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She looks at me steadily. “You don’t have to do all of this Ellise. Nobody is pushing or expecting you to be anything that you don’t want to be.” She catches her breath as she whispers. “Your dad would be so incredibly proud of you. Whatever you choose. Whether you play on a grand stage or never pick up the violin again.”

The words hit somewhere I was not braced for, as I try to fight the lump appearing in my throat again. It is as though she is releasing me from a heavy, invisible promise I made to my dad—one I never said out loud, but one I have been destroying my body to keep anyway.

I look at my hands—at my hypermobile, flexible fingers that have been the source of so many of my sleepless nights. I wonder, without answering her, what it is that I truly want.

I drift away from the counter to give myself a moment, as the emotion pricks behind my eyes. The shop has always offered me sanctuary. I wander aimlessly down the narrow aisles, letting my fingers run along the spines in the music section. My eyes land on a small thin volume with a dark red cover that I have seen so many times before, but today, it makes me think instantly of Julian.

On the Art of Timekeeping: A Musician’s Guide to Rhythm, Precision and the Space Between.

I pull out my phone, snapping a quick photograph of the cover. I giggle to myself like an fool in the quiet music section, and hesitate for a second, my thumb hovering over the screen.

I hit send anyway.

THORNE

[image] Found this in the shop. Thought of you immediately.

I don’t even have time to put my phone back in my pocket. I wait for no more than twenty seconds before the screen lights up, the vibration buzzing in my palm.

I have never been late to anything important in my life.

A small smile tugs at my lips.

I don’t think you have ever been on time to a single lecture this entire year.

They weren’t important.

I lean back against the wooden bookshelf, my breath hitching slightly as my heart does a strange, fluttering dance.

What counts as important then?

The three little dots appear instantly. They stay for a second, then disappear and continue doing this for a couple of minutes. Then the text pops up.

Practice at six. The showcase. You.

I stare at the last word for a long moment.

The simple text seems to burn straight through the glass and into my skin.

You.

He is giving me the very thing I’ve been terrified to ask for, and it scares the hell out of me.

You can’t say things like that over text, Julian.

I just did.

Julian.

Ellise.

You are infuriatingly confusing.

I think I have just made it pretty un-confusing, if I am honest.

You’re insatiable.

And you’re perfect.