Toxic (Ruin, #2)(15)

She was perfect.
Her timing.
The way the notes flowed together.
But I felt nothing.
The moment had finally come, the moment when music no longer made me feel. I wanted to hate her for barging in on me, for correcting me, for being so annoying and pretty at the same time.
For being one of those girls who actually fascinated me.
She’d tasted good. Kissing her had been a giant-assed mistake, because for some reason, I knew her lips were going to haunt me, the way her mouth felt against mine.
The last time I felt something while kissing someone was four years ago and that hadn’t ended well.
Her spunk reminded me of Kiersten.
Great, that’s just what I needed… to lust after my best friends fiancée.
I stayed in the hallway for an hour. I listened as she changed from piece to piece, each one of them perfectly flawless but void of emotion.
For some reason, it made me sad.
Music wasn’t really music unless your soul was exposed, unless your heart was either bursting or breaking.
And hers… was doing neither.
Then again, who was I to judge? I would have used the piano for kindling if she hadn’t barged in on me.
With a sigh, I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes. What if. Damn, I hated those two words.
“Are you lost?” A female voice asked.
I opened my eyes, a girl the size of a middle schooler was looking at me like I was the ghost of Christmas past. Her eyes went wide as she looked at my neck and then lower. Yeah, I really didn’t fit the part of Musical Performance major.
“No,” I said curtly, closing my eyes again.
“You look familiar.”
My eyes opened, and then realization seemed to dawn in that smart little head of hers.
“Gotta run.” I pushed away from the wall.
“Wait, has anyone ever told you, that you look a lot like—”
“Adam Levine?” I interrupted. “All the freaking time. See ya.”
Close call, close call. I ran out of the building, pausing only to look at my reflection in the window.
Damn it.
My hair was beginning to lighten again. How had I not noticed that? I was starting to get careless — lazy.
And my entire existence depended on keeping my secret from the world.
I made a mental note to stop off at the drug store and grab some more hair dye.
The guy with the sandy brown hair and smiling eyes was gone — and I’d replaced him with an imposter — a picture of what I felt like on the inside.
Dark.
An empty void.



Chapter Ten
Ashton freaking Hyde, how I loathe you! My roommate had found out about my obsession and littered my walls with his sexy face. I guess there were worse things to stare at. Damn his blue eyes. —Saylor
Saylor
By the time Tuesday rolled around, I was dragging my feet. All the late night practices were getting to me and I still couldn’t get Sexy Stranger out of my mind. Yes, I’d officially resorted to calling him Sexy Stranger.
Ugh.
I walked back toward the dorms. I’d promised my study partner I’d stop by and go over our plans for our freshman project. I’d only met her once, but she seemed really nice. Added bonus, she seemed like the type of girl who didn’t make the other person do all the work.
I kept my head down as people walked by me. Being a social butterfly was never high on my priority list. Plus, I never really knew what to do when people looked at me. Was I supposed to smile? Wave? I always felt awkward and uncomfortable and then there was that whole long hallway scenario. Seriously. What are you supposed to do when you and one other person are on opposite ends of the hall walking by one another? Five minutes into walking and it’s like, okay, let’s just acknowledge that each of us are attempting to pay attention to everything but each other and then, boom, at the last minute, “Oh hey I didn’t see you there, what’s up?” Lame.
I reached for the door to the building and stumbled backward into something hard. “Whoa there,” an amused voice said from behind me bracing my shoulders. “You okay?”
I nodded and turned to face whoever saved me from a concussion. Of course, as luck would have it, Football God, also known as the great Wes Michels, was my savior.
Naturally, because life was just that cruel. And I clearly hadn’t had enough embarrassing moments in the past three days to last me a lifetime.
Unable to find my voice, I lifted my hands to my temples, faking the whole dizzy thing, buying me enough time to say in a voice that sounded like a three year old, “Thank you.”
“No problem.” He shrugged then opened the door for me. I walked past him, straight toward the elevator.
He followed.
I pressed up.
He stepped in with me.
I moved to the farthest corner of the tiny box and waited for the floor to ding. The minute the doors open, I nearly collided with another person getting in, but was able to sidestep the harried genderless student who was hidden behind an armload of textbooks and make my way down to Room 226.
Balancing my bag in one arm, I lifted my hand to knock when that same voice said from behind me.
“You a friend of Gabe’s?”
“Who?” I whipped around. “Is that who lives here?” With shaking hands I gripped the piece of paper with Lisa’s contact information. “I was actually looking for Lisa. We’re in the same business seminar class and we’re doing a project together, but I can be super forgetful, so I’ll just text her and see if I wrote down the wrong number and—”
“Whoa.” Weston held up his hands. “Totally wasn’t meaning to scare you shitless… Lisa lives here, and she probably won’t hear you knock on account that on Taco Tuesday she turns up Mexican music so loud the rest of the building complains.”