Jinny…and Raphael. To find someone you knew you wanted to spend your life with it at such a young age.”

  “Didn’t you just say…” I began to interrupt until I saw the expression on her face. It was as if embarrassment and guilt had a lovechild and called it Mallory. I immediately zipped my mouth shut and urged her to continue.

  “I know it’s ironic, especially since I just said that I thought getting married at such a young age is stupid…but to just be so certain about it. Relationships just seem impossible to me.”

  “They’re not impossible.”

  Her snort echoed in the tiny car. “Oh, really? The fact that Raphael and Jinny obviously know how to prioritize time, whereas I just pour myself into one thing and practically ignore other aspects in my life just shows it’s impossible for me. It’s a wonder I still have friends like Jinny and Claudia in my life.”

  “Mallory,” I said softly, reaching out hesitantly until my hand landed on her thigh. She sucked in her breath at the contact, but didn’t demand I pull away. “You’re preaching to the choir. I know what it’s like to push people away out of the guise of a passion—a hobby.”

  “A career,” Mallory corrected.

  I nodded. “It’s not like we don’t know how to prioritize our time or that we can’t multi-task. It just seems that we’re afraid of giving our all to somebody else because we’re Type A’s…we’re afraid of failure. We can control how much we practice and work, but we can’t control how other people feel about us.”

  “Did you…did you mean what you said about guys doing all they can to spend time with a girl they care about?” she asked, never taking her eyes off the road.

  “Of course. I’d think that goes for any gender,” I replied quietly.

  There was something that shifted in the car, an unspoken feeling that weighed heavily in the air. It wasn’t suffocating, but uplifting.

  I watched as Mallory gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter, the vinyl squeaking underneath her hold. “You know what Claudia said earlier? About what that girl Ellie told you? Do you want me to help you get over your performance…er…anxiety?” I asked, suddenly feeling desperate to prolong our time together. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but I knew the end was coming soon. I needed to postpone it as much as possible.

  She braved a quick glance at me. “Really?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. And it doesn’t have to be to get rid of this jinx or whatever, since we don’t really know what’s causing it. Let me help you as a thank you for putting up with me for the last few weeks.”

  There. That wasn’t too obvious.

  “As a thank you,” she repeated. There was something off about her tone, something disappointed and slightly annoyed. “Uh, I guess that sounds okay.”

  “It’s the least I could do,” I said, with my heart pounding. Did I say something wrong to piss her off? I didn’t think so.

  “That’s fine,” she replied shortly. Wondering what caused the change in her mood, I almost asked, but timing wasn’t on my side that night. “We’re here.”

  The car pulled to a stop in front of the apartment complex. Never in my life had I hated the sight of the teal and beige painted building more than at that moment.

  Without a word, Mallory eyed me, as if mentally pushing me out of the car. I obliged, drowning in confusion. Once I was in the street, I closed the door and bent over until my head peeked through the open window. “So I’ll text you tomorrow? We can practice at your place?”

  “Let’s do it at school,” she shot back.

  I frowned. “Uh, okay.”

  Giving me one curt nod, she peeled off, turning into the busy street. I watched her red tail lights disappear into the distance, feeling a surprising void pitted in my chest.

  Chapter 25

  Mallory

  Did I actually think he was going to confess his feelings for me?

  I smacked my tongue, feeling disgusted with myself. “And this is exactly why I can never be like Jinny and Raphael. I’m too stupid to know how to handle my feelings.”

  ***

  Once again Asher decided not to call or text first, appearing unannounced at the music building. I bit back a groan as I watched a few of my classmates clearly checking him out, though I really couldn’t blame them. In a slim pair of dark jeans and one of those surfer type tank tops that accentuated each muscle in his arm, he looked straight out of a magazine. Still, as I eyed my classmates gawking at him, I couldn’t help but wonder if people have any shame anymore.

  At least Sarah was too distracted with Damien for her to notice Asher hovering by the exit, though I couldn’t fathom how you’d even miss someone who looked like him. Regardless, I took the opportunity to grab Asher away before she noticed him.

  Pulling him toward the back row of the auditorium, I hissed, “What are you doing here?”

  “I told you I’d help you practice, right?” he replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I remembered your M-W-F classes lasted all day, so I figured I’d just come toward the end.”

  He remembered.

  I desperately looked behind me, letting out a sigh of relief when I saw Sarah grab her things and walk out the door with Damien. Good God, could they be more obvious?

  I turned back toward Asher and nodded primly. “Fine. But I don’t know how you can help me out. B-boying is way different than piano.”

  He gestured toward the gigantic front of the musical hall, taking in the looping red velvet curtains and the wooden floor, which seemed even shinier under the gigantic stage lights. “You have a stage—albeit a much grander one—some music, and a performer. All the same things we do in breakdancing, honey.”

