Chapter Nineteen
Gabby
My phone vibrates in my hand as Lauren and I leave our Monday morning theory class, joking with our friends Damian and Zeke. Watching Lauren interact with Damian makes me think she’s gotten over her crush on him after their one date. Which is too bad, since he seems taken with her. But he’s shy, and Lauren, well, Lauren’s not. It’s probably for the best. She’d chew him up and spit him out in a week.
The insistent buzzing of my phone draws my attention from my friends and Lauren regaling us with the story of how she spent yesterday with the guy she met at the party on Saturday night. Jonathan and I had dropped her off at the dorm that night, but apparently she never went home Sunday night and had lots of fun with Jake’s friend Dylan. I wasn’t in the dorm either, since Jonathan had convinced me to stay the night again.
Looking at the screen, I see Jonathan’s name and the picture I took of him a couple of weeks ago. It goes to voicemail before I can pick it up. When I unlock my phone, I notice three missed calls, all from him.
Weird.
We usually talk after his ten o’clock class and figure out where to meet for lunch. Sometimes he’ll text me throughout the morning, but not call. Everything was fine when he dropped me off this morning.
A shot of worry has my gut churning, and I wave to my friends before stepping around the corner to call Jonathan back. Before I can, my phone is ringing again.
“Gabby? Thank God. I’ve been trying to get ahold of you.” His voice is all relief when I answer.
“Yeah, I saw the missed calls. I just got out of class and was about to call you back. What’s wrong?”
“They haven’t found you yet?”
“Who? What are you talking about?”
“There aren’t photographers outside your class or the music building or anything?”
My eyebrows crinkle together. “I don’t think so. Why would there be? Is there someone famous here?”
He snorts out a laugh, but he doesn’t sound amused. “Uh, yeah. Sort of. You.”
Shocked laughter comes out of me, but when he doesn’t say anything else, I quiet down. “No. I’m not famous. That’s not funny.”
“Yeah. I know. I’m not joking. You should probably plan on missing classes today, though. I’ll come get you. Or—shit. Maybe I’ll have Ben come get you. That’d be easier.”
“Wait. Hold on. What are you talking about? Why do I need to skip classes? And why should Ben come get me? Doesn’t he have classes too?”
He sighs, and I imagine that he’s rubbing his hands over his face and through his hair. “Someone took a video on Saturday night and uploaded it to YouTube. It’s gone viral. And there are paparazzi camped out in front of my house. When Ben left for his nine o’clock class twenty minutes ago, there were only a couple of them in cars across the street. That’s when I first tried to call you. But now there are at least ten, and they’re all standing on the sidewalk.”
Moving to the windows on the end of the second floor that overlook the parking lot, I try to see anything unusual. “Okay. It doesn’t look like anyone’s here. Why would they be here, though? If the video’s of you. I know you mentioned me, but how would they find out who I am and my class schedule already? And why would they even care?”
Another deep sigh comes out of him. “Because they’re ruthless scum suckers who will try for any angle on a story. But also because the video shows me kissing you after I finished playing. Between mentioning your help and the kiss, you’re very interesting. There are already articles speculating about who you are, how we met, how serious our relationship is. It’s only a matter of time before they find you and start stalking you.
“I’ve already put in a call to the Dean of Students’ office to figure out how to handle this. And once I’m off the phone with you, I’m going to call my mom. She and my dad coordinated our security when we were on tour, and she still knows people.”
I swallow, the cars coming into the parking lot taking on a new significance. Are any of them photographers? Will they just wait to mob me when I try to leave? There aren’t any groups of people milling around, or even anyone I don’t recognize standing there like they’re waiting for someone. A few students walk toward the center of campus, but I know them.
“What about my classes?”
He grunts. “Like I said. You should plan on skipping today at least. Maybe tomorrow too.”
“But my lesson is in an hour. And rehearsal tomorrow. I can’t—“
“I’m sorry, Gabby. This is why—“ He stops himself, and I hear him swallow. “I’m sorry. If you stay in the music building for now, you’ll probably be fine. You usually practice before your lesson, right?”
“Right.”
“Okay. I’ll figure something out by the end of your lesson. Call me as soon as you’re done.”
“Okay.”
“Have a good lesson. Gabby, I—“ He hesitates, and I hold my breath, waiting for what he’s going to say next. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
We say goodbye and hang up, but I feel like he was going to say something else and stopped himself. I suspect I know what it was, and I’m not sure what I think about the fact that he almost said he loves me, or about the fact that he didn’t actually say it.
But I need to practice right now. I have a lesson in an hour. And that needs to take precedence over things that may or may not be happening.