COMPLICATED.

CHAPTER 38

THE AUDITION

The whispers and lewd comments from the girls sitting nearby intensify, turning into a bothersome hum that makes the blood boil in my veins more and more. I feel my skin sting with irritation as I try to ignore their brazen words. Not to mention the boys in the rows in front of me, muttering something, probably annoyed by the magnetic effect Nick inevitably has on every girl in the room.
​I stare at him, bewildered, almost unable to move a muscle, as he swaggeringly reaches the woman in the center of the stage and brushes that rebellious lock of hair—which punctually escapes the hold of his gel—behind one ear. After placing his pen on the piano, he gathers the signed documents and hands them to the coordinator, flashing his usual but perfect smirk.
​He told me many times, and I refused to believe it. But how could I? Who would have ever believed him?! I’ve known my best friend for ages; he’s been part of my life forever, but who thought he would do something like this? Actually, let me correct myself: something this CRAZY!
​No, it’s a joke. It’s a perfectly organized trap by my parents to control me. Or maybe he missed me so much he had to come find me. Or maybe he wanted to surprise me for my birthday, but that can’t be true—it’s madness. He couldn't have done it for real! He’s had a guaranteed spot for over two years at the most prestigious school of arts, music, and drama in the world; I don't want to believe he’s giving everything up just to be here with me in London. This academy is also world-renowned, sure, but before my choice, Nick would never have thought of leaving his beloved city, his mother, his father’s grave, or the headquarters of his company. He can’t do this; he has too much at stake. He can’t run away like I’m doing.
​Oh God, his mother will kill him, if she doesn’t kill me first! She’ll surely think I betrayed her, that I took away the only joy she had left in this life. And what about his father’s partners and employees in the Manhattan office?! Even worse—I’ll surely be labeled as the one who drove the "heir to the throne" away from his future duties as CEO of Cold Enterprises forever. All of this will equate to another gigantic scandal in his family, and all of New York won't talk about anything else for at least a year. His mother will hate me for life, the papers will never leave us alone, Nick will lead the company into the abyss, and above all, he won't be able to visit his father at the cemetery every weekend as he usually does. Without knowing it, I’m ruining everything, even from a distance.
​"Damn, Em, I get that he’s drop-dead gorgeous, but pull yourself together!" Amy whispers as she leans forward and quickly gathers the sheet music I’ve dropped.
​I open my mouth in search of words, but nothing comes out—absolute nothingness. My gaze doesn’t budge from him as he shakes hands with the man I assume is the head of the jury. Other gentlemen appear from behind the curtain, causing sighs throughout the room.
"Sorry for the delay, but the traffic on the way from the airport was heavy; I couldn't get here on time," he says, joining his hands and bowing slightly in apology.
His voice on the phone is nothing compared to the one echoing throughout the theater. Only a short time has passed, but it feels like I haven't heard it this clearly in an eternity.
​"Oh yes, you’re from New York, right? I recognize you now; you’re Mr. Cold!" the judge exclaims smilingly, pointing a finger at Nick’s face.
What’s wrong with him? He looks like he’s seeing a divine apparition! He’s not entirely wrong, after all...
​"From New York too? What’s going on this year, an American invasion?" Amy whispers, laughing. What an embarrassing scene. Strange she hasn't realized who he is yet, with all the magazines she reads!
I shrug, pretending to know nothing; she’ll find out soon enough anyway.
"Yes, it’s me."
The man laughs warmly and then gestures a brief applause toward him and the crowd, even pointing in our direction.
"I’m happy to have a standout like you among us, Mr. Cold. I haven't seen a pianist this talented in a long time. I was at one of your opening performances for the city’s orchestra years ago; it was sensational. You have a gift, let me tell you! The Juilliard School spoke very highly of you; they were very sorry when you withdrew. Please, take a seat. The auditions will begin in a few minutes."
​"THE JUILLIARD SCHOOL?!" Amy exclaims loudly in surprise.