  “Whatever you say.” I hated myself for allowing my heart to leap at the word ‘honey.’ Asher was exactly like me, he’d never have the time to pursue something beyond finding a fix for a jinx. Why even get worked up about him? Yet as I stared at his solemn eyes, I knew it was far too late to turn back.

  My palms felt slick, clammy with sweat. I wiped them against the cloth of my leggings and rocked back from heel to toe. “Okay, teacher extraordinaire. What do I do first?”

  “First you are going to sit up there and play for me,” he said authoritatively with a nod of his head.

  I cringed. “But I’ve already played for you.”

  “You played near me, not for me.” He gestured toward the grand piano, which was a far cry from the clunker he’d seen in my living room. “Besides, I’ve never heard you play on something like that. You only played on that clunker at your house”

  “Hey, that clunker happens to be one of my most prized possessions. She’s perfect,” I muttered, feeling oddly defensive of my baby back home.

  He bowed his head in apology. “Please, just play. I want to see what I’m working with.”

  I bit my lip and let out a deep breath. “Fine. Give me a second.”

  He followed me quietly, taking a seat in the front row as I climbed the steps to the piano. I sucked in my breath as I eyed the shiny black paneling, which suddenly reminded me of a fancy coffin. But play for Asher wasn’t going to kill me…I hoped.

  As usual, the same strains of stage fr
ight and fear wrapped their ugly claws around my body. My breaths felt shallow, but I fought through it, reminding myself that it was only Asher out in the audience. It was only the guy who I’d slept with, gotten arrested with, and visited a witch doctor with.

  Asher was just a guy and he was here to help.

  Too bad those affirmations didn’t work at all.

  I was still more nervous than usual and desperately needed to find something else to help me calm down. Of course using the old standby of imagining the audience in their underwear wouldn’t help me out either. Besides the fact that I’ve already seen him in his underwear—not to mention in his birthday suit—pretending he was in that sexy pair of maroon boxer briefs may lead me to jump him instead of tackling my music.

  “Why are you stalling?” I flinched as his voice boomed inside the empty hall.

  “I’m not stalling,” I hissed, taking stock of how each finger trembled. I was being so ridiculous.

  “Then play!” he barked like some sort of drill sergeant.

  Like a kid winding up a toy, I felt invisible hands urging my fingers back onto the keys. At the risk of playing like a robot, my fingers moved up and down the scales almost automatically.

  I allowed myself to get lost in the music, but not too lost. I needed to make sure each note was perfect, my timing on point, and that the song as a whole was technically sound. I’d often heard of people who were self-taught, and though absolutely talented and wonderful, I couldn’t imagine not learning the mechanics from day one. I needed the limits and I needed the control. Efficiency was my middle name, after all.

  Yup, just call me Mallory Efficiency Carmichael, I thought wryly.

  After what felt like the longest piece I’d ever played, I pressed the last note and pulled away, expecting to hear something—anything—from Asher. Maybe a soft round of applause or at least a ‘wow’ but I was met with nothing.

  I scooted back on the bench and turned at my waist, glancing down at him nervously. He was leaning forward, arms draped over his dark jeans, staring at me with a brooding intensity. The silence was suffocating and so thick, like cold butter I’d need to cut with a knife.

  “Well?” I demanded when I felt as if I couldn’t take it anymore “Do you have anything to say to me? What did you think?”

  “I’m still thinking.” He made a show of cocking his head to the side and staring off at the ceiling, narrowing his eyes as he examined the buzzing spotlight.

  I rolled my eyes. “Come on, coach. You said you were going to help me, so help me. Stop stalling.”

  He took an audible breath, which seemed to bounce across the gigantic room. Almost in slow motion, he rose to his feet and took a methodical step toward me. As he walked, each footstep thumped against the wooden stairs leading up the stage echoing around me. I gulped, anxiously waiting for him. I both craved feeling him by my side and feared it.

  When he finally reached me, he looked down, and in the most calculated tone I’d ever heard him speak, said, “I have to say, it kind of sucked. I’m actually pretty disappointed.”

  My jaw nearly scraped the ground. “What? It sucked? How the heck could you even think that? It was perfect!”

  “Exactly.”

  I blinked slowly. Maybe all this black magic stuff was finally getting to him. Maybe he had finally gone off the deep end!

  “Come again?”

  He inhaled deeply and pointed to my sheet music. “You played it how I assume it is written on there.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “You played it. You didn’t perform it.”

  Like a kid throwing a tantrum, I crossed my arms in frustration and scowled. “What’s that supposed to mean, big shot?”

  “It means that it was cold! It was like swallowing straight up ice. There was a disconnection between you and your music. Honestly, had I not promised to help, I probably would have walked out by the fourth measure. It was just so excruciatingly boring.”

  “Some people just don’t appreciate classical music,” I jeered.

  “Mallory, if I’m going to help you, you have to be open to criticism,” he said sternly. “This isn’t some online tutorial video and I’m not some random internet commenter. I am really, truly, trying to help you. Have an open mind, why don’t you?”

