Page 45 of The Breakaway

Rob ducked behind the curtains. “There. I’m not even here.”

“Rob—” The curtain rustled. I waited for him to appear, but he stayed hidden. “I don’t have my music.”

“There’s some on the stand.” His voice was muffled, and I couldn’t help but grin.

“I’m tired. This won’t be my best.”

“Excuses are for losers.”

I laughed and dropped into a crouch, opening up the clasps on my case. My hands were already clammy.Play for Rob?The idea was both thrilling and terrifying. I'd never played for anyone outside of rehearsals and concerts, not even Logan.

But there was that feeling again. The flip in my stomach at the idea of Rob’s attention on me. Of him noticing. Wanting to know more.

I shrugged off my coat and pulled out my violin, lifting it to my chin and checking the tune. Not too bad. I adjusted the G string and tried them all again, then rubbed rosin over my bow.

I wasn’t doing anything wrong. Nothing that had happened tonight was anything I’d be ashamed to tell Logan. On paper. It was the flipping of my heart that I had to keep to myself.

I positioned the bow, momentarily forgetting to breathe, then closed my eyes and started to play.

I chose one of my old recital pieces, and just like in the practice room, the notes poured out of me, filling the empty auditorium with a hauntingly beautiful melody. Within seconds, I’d forgotten that Rob was in the curtains, and the music flowed through me like a river, each note clear and resonant.

I finished at the end of the second A section without the repeats and stood there, letting the silence wash over me. After a few seconds, I lowered the violin. Only then did I see Rob in front of me, his expression unreadable.

I forced a smile. “There. Merry Christmas.” I dropped to the floor, nestling the violin back in its case.

“What’s this thing?” Rob pointed to a black piece of plastic in my case.

I glanced up. “Oh, that? It’s a mute.”

He crouched down, picking it up like it was some alien artifact. “And... what does it do? Is it, like, a silencer for a violin?”

I laughed. “Kind of. You put it on the bridge—here, like this.” I took it from him, slid it onto the bridge, and plucked one of the strings to demonstrate. The note came out quieter, more subdued. “See? It softens the sound and changes the tone. It’s more delicate, less intense.”

Rob nodded. “It looks like a weird plastic comb.”

I snorted, tucking the mute back into the case. “Well, this one kind of it is. I got it at a random music shop a couple years ago when I realized I’d left my old one at home. It does the job, but it’s nothing special.”

Rob stood and stepped back.

I continued, “Lily—my friend in orchestra—has this amazing handmade one. It’s carved out of this dark walnut, with tiny engraved details on the sides. It’s polished so smooth it almost looks like glass. And the sound it creates? It’s so warm and rich, it’s like . . . I don’t know, playing through honey.”

Rob tilted his head. “Sounds messy.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s hard to describe, okay? But it’s gorgeous.”

“Do you think Lily would play for me?”

My jaw dropped, and he dodged my arm as I tried to smack him. I clutched my case and walked toward the curtains.

“Hey.” Rob’s voice sent a shiver through me. “Can you look at me?”

A swoop low in my gut made my head spin. I slowed and turned back.

Rob hadn’t moved. His lips parted, and then he spoke in a rush. “I was kidding. That was incredible.”

A blush crept up to my cheeks. "Thanks.”

He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “I’m serious. That was . . .” He trailed off. “Transcendent.”

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