More Than Music (Chasing The Dream, #1)(6)

“You were playing one of our songs.”



“Was I?” I asked with a forced laugh, trying to edge toward the door to make a quick escape. “I mean, uh, yeah. I was. Obviously. But it’s not a big deal. It’s not like I listen to your songs a lot or anything. I just have that kind of ear where I hear something once and can play it back and uh…” Stop talking, I shouted at myself. STOP.



The thing about music was true. I could usually play anything just from listening to it a few times, but I’d also listened to Villain Complex’s album about three thousand times and practiced the songs in my room with my guitar hooked up to my headphones. I wasn’t obsessed or anything. I just liked their music a lot. But he didn’t need to know any of that. This was humiliating enough as it was.

“Really?” he asked. “I wish I could do that.”



Not the reaction I’d been expecting. I thought he’d yell at me to get out of his house or think I was another of his swooning groupies. Okay, maybe he wouldn’t think that. I didn’t look the part with my boring glasses and plain brown hair and flannel shirt. No, he probably assumed creepy stalker fangirl. I had to get away, out of this room, as far from Jared and his guitar and this nightmare as possible.

He started to say something else, but I blurted out, “I have to go.”

I escaped through the door and back to the party, slipping into the anonymity of the crowd. Once away from Jared, I could finally breathe again, but the urge to flee was still strong. I found Alexis and gave her Kyle’s key and told her to say goodbye to him for me. Now all I had to do was find my friends and get the hell out of his house.

Julie was flirting with a guy with a fauxhawk, but I grabbed her arm. “We need to leave. Now.”

“What?” Julie looked back at the guy and pouted. “Right now?”



“Yes. Trust me on this.” As I spoke, Jared appeared at the edge of the room, his head swinging around like he was looking for me. “Oh, god.”



She craned her neck to follow my gaze. “What’s going on, Maddie?”

“I’ll explain when we’re in the car. Now can we please go?”



She nodded, and we made our way out the front door, where we found Carla arguing with Daryl. I knew he’d track her down. Unbelievable.

“I told you, I was just about to leave!” she said to him.



“We’re going now.” I didn’t wait to see if they followed me. I started down the hill toward where my Honda was parked, anxious to get away from the house, away from Jared, and away from the most embarrassing moment of my life.



I could never go to a Villain Complex show ever again, that was for sure.





CHAPTER THREE





Despite a restless night of sleep, I somehow managed to forget about the disaster with Jared and focus on my music history final for two hours. With that done, my junior year at UCLA was over, and I was ready for an entire summer interning with the LA Philharmonic. I’d beat out hundreds of other people to get it, and even though I’d probably spend my entire summer doing boring stuff like filing and pouring coffee, I couldn’t wait.

Last night was in the past, nothing but an embarrassing memory. I’d put it behind me, and with any luck, Jared had gotten so drunk after I’d left he’d forgotten the moment had ever happened. I was over it. Really.

Except when I walked out of class, Jared was there, leaning against the wall in a black leather jacket. He stood up straight when he saw me and I skidded to a halt, breath catching in my throat. Someone crashed into me from behind, and I stumbled forward and dropped my bag. Because I couldn’t have just one embarrassing moment in front of Jared, no, not me.

“Hey, Maddie.” He picked up my bag while I moved out of the way of the students streaming into the hallway.



“Um, hey.” What was he doing outside my class? He’d graduated from UCLA a year ago, so there was no reason for him to be here. I conjured up all kinds of horrible scenarios: He wanted to yell at me for touching his guitar. Or I’d broken the drums and now he wanted me to pay for them. Or he just wanted to see what kind of freak played his song from memory.



Calm down, I told myself. Maybe he wasn’t here for me. Maybe he was waiting for Kyle. Yes, that made a lot more sense. Except…Kyle wasn’t in my music history class.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, taking my bag from him.



“Looking for you.” He rubbed the stubble along his chin, like he was thinking. “Kyle told me you play piano, but I had no idea you played guitar, too.”



No one did, other than Carla and Julie. To everyone else, I was geeky Maddie who played piano—and sometimes violin or clarinet—but that was it. Only my roommates knew I practiced guitar for hours in my room, losing myself in the sound of the strings buzzing from my amp until my fingertips were sore and my hands cramped.

“And you can sing, too,” he continued.



All the mortification from the previous night came back and set my cheeks aflame. I couldn’t believe he’d heard me singing one of his songs.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, clutching my bag to my chest. “I shouldn’t have touched your guitar. I don’t know what I was thinking—”