I was horrified. Not only did I have more respect for myself than to date a professor, I certainly wanted no part in messing with his career—since that was all that tethered him to the land of the living.
Or was.
The way he’d kissed me back under that awning showed me something … more. There was life in those eyes. Sensation in those lips. Lust in his tongue.
He kissed me back.
Jesus, what now? I thought to myself as I scribbled answers inside a blue book.
Nothing. Semester over, problem solved. Pretend it never happened.
Chewing on my pen cap as I neared the end of the exam, with loads of time to spare, I glanced across the room at Nathan. As if sensing my eyes on him, he looked up from his paper and toward me. He’d texted me wanting to know if I was okay. I wasn’t, and I hated that I couldn’t talk to him about it because, for one thing, I’d lied to him. I’d known for weeks that what I’d been feeling for Gregory was nothing short of a crush but it was so, so much more. I hadn’t told him about the kiss, either, because I was afraid. Or ashamed.
I really wished, in that moment, that I had old friendship back on solid ground but … this seemed like something I’d have to deal with on my own for a while. But, I wanted Nathan and I to really be okay. We’d been friends for too long to let miscommunication screw us up now. So, I smiled at him. As I did, I watched his shoulders relax as he smiled back. Nathan was graduating in two weeks, and I knew he’d been auditioning for a few symphonies, and, well, I was going to miss him.
I gathered my things and took another look at my paper, scrawling one last thing on it before heading to Gregory’s desk, where he sat looking at pages of music I couldn’t readily identify.
“Here you go, Mr. Fitzgerald.” I couldn’t even fake a smile as I shakily placed the paper in front of him. I didn’t know if he had heard about the rumors involving the two of us. Probably not. If he had heard them, however, I found myself hoping he wasn’t furious with me for kissing him in the first place.
Even though he’d kissed me back.
“Thank you, Miss Marshall,” he muttered without looking up from his papers. That made my stomach turn. He wouldn’t look me in the eyes. Couldn’t, maybe. If he’d had any respect for me at all through the semester I’d made quick work of erasing it with a single kiss.
“You’re welcome,” I whispered, turning slowly from his desk, fighting tears all of a sudden.
“Savannah,” he called softly. Of course, a few heads in the front row popped up, undoubtedly studying our interaction.
I cleared my throat and turned back toward him, where I found his piercing blue eyes scanning my face. “Yes?”
He squared his shoulders a bit and I watched him swallow before he said, “Good luck.”
I nodded and left the classroom quickly, without saying thank you. I’d intended to wait for Nathan, but I was too big of a mess. I sprinted back to my dorm, tears streaming down my face.
Bursting through my door, I was relieved Marcia was still in her exam and I had the room to myself. I tossed my backpack on the floor and collapsed, facedown on my bed, sobbing into my pillow. The rumors didn’t bother me. The school year was over and before anyone realized it, something else would happen to get people talking. I’d survived a class with the notorious Gregory Fitzgerald and was pretty sure I’d end up with a decent grade.
If he could even objectively grade my exam at this point.
I gripped my comforter as the tears came harder, at the realization of their purpose in the first place. I was going to miss him. I was going to miss Gregory. Not his broody, insufferable, uptight exterior, but what I knew was inside of that. His passion, his musicianship. It was the music. It was him. They were one and the same, even if he couldn’t see it. I was going to miss the times he brought his cello to class to illustrate his lectures with music. Those moments where I felt like there was no one else in the room, because as soon as his bow slid across the strings I felt like it was just me, and him, and the music. God, the music.
His lips.
I’d only tasted his lips once, and the thought of never again curled me into the fetal position. I needed another way. Another way for this end, other than goodbye.
There was none. This was it.
Sitting up after several minutes, I forced myself to take a few deep breaths as I dried my tears. It was for the best that the year was over. I still had another year left at the conservatory and was bound to run into him at one time or another. I needed to learn to behave in a professional manner if I was ever going to get into a symphony when I left here—if that’s even what I wanted.
My phone rang, interrupting my spiraling train of thought. I smiled, seeing it was Madeline White. I couldn’t wait until fall, when I could resume instruction with her.
“Hello?”
“Savannah, dear, how are you? You sound like you’ve been crying.” She sounded genuinely concerned.
“Oh, you know,” I tried to sound nonchalant, “just finished my music theory final.” I laughed a little.
“That would do it to me, too.” She echoed my laugh. “Anyway, I’ve been waiting for you to finish up the last of your finals so I could talk to you about something.”
I sat up a little straighter as her tone brightened. “Yes?”
“As you know, I instruct at the Tanglewood Institute every summer.”
“Mm-hmm.” I nodded, and started pacing around my room, clearing all the Gregory clutter from my brain.
That’s where I first met Madeline, when I was a freshman in high school. The Institute is open to students entering ninth grade through those entering their sophomore year of college. I’d attended every year I was eligible to, and, frankly, missed it greatly last summer.
“Well, this is very unusual, and I had to make lots of noise and jump through several hoops to make this happen, but … I want you to shadow me there this summer, Savannah. I’d like you to work with me and instruct with me at the Institute.”