Chapter Theme Song: “All I Want” by Emma Bale.
The dawn light sneaks into my room, the hot sun kissing my face and nudging me awake. I sit up, rubbing sleep from my eyes, and notice the room is quiet and empty.
I glance at the nightstand and spot a small note. I reach for it, wiping sleep drool from my mouth with the back of my hand.
Thankfully, my literature class doesn’t start until nine, or else I would have been late for my first lecture.
I don’t care how tempting his red lips were or how his words seemed to cloud my judgment. My mom didn’t raise me to be like this—and my dad certainly didn’t either.
He’s probably up there, watching me, disappointed that I almost gave in to temptation last night.
What if April hadn’t come back when she did? I would have had my first kiss stolen by a boy I’ve only known for a day.
I get out of bed and head to the bathroom, rubbing my eyes to keep from tripping over my own feet. I’m still so tired.
I brush my teeth with half-closed eyes and then step into the shower. The cold water jolts me awake, and soon, I’m feeling refreshed.
Looks like Homewood’s infamous icy showers will be useful for mornings like this.
I pull on a light-yellow shirt with flower-shaped cleavage and a pair of jean shorts.
My hair is a handful, so to save time, I run my fingers through it and tie it into a messy bun. I’ll try to straighten it over the weekend or something.
Brushing a few stray curls from my face, I grab my backpack from my bed. My phone dings from the nightstand, reminding me not to leave it behind.
I don’t use my phone much, except to call Callum or my mom. I don’t have social media or any of the other apps people my age usually have on their phones.
Mine is filled with reading apps and diet calendars my mom asked me to download a few months ago.
With my bag on my back, I unlock my phone and see two messages.
I sigh and facepalm. How could I forget something so important? I check my Flo calendar app and see that my period is due tomorrow.
The drive home would be too long, so I decide to pick some up from the mall after class. My mom will probably be disappointed.
I can just imagine how excited she was to have an excuse to see me so soon. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was the one who took them out of my bag on purpose. I’m almost certain I packed them.
I leave the dorm, locking the door behind me and tucking the key into my backpack’s side pocket. I have about ten minutes before class starts, so I pick up my pace.
As I turn the corner, I see two people leaning against the wall.
It doesn’t take me long to recognize Blaze Xander and a red-haired girl. I squint and realize it’s the same petite girl from orientation—the one who asked if he had a girlfriend.
She’s blushing and giggling, and Blaze has his hands in his pockets, probably saying something charming to her.
April was right. But I’m not upset; I’m relieved that I didn’t let him kiss me last night. That would have been my biggest regret of the year.
I consider turning around and taking the long way, but that would make me late for class.
I won’t be late because two teenagers can’t control their hormones. So, I keep walking, keeping my head down, hoping he won’t notice me.
I walk past them, staring at the floor and gripping my bag straps.
I hear Blaze whisper something to the girl, followed by her giggling, and just when I think I’ve made it past them, he spots me.
“Hey, Harmony.”
I pretend not to hear him and keep walking, silently cursing the length of this hallway.
He quickly says something to the girl before catching up with me.
“Good morning.” He grins, his cool scent filling my nostrils. I barely glance at him as I quicken my pace. He tries to keep up, but I can tell it’s a struggle.
“Can I talk to you?”
“I have class at 9,” I reply flatly. I sound annoyed, and I check myself. Why am I mad? Is it because he was talking to that redhead? He’s not my boyfriend.
“It’s 8:58, do you have to be in class on time?”
I look at him like he’s grown a second head, and he smiles, one corner of his mouth twitching up. “Uhm, yes.”
“Woah. I usually show up an hour late—or not at all. You’re a really good girl, aren’t you?”
I swivel my gaze to him and there’s a faint smirk playing on his lips, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. I avert my eyes, feeling a bit uncomfortable as he starts to speak again.
“You know what they say, right? All good girls have a bad side. It just takes the right guy to bring it out.”
I quicken my pace, my feet nearly tripping over each other, and he sighs as he grabs my arm. A surge of electricity shoots through me. His hand is surprisingly soft for a guy.
“Wait up.”
I halt, letting out a sigh as I meet his gaze. “What’s up? Do you need something?”
He lets go of me, his lips curving into a smile. “Do you always talk like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m your professor. It’s kind of sexy, but—”
“It’s called being polite,” I retort. “Maybe you’re not familiar with that...”
“What class do you have now?”
“Literature. I gotta go, bye.” I spin around and make a quick exit down the hallway. Thankfully, he doesn’t try to stop me this time.
I struggle a bit to find the room for my class. I’m still getting used to this massive campus.
