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Mom had nothing but audacity. Love? Her twisted version of love was a descent straight into the darkest chords, full of brokenness and black keys.
I miss the days at Redwood Prep when I was completely invisible. Now, I can’t walk down the hallway without people gawking at me, waiting for the next ugly surprise from Dutch and his minions to unfold.
Dutch can pull a cold-shoulder all he wants. I mean nothing to him. And from now on, I’m going to make it clear that the feeling is mutual.
I’ve found that it’s scarier when someone is emotionless than when they’re loud and obnoxious.
you don’t need a guy who swings hot and cold. Besides, putting any kind of hope in Dutch choosing you out of all the harems of girls who fling themselves at him is just wishful thinking. You deserve a guy who’s more down to earth. Someone who only has one or two girls after him, instead of a horde.”
Mom didn’t turn into a raging drug-addicted narcissist overnight. She started by falling for the wrong guy at the wrong time.
“I think it’s easier to choose darkness than light.” I play the dark keys to prove my point. “That way, rather than being hurt, you’re the one doing the hurting.”
“You’re in my head.” He keeps one hand on the keyboard, stands and places his other arm around me, playing with me between his arms. “And what I hate even more,” Dutch whispers into my hair, “is that I can’t tell if I’m inside yours.”
“Because your music speaks to me.” He leaves one hand on the piano and the other presses a chord into my back. “Because,” he shifts his hands lower “when I hear you play, it makes me feel. It’s been a long freaking time since I’ve felt anything. It’s been forever since I’ve felt everything.” His hands skate back to the piano and he finishes the note that I’ve left hanging. “You force me to face the truth, even if the truth is more cruel than I could ever be.”