  “I do have an open mind! I just don’t like being insulted,” I basically whined.

  He shut his eyes and shook his head. “Can we be adult here for a moment? I am trying to help you. Now help me out by listening to my advice.”

  “I am an adult, wiseass!” I exclaimed in my loudest Pterodactyl screech. I motioned down the length of my body. “You see this? I’m adulting to the extreme. I am a full grown woman.”

  His breath hitched as his jaw clenched. “I can see that.” He cleared his throat and shot me a sly smile that caused my insides to clench. “I knew you were all woman since the night I first met you.”

  My head felt hot. My whole body felt hot. I coughed a bit and placed my hands back onto the keys, staring at my fingernails, which had just begun to grow back. I never let them grow back. I’d been so sidetracked with this whole Asher thing, that I’d let something so simple as my growing nails slide…then again, it actually felt oddly relieving to do so. A bit rebellious, it was even exhilarating.

  Gosh, am I really that uptight that growing my fingernails out is almost orgasmic?

  Lost in my thoughts, I almost didn’t notice Asher taking a seat beside me until he gently nudged me away. I gulped, feeling his hips brush up against mine. The last time we were this close to one another we were naked.

  Considering how fiery my cheeks felt, I was pretty sure you could fry an egg straight on my face. I coughed uncomfortably, slipping on a mask of pure impassiveness. “Okay, teacher. What do you have for me? Do you even know how to play?”

  Throwing me a smug smile, he placed one index finger on G and the other on E. Before he even hit the first notes, I rolled my eyes and snorted. “Chopsticks, of course.”

  Winking, he played as if he had no other care in the world. Despite the simplicity of the melody, even I had to admit there was something about the way he played that made it almost impossible to look away. He definitely commanded attention, I’d give him that.

  Upon hitting the final note, he sat back and looked at me pointedly. “Well?”

  “Well, what?” I muttered, only guessing the direction the conversation would be going.

  “How did I do?” The way he cracked each of his knuckles was almost painful to listen to.

  “You were a bit clunky and your A was a bit short. It’s not staccato, Asher.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Admit it. You couldn’t get enough of me, could you?”

  If he only knew the truth behind those words. I pulled my lips inward, bouncing my shoulders simultaneously.

  “Staying mum, hmm?” Chuckling softly, he reached out and pushed my shoulders back, quickly dropping a hand to press against my diaphragm.

  “W-what are you doing?” I stammered with my eyes wide as saucers.

  He pulled a hand off my shoulder, but kept his other planted firmly on my stomach. “You play a bit hunched over, did you know that?”

  I racked my brain, recalling old performance videos. Like everything else about my music, I was sure it was perfect. Technical to a T. There was no way I played like a slob. I was so insulted and confused that I didn’t even realize that his hand was still on me. “I have perfect posture, thank you very much. That’s like first lesson stuff! How dare you accuse me of—”

  “Being anything less than perfect?” he suggested. When I didn’t respond, he sighed. “I know that your back is straight, but there is something off about your shoulders. It’s odd.”

  He scanned me slowly, lingering on my collarbones. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was remembering kissing them just weeks ago. Damn, that did feel nice…

  Wait a minute, what was I doing?

  Worried that he’d figure out how turned on I was, I quick
ly pulled away from him. Busying myself with gathering my sheet music, I forced a scowl on my face. “That’s impossible. I’ve been sitting the same way since I was five years old.”

  “Then you’ve been sitting the wrong way for sixteen years,” he replied with a smirk. “It’s strange, but it's like your spine is disconnected from your shoulders. Pretty talented really…if you were a b-girl, it’d be a really interesting move.”

  “Well, I’m not a b-girl. I’m a pianist who wants to perform this solo,” I snapped.

  “About that…if you hate performing as much as you make it seem, why do you want this solo so badly?” I couldn’t really fault him for asking. It was such an odd paradox.

  I bit my lip once again, a nervous tick, slowing grazing my teeth against it from side to side. I noticed that he was watching me do so, licking his own lips and mimicking the movement, but I decided not to call attention to it. “Claudia asked me the same thing.”

  “And what did you tell her?”

  I sighed. “As much as I hate being in the spotlight, I want recognition for all my hard work.”

  “So it’s not about the attention, but more about the accolades?” he asked doubtfully.

  “I guess?” I answered unsurely.

  “That’s bullshit.”

  I lifted my eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

  “It is bullshit. B-U-L-L-S-H-I-T.”

  “Can you use it in a sentence?” I quipped with a shake of my head. My long, yellowish strands swung to the side, smacking him across the face.

  Good.

  Then again, he didn’t seem to care.

  Almost nonchalantly, he flashed his cute grin as if it would lessen the effects of his insults. It didn’t work…much. “You’re craving to have your moment in the spotlight, you’re just scared. I think you’re subconsciously sabotaging it.”