It’s 9:10 a.m. when I slide open the glass door, a few students turning to look at me.
I hate being late because it means everyone’s attention is on me. I hate being the center of attention.
I’ve always been the type to arrive five minutes early, but thanks to Blaze and the confusing campus map, I’m running late.
The professor glances up at the sound of the door closing but doesn’t say anything, returning his focus to the board.
I hurry over to a seemingly empty chair, my flat shoes clicking against the marble floor, drawing curious glances from some people.
As I get closer, I notice a bag on the seat, and I turn to the guy sitting next to it. “Is this yours?”
He looks at me, his handsome face lighting up instantly. “Oh yes, sorry.”
He grabs it and I smile gratefully as I sit down, swinging my backpack onto my lap to pull out my materials.
I can feel his eyes on me and I glance at him, feeling a bit self-conscious. He smiles, his hazel eyes sparkling with friendliness. “Are you a freshman?”
“Cool. I’m a sophomore. I didn’t take this class last year, so I have to take it this year.”
“Oh, I see.” I nod slowly as I pull out my pink fluffy pencil case, placing it next to my book in perfect alignment. “Well, welcome to college.”
He chuckles quietly, careful not to interrupt the professor’s writing on the board. “I’m the sophomore; that’s my line.”
I give a small smile. “Sorry, I just had to say it. It sounds cool in the movies, so…”
He laughs softly. “Are you OCD?”
I furrow my brows, and he points to my desk. “Your books and pencil case are perfectly aligned.”
I glance at them, then back at him, laughing lightly. “Uh, my mom is, and I guess it’s kind of rubbing off on me.”
He smiles. “I have a few tendencies myself.” He runs a hand through his brown, bouncy hair before extending it toward me. “By the way, I’m Malcolm. You can call me Mal.”
I take his hand, my face lighting up. “I’m Harmony Skye.”
His lips twitch into a smile and he leans back in his chair, tilting his head to the side. “That’s a really nice name.”
I smile. “Thank you.”
He grins and I look away shyly before focusing on my notebook to start taking notes.
“Another thing you should know is that the food here is gross as hell,” Mal tells me as we leave the lecture hall, and I chuckle as I look up at him, hanging onto every piece of advice he’s giving me.
He’s been here for two years now, so he knows the place inside out. His words are like gospel to me, I need to soak up everything like a sponge.
So far, he seems like a really great guy, and it’s nice to finally meet someone here who seems grounded and composed.
I scrunch up my nose with a smile, gripping my backpack straps while swinging in my steps. “I tried the sandwich from their snack bar, it wasn’t too bad.”
“The snack bar isn’t bad, but the cafeteria? It’s terrible. I think Pat needs to get us better lunches.” We both laugh.
In the midst of our shared laughter, my eyes catch sight of an open room, and inside is a shiny black piano. A pang of nostalgia hits me, and my throat tightens as a wave of memories wash over me.
My dad used to let me sit on his lap and he would play the piano while we sang along to the tunes.
Since his funeral, I haven’t touched the instrument. It brings back too many bittersweet memories and I don’t think I can handle it.
I fight back the urge to cry as I look at Mal. “Is that the music room?”
He nods. “Yeah...you like music?”
I nod with a sad smile, scratching my forehead. “Yeah.”
I glance back at the piano, a strong desire to play it washing over me.
It’s been a long time, and just for today, I want to bear the pain and relive what it was like—to sit on my dad’s lap while he played my favorite songs.
I turn to Malcolm who is already watching me with a warm smile. “I’ll catch up with you later. I want to try it out.”
He smiles at this. “You can play?”
I give a small shrug, my gaze dropping to the floor as I scuff my shoe against it. “Maybe a little...”
“Cool. Maybe I could hear you play sometime?”
A week after my dad passed away, I tried to play at his funeral. I ended up breaking down in the middle of it. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to perform without turning into a crying mess.
But instead of sharing that, I just offer a small smile. “Sure, maybe.”
He grins back at me. “Great. I play the flute too, so we can swap skills.”
I nod. “Sounds good.”
He smirks. “Alright then...see you around.” He gives me a playful salute, then steps back before turning to walk down the hall.
I watch him until he disappears around the corner, then slowly make my way into the music room. Thankfully, it’s empty, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
I close the door behind me, taking in the sight of the various instruments scattered around the room.
The walls are adorned with beautiful artwork, and a row of seats in one corner suggests that performances are held here occasionally.
A large window on the right wall is covered by a colorful curtain, gently swaying in the afternoon breeze.
I take a seat at the piano, setting my backpack at my feet. I let out a deep breath and slowly lift the cover of the piano.