The three rows in front of us turn around shocked, and the shrill sound seems to reach the stage, as Nick and the rest of the staff turn toward the audience looking for the unknown voice.
I quickly cover her mouth with my hand before a riot breaks out and he discovers where I am. I hide my entire face by pulling up the hem of my cardigan. When she seems to have calmed down, I let her breathe and intimate her to stay silent by putting my index finger to my mouth.
​"Amy, what’s gotten into you?! Do you want to get expelled from the audition?"
"Sorry, but I couldn't help myself—I mean, he just said Juilliard! If it wasn't for my mother moving here with her new husband, I would have applied there too. How could he turn down their offer? What is he doing here?!"
Believe me, that’s exactly what I’m asking myself.
​"I’m sorry, how stupid of me! You were almost accepted too. I shouldn't have said it, I keep making these blunders!" she whispers, covering her face with her arm. It’s true, Amy, it’s not very helpful to hear these words right now, since I’m already on the verge of a nervous breakdown for other reasons.
​"Don't worry, you already know the reasons and I don't regret it, or at least I’ll find out after the exam results," I lie as I slide further down in my chair. I absolutely must escape from Nick, who is relentlessly searching for my face.
"Sit wherever you like, Mr. Cold," the woman invites him toward our direction—my direction. The last thing I need right now is to be distracted by his eyes staring at me the whole time. The chair next to Amy is free.
Don't do this to me, no. Avoid this disaster, now or never. Think fast!
​"Amanda, quick, put this briefcase on that chair!" I stammer in a panic, nearly throwing it at her.
"What? Why should I do that?" she whispers, confused.
"Just trust me, cover it with my coat too."
He’s getting closer; there are only a few meters left before a catastrophe occurs.
"What are you saying? What’s happening?!" she exclaims under her breath.
"Just do it!" I curse, raising my voice a bit.
Amy covers the chair in a heartbeat and tosses all my things haphazardly, causing a significant racket that makes those sitting near us huff in complaint.
The woman stops in the center, checking every seat.
"I’m sorry, the seats here in front are taken. You can sit in the ones on the opposite side," she says, turning toward the other direction, and after scanning almost every row with her gaze, he finally follows her.
​Peril averted, for now. I realize I’ve started breathing again when I release a long sigh of relief.
"Alright, now you have to tell me what’s going on!" Amy insists.
"Nothing," I mutter, grumbling.
"Nothing my foot! You’ve been acting weird ever since that guy walked through that door, and you’re already a weird girl, sorry to say!"
I’ve only known her for a short time, but I already adore her bluntness; she reminds me so much of Deborah. In a way, she makes me feel closer to her. While Adam reminds me of Marcus, even though my new friend is grumpier. They are both exceptional people, but I don't feel ready yet to talk to them about my strange relationship with Nick.
​Just as I’m about to spout another lie, we hear two girls next to us muttering and discreetly pointing at me.
"I knew it, I recognized her immediately. She’s the Hamilton heiress, she’s his girlfriend," one girl whispers into the other’s ear.
Oh God, we’ve hit rock bottom. Now I’m actually his girlfriend! I mustn't react, I mustn't interfere, and I mustn't get angry. I don't want trouble right from the start. Amanda looks at them doubtfully, though I already see the wheels in her mind turning—she’s figuring it all out.
​"You’re right, they’re always photographed together, she must be his little slut. The Harpers always snag the best ones," the second one replies.
Alright, that’s enough.
"You’re the slut! Why don't you mind your own business and try studying for a change? I’d recommend it, since I heard you singing earlier and you didn't seem like much. You might as well withdraw; you’d avoid a disappointing performance!" Amy anticipates me and snaps in a fit of rage, putting them in their place.
​"Impressive," I confess, desperately holding back a laugh.
"Yeah, I can't stand people who gossip too much behind others' backs. I’ve already put up with too much of that crap, but you already know that," she murmurs with a devilish smile.
