The music industry is competitive and deadly with everyone striving to make a name for themselves- to achieve perfection. But a one can only endure so much before they break.
The Arnold Academy of Music is the center of success. The one academy eve...
The above video is what I imagine Kai playing in the practice room :) The whole song is absolutely amazing, but the part Samantha hears starts at 2:35.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I was running in a forest. Bony hands stretched out, scratching at my face, my lungs burning, but I couldn't stop. I had to ke-
I am in my Music Theory classroom taught by Mrs. Chalk, which is ironic since her voice sounds like actual nails on a chalkboard. Her shadow looms over me, staring me down with a poisonous glare.
The book in my hand, which I had been reading under my desk, was now in plain sight. Oops.
"Since you seem so well learned in our lesson, you chose not to pay attention. So why don't you answer the problems I placed on the board? All of them." she said as she clasped her hands together and gave me a wicked smile, her slicked bun adding to the evil headmistress vibe.
I cleared my throat and awkwardly walked up to the board, which was very awkward indeed since I had decided to sit in the very back, and everyone was watching me.
Picking up a piece of chalk, I started at the looming problems in front of me. Said problems were 15 Mode Scales, the bane of my existence, and the exact reason I had decided to ignore the lesson because it was so awful.
I was beginning to seriously regret my past decision as I had no idea what I was doing. However, all eyes were on me, including my Wicked Witch of the West professor. Real nice, Samantha.
I had answered two and was about to sweat myself into a puddle of defeat when an angel's voice from the desk behind me whispered the answer.
If I had any idea who the person was, I would have kissed them right then and there because they continued to name the rest of the scales in five seconds. I quickly scribbled them down, leaving everyone in the class speechless, including Mrs. Chalk. The latter stood mouth nearly agape when I turned around with a fat grin on my face, incredibly proud of my work, well, the mysterious person's work.
I walked back up to my desk and prayed that the angel's pillow would be cold on both sides tonight. Then, as if this day couldn't be more blessed, the bell rang five minutes later. I almost cried tears of joy.
I snatched my leather book bag and practically bolted out the door to the cafe to get a glorious chamomile tea before heading to the practice rooms for the night.
My jury was in two weeks, and my Italian aria needed severe help if I would stand in front of three prestigious musicians and sing. Even though it was only our second week at the Academy, the moment majority of the first years already had juries scheduled that were worth half our grade. They weren't joking when they said this was an intense music school. Remind me again how I got accepted?
Pushing the stressful thoughts away, I took a sip of my steaming cup of tea. I headed toward the practice rooms, getting caught up in the flow of students: ballerinas running to their night classes with duffel bags and busted pointe shoes in hand, artists hauling their supplies and current projects up to their dorms for some late painting, other musicians like myself carrying theory books and folders stuffed with music. It was chaos. A mix of laughter and voices- one big jumble of music.
I finally made it to the practice rooms, basically small sound-proof rooms. They were designated for different instruments so that students could all practice and have mental breakdowns in peace.
As I was unlocking the room I had rented for the next three hours, I could hear muffled piano music playing from the room next to mine. Even though the sound wasn't fully audible, it was beautiful. Heartbreakingly beautiful. It was as though the song was the air they breathed-their very being poured out into the music. It sounded so vulnerable I honestly wanted to cry. I hadn't even realized I'd been standing outside my practice room, keys in hand, looking like a total whack job as I stared off into space listening.
Might as well top it all off and take a quick peek to see what Debussy reincarnate looked like. I go up on my tiptoes to peer through the small square window near the top of the door- pale hands are still flying about the keys, and I can only see the person's hair, a curly dark brown, and catch a glimpse of a sharp masculine jawline- yup definitely not a girl. Suddenly, the music stops, and the mystery pianist turns around too fast for me to duck. His deep brown eyes meet my light blue ones, and I shoot down to the floor. I know him. Well, I don't really know him, but about him.
Kai Reynolds. The name is surrounded by constant gossip at the Arnold Academy. The Reynolds family is apparently wealthy and has practically funded the school with their large donations. Their son, Kai, is a golden child- a piano prodigy and accomplished in everything. The main reason he's so famous is his terrible personality- ice cold to everyone except his childhood best friend, Fin Wafe, an artist. The man's ridiculously attractive, to top it all off.
Of course, I just had to rent the practice room next to him. Splendid. I checked my phone for the time, trying not to die from embarrassment, and shot up because I had wasted eight precious minutes of practice. Heading into my room, I closed the door, gave myself a quick pep talk, and started my warm-ups.
In the time of two hours and fifty-two minutes, I had nearly been brought to tears three times, drank so much water to "clear my throat" that I almost peed my pants, voice cracked more than I ever thought possible (thank you, Pavarotti), and made myself even more mentally unstable. Still, my aria was nearly perfect for the jury. So at least something went right today.
I locked the practice room at the marvelous hour of 11:05 pm, set the keys in the rental box on the front desk, headed towards the door, and opened it. Or try to. The old wooden thing won't budge, of course.
I keep yanking at it and am about to dig my grave when a cool, pale hand wraps around mine on the door handle. Kai Reynolds is standing behind me with no concept of personal space, his body pressed against my back, causing my cheeks to flood with heat. His warm breath tickles my neck as he leans down and whispers in my ear, his lips almost touching, "I hope you won't need my help tomorrow," and I can hear the smile in his voice.
My mind clears enough to register what he just said. The realization hits me, and I immediately know he's not talking about the stupid door but about my music theory class. My angel helper. The door clicks open. He walks into the hall and starts heading toward the boy dorms leaving me standing shell-shocked at the door, but not before turning around and yelling with that stupid grin on his face, "And you should work on those voice cracks while you're at it, sunshine!" His breathy laugh echoes down the dark halls.
When he disappears around the corner, I blink and stare at the open door trying to wrap my head around what just happened. The only reasonable answer I can come up with is that I'm in one of the novels I read or dreaming because none of this could have happened in the real world. But it did. Thank you, lovely internal voice that I didn't ask. Deciding it was too late to think about this, I chose to pretend the whole thing didn't happen and headed to my dorms to get some rest. But my irritating internal voice told me that I wasn't going to be able to ignore this like all my other problems. This one I would have to face.
hey lovely lovely people!! thank you for reading! what are your thoughts on Kai? are you a tea or coffee person? i personally am a matcha person, but that's not an option so i would have to pick tea. make sure to take care of yourself and stay hydrated! :)))
p.s. i am the internal voice muahahahaha srry not srry Samantha
