The film crew parts around me, watching with excited and awestruck expressions. They don’t try to stop me. My feet hit the stairs, and I descend as quickly as I can, the silky robe fluttering behind me. My violin case is around here somewhere; I just need to find it, and then I can leave.
“Nora?” Glancing to the right, I find Jordan and Alisha standing in the doorway, blinking at me in surprise. Jordan steps forward. “What’s wrong?”
“Dex—” My words are cut off by a sob.
Alisha and Jordan exchange a knowing look, then immediately surge toward me. They wrap their arms around my shoulders, enveloping me in lavender-scented warmth.
“I’m so sorry,” Jordan says.
“He’s a dick,” Alisha puts in.
“Such a dick,” Jordan agrees.
They fawn over me, whispering about what a fuckboy Dex is and stroking soft hands over my hair. And I appreciate it, I really do, but all I want right now is to get out of here. I can’t be in the same space as him anymore.
“Have you seen my violin?” I ask, voice still warbling with tears.
“Yeah, I did.” Alisha pulls away, her brown eyes sweeping the foyer. “I’m pretty sure it’s in here.” She disappears momentarily, then comes back with my case held in one hand. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” I take it from her and wipe a hand under my eye. I can only imagine how messy I must look. “I’m going home.”
“You want us to come with you?” Jordan offers. She’s playing with a strand of my hair, brow creased in concern.
“No, that’s okay. I just need to get out of here. I’ll be fine.”
We exchange final hugs and parting words, and just as I’m pulling away, there’s movement on the balcony above us.
I turn and look up, and my stomach clenches.
Dex is standing there, still shirtless, staring down at me. The cameras follow along behind him. He’s beautiful, too beautiful. It makes me hurt to look at him.
Jordan and Alisha cross their arms, faces pinching into scathing glares.
I don’t honor him with another second of my time. Instead, I hurry for the door, and I don’t look back again.
This will be the last time Dex Reid ever hurts me.
Never again, I tell myself. Never again.
chapter 25
TWO DAYS AFTER THE MUSIC video shoot, I block Dex’s number, then block him on social media as well. From now on, I want nothing to do with Dex Reid. Yearning for him is a physical pain inside my body, is an endless loop of thoughts that keeps me awake at night. And I can’t keep doing this to myself.
My life becomes a blur of rehearsals, concerts, and Legend of Volthorn. March slips away into April, then April into May. LA is hot now, and the city feels more hectic and chaotic than ever. I find myself enjoying it, find it cathartic to get lost in the crowds, just a nameless face.
That changes when the music video for “Ghost” comes out.
I watch it on my laptop, Margot on the table beside me, and I can’t keep tears from my eyes.
It’s beautifully done. From the cinematic shots to the stunning lighting and design, the music video is a piece of art.
As it approaches the end, my stomach squeezes in on itself. There Dex and I are, in bed, my legs on either side of his hips. The camera zooms in on my face as that first tear streaks down my cheek. Dex’s vocals play over the scenes, so you can’t hear what I say, but I can clearly read my own lips.
“Is it something I did?”
Now the camera is focused on him. Here, in my own kitchen, where I can pause the video and scrutinize every frame, I’m left wondering why his eyes look like that—pained, hollow. He’s the one who pushed me away, who made it very clear that he didn’t want to put a “label” on what I was to him.
And now we’re nothing.
It’s been long enough now that the pain shouldn’t still linger, but somehow, it does, and watching the video is like digging at the wound. So I close my laptop and tell myself I won’t watch it again.
Being out in the city changes after the video comes out. People recognize me. Two girls ask for a photo with me while I’m shopping for groceries at my local supermarket. Another shoves a notebook and pen into my hands for an autograph when I’m standing in line at my favorite yogurt place.
After that, I make sure never to leave the house with my hair not done. The stares and whispers become so prevalent that I start avoiding going out in public when I can. My mom says it’ll die down and that I just need to give it time. I hope she’s right.
Apart from my home, the orchestra is the only other place where I feel sane. Some of the musicians have asked me about playing with LGC, and one asks me to sign her violin case, but everyone else pretty much ignores me, as usual.
After rehearsal in early May, as our season is drawing to an end, Mr. Edrington reminds us of the upcoming audition for concertmistress. Even though I sit in the front row, he doesn’t look at me while he says it. He’s not the type to nettle, and he’s already asked me about the audition; I know he’s not going to ask again.
I want the spot so bad, but a wave of fear rises up in me: fear I won’t do a good job, fear I’ll make a fool of myself, fear I won’t be a worthy leader. Then, despite the months since I last saw his face, Dex’s voice comes back to me.
Sometimes quiet leaders demand even more respect . . . Promise me you’ll audition.
And that night, in the front seat of my car, I promised Dex I’d audition. I’m not sure why I feel beholden to the promise now—he certainly didn’t follow through with anything I expected of him.
I’m still turning my thoughts over when Mr. Edrington bids us a good day and everyone starts packing up and returning to the greenroom.
“You okay?” Eleanor asks from where she stands beside me. She’s looking down at me with concern, and I give her a smile and a nod. “All right. See you tomorrow.”
