OVER THE NEXT few days, Victoria busied herself with classes and getting settled into a manageable routine. Charla had taken her under her wing, and Victoria didn't protest too much even though she sometimes felt like Charla's new prize show pet. She was grateful to Charla for bringing her into her circle of friends and for making the transition a lot smoother than she could have hoped for. Senior year at Windsor actually had the makings of a good year.
She hadn't read anymore of the journal, ignoring its pull every time she looked at the music box, but she'd kept wearing the amulet. Every day following her acceptance of her power, she'd felt the magic grow more and more inside of her. Yet Victoria still found herself reticent to explore it. The power scared her, and the fear of being like Brigid terrified her. She held on to "staying normal" like a lifeline, and for the most part, Leto seemed to understand her desperate need for normalcy.
On top of that, it had been almost two weeks since her shattering kiss with Christian. Even the mere thought of him sent her heart into a panicked whirlwind and made her bones feel like they were made of rubber. She couldn't fathom how someone could make her feel so conflicted—wanting to see him yet dreading it at the same time, and then being disappointed if she didn't. It was exhausting!
She'd found herself breathless on several occasions when she'd seen someone who looked like him walking across the campus or in the town. But it was never Christian and she'd always felt curiously deflated. Victoria was sure that something was wrong with her.
She found herself thinking about him again as she walked toward the music hall between classes and gave herself a mental shake. "Get a grip, Tori," she told herself. "Christian Devereux is not part of your life and you are better off without someone like him. Forget him." She took a deep breath in support of her declaration, and walked into the building.
Her job as an assistant to Windsor's Junior Youth Orchestra kept her busy, and included assisting with attendance paperwork and coordinating rehearsals for the band. So far, she liked it. Charla called it her "Band Geek Job" but Victoria didn't mind. Being around music was therapeutic.
An alumnus of Julliard, her mother had been a concert pianist and Victoria's childhood had been filled with music. She'd learned to play the piano at the same time she'd learned to talk. Despite her natural talents, she'd stopped playing the day her parents died.
"Hey Tori!" a young man with a tuba called out waving. She turned to wave back making her way to the front office and crashed into someone on his way out. She fell straight back into an ungainly heap on the floor.
"We really have to stop meeting like this," a wry voice said, extending a hand to help her up. "At least this time it's not me on the ground."
Victoria grimaced from the pain shooting up her backside and ignored Christian Devereux's proffered hand. She pulled herself up and glared at him.
"What are you doing here?" she snapped, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye as he stuffed his hand back into his pocket. His face was expressionless, guarded, and still as compelling as she'd remembered. Her gaze flicked to the floor.
"Rehearsing."
"But you're not in the band. You don't even attend Windsor."
"I'm a guest soloist for the performance," he said, moving past her and brushing her arm as he stooped to pick something up off the floor. Almost immediately she could feel the flush start in her toes and work its way all the way up the backs of her knees to her ears. "You dropped this," he said, and handed her a clipboard.
"Thanks," she said, concentrating on the fabric of his sweater and not the way it hugged his body beneath it, which was an entirely hopeless effort. Her eyes swung to his face, avoiding his eyes and fluttering to his lips instead. Her chest flared. Focusing on a point on the opposite wall, Victoria gritted her teeth, ears flaming and pushed past him, suddenly desperate to escape him. "Well, okay, see you."
"See you." His response was soft, and something lingering in the two words tugged at her. She ignored it and after a few minutes he walked away.
Victoria felt her heartbeat calm after heaving several large gulps of air into her lungs. Her arm still burned where his shoulder had grazed against it, and she rubbed at it furiously as if trying to erase his touch. It brought back feelings and words she didn't want to think about—the sound of him saying that kissing her had been a mistake and the humiliation she'd felt that was now returning in hot, violent waves.
Get it together, Victoria. It's over and done with. Ignore him. You have a job to do, so do it, she told herself fiercely.
Christian wasn't at the rehearsal and Victoria assumed that he was off practicing in another room. The band shifted on the stage for a new song, and Victoria distributed the sheet music. She heard the music director call her name.
"Can you give Christian a folder, please?" he asked.
"Sure." Christian walked over and she handed him a booklet with the piano sheet music.
"Violin," he said.
"What? But you play the pi—"