The first note that rings out fills me with a deep sense of longing. I’d forgotten how incredible it feels to play this instrument.
Even though thoughts of my dad are painful, there’s a sense of peace that manages to break through. This is what I was born to do—music.
But it doesn’t feel quite right unless I’m singing, so I open my mouth and start to sing “All I Want” by Emma Bale.
My voice is soft and soothing, each word echoing gently off the walls of the room.
A single tear rolls down my cheek, and I stop singing, wiping it away quickly.
“Why’d you stop?”
I jump at the sudden voice, my eyes wide and teary as I see Blaze standing up from behind a wall. He was here the whole time? I freeze as it sinks in that he heard me sing.
I stand up quickly, grabbing my bag to leave, but he’s already in front of me, his hands shoved in his pockets.
I look up at him and he looks back, his expression serious. “Why’d you stop?”
I look down at my shoes, trying to hide the tears in my eyes. “The song’s over.”
“It wasn’t. You still had another verse and a chorus to go.”
Seeing my surprise, he nods and shrugs. “Yeah, I do. ‘All I Want’ by Kodaline. You were singing Emma Bale’s version.”
He continues to surprise me. I thought he’d be more into rock music, but the more I talk to him, the more I realize I was wrong.
He’s far more interesting than I initially thought.
“You have a nice voice,” he says. “I didn’t know you could sing.”
“I can’t—I mean, I’m not very good.”
“I disagree. I enjoyed it. I usually don’t care about much, but I’d pay to hear you sing. It’s...comforting.” He says the last part almost under his breath, but I still catch it.
His words always leave me blushing; he has a way with them. But every time I start to get lost in his compliments, I remember everyone’s warnings and pull myself back.
“I...need to go,” I mumble, stepping past him. I hear him follow me as I open the door and step into the hallway.
“Where are you going?” he asks, falling into step beside me. I quicken my pace, causing him to jog to keep up. “Class?”
“No, the mall. I need to get some things.” He tries to keep up with me, but I’m walking too fast.
He chuckles and shakes his head. “You should join the Olympics. You walk so fast.”
I don’t respond, and he sighs. “Let me give you a ride.”
I look at him. “What?”
“In my car.” He nods towards the parking lot, but I shake my head.
“No, thanks.”
I step out onto the pavement and immediately feel a raindrop hit my nose.
I look up at the sky, seeing the dark clouds gathering overhead. The air is suddenly humid and chilly.
Blaze scoffs, looking triumphant. “Looks like God’s on my side.”
I look away, trying to decide what to do, and he raises an eyebrow.
“I don’t know what April told you to make you so scared of me, but I’m really not that bad,” he says, and I sigh.
“It’s not about April.”
The rain is getting heavier, the drops thick and fast. It’s going to pour any second now. Blaze squints against the water, hands on his hips.
“So what is it then? You don’t think taking a ride to avoid getting sick is a good idea?” He’s teasing me, echoing my words from English class yesterday.
I need those sanitary napkins. They’re essential. And who knows when this rain will let up? It’s just a ride. It’s not like I’m going to make out with him or anything.
I take a deep breath. We’re both getting wet. “Okay, fine.”
“One bout of pneumonia later and she finally makes up her mind.” He grins, his dimples popping. My stomach flips and I look away as he guides me to his car.
He has a pristine, white Mercedes that looks like it costs a fortune. Good thing I’m not impressed by material things, or I’d be just like that redhead he had pinned against the wall this morning.
He fishes in his pocket for his keys, hits a button, and the doors unlock.
He opens the passenger door for me. I hesitate before sliding in. He notices and smiles, shaking his head as he shuts the door.
The smell of fresh leather and air freshener greets me. I take in the black interior as he gets in on his side.
He curses under his breath as he shuts his door. The sound of the rain is muffled now, the droplets tracing thin lines down the windows.
The car is warm and comfortable, I’ll give him that. But being in such a small space with him makes me nervous. Especially after all the warnings I’ve gotten about him.
I wrap an arm around myself. He brushes his wet hair back, pulls his white T-shirt over his head.
“So, the mall, right?” he asks, draping his wet shirt over the headrest.
I nod, still not looking at him.
“Any specific store?”
“The pharmacy...,” I mumble, praying I can get through this ride without blushing to death.
“I’ll get you there safe and sound,” he says, starting the engine. I pull on the seatbelt, click it into place, and go back to staring out the window.
April’s warnings echo in my head. Maybe I should have waited for the rain to stop and walked instead?
Once again, my common sense loses out. I decide to relax and accept the ride as he steps on the gas and we pull out of the lot.