"Thanks for defending me, but there was no need; I can defend myself."
"Oh, I’m sure, you’re a firecracker! I just felt like making a scene—consider it a way to release the anxiety!" she chuckles.
​The creaking of chairs being lifted to make room for the jury at their station in front of the stage distracts us from the conversation, or at least it distracts me.
"Anyway, you have a lot to tell me. I envy you—I’d love to have a fling with a musical genius and future New York billionaire who will soon own real estate, luxury restaurants, and charities all over the world. You’re my new idol, just so you know!" Amy continues.
I huff, rolling my eyes.
"It’s not what you think, we’re just friends," I mutter.
"Yeah, right, we’ll talk later," she retorts, amused.
​"Welcome to the final June entrance exams; we are ready to begin. We will call the candidates in alphabetical order by surname," the head of the jury says loudly into the microphone.
"Hey!" Amy exclaims, squeezing my cold hands with hers. "We’re the best; we’ll get through this."
I smile at her to reassure her.
"Good luck to everyone!" the man wishes us, concluding the speech and kicking off the exam.
​The exams go by very quickly; they last about two minutes each, and most candidates are rejected mercilessly, just like the ones we saw this morning. And the reactions certainly haven't changed: rivers of tears and complaints fill this room, and above all, my panic. I’ve prepared an entire song of nearly four minutes—how on earth am I going to reduce it to two?! I think the other kids are caught off guard too, as fear can be read in their eyes. Even in Amanda’s—it’s so strange to see her this vulnerable. We are at the beginning of the letter C, and soon it’s her turn, and also his.
​I turn my gaze toward Nick; he stands out for his casual elegance and beauty among the other wealthy kids sitting in the rows on the opposite side. I notice he carefully reads his usual notes on the staves of his sheet music while waiting for his imminent turn. He looks up several times, his eyes moving left and right to recognize my face among the various others, but I’m doing everything I can to stay hidden. We’ll have enough time to talk—or rather, to argue—after this whirlwind of emotions.
"After him, it’s me," Amy says confidently, distracting me from my thoughts and pointing to the violinist candidate currently performing.
"Like you said, we’ll get through this; it’ll be fine. Though I don't know how much good it does to tell you, you seem calm now," I tease her.
"Being Aria’s roommate is doing you harm; you’re becoming just as grumpy and unpleasant as her!" she exclaims, pretending to be disappointed.
Being like Aria? That wouldn't be bad—not giving a damn about anyone’s judgment and doing whatever you want. The realization of a perfect life!
"Anyway, I’ll be calmer when I’m up there singing, in my natural habitat!" she continues, letting out a long laugh.
​The boy is surprisingly showered with compliments by the jury, and this gives me a glimmer of hope that they aren't so unfair and that they know how to recognize true talent when it’s in front of them; he’s really good. He could hold his own against Adam and Aria; I can already imagine them challenging him with violins—just the thought makes me laugh.
An instant after inviting him to leave the stage, everyone turns the page of the list, focusing on what I assume is Amanda’s surname. They go fast and straight to the point; they don't waste time!
"Now it’s Miss Cocster’s turn!" the jury president announces.
Amanda flashes me a smirk before quickly getting up and reaching the center of the stage.
I’m curious to see her full performance; these past few days during classroom rehearsals, I’ve only heard snippets of the Italian song she chose.
After asking her the usual routine questions, they signal her to begin. From the very first words pronounced in that language and tone of voice unknown to me, it’s clear that opera singing isn't just her future but her precious and untouchable refuge. Any prejudices about her physical appearance vanish the moment she perfectly hits the highest notes; she transports you into her world and makes you want to stay trapped there. I only feel this way when I record a song for my YouTube channel or when Nick plays his beloved piano. But after Aria, Adam, and Amy, I’ve had to change my mind.
It’s strange to see other people who feel so close to or even one with what they play. I always thought I could never feel such strong emotions outside of myself. How wrong I was!
It’s amazing to see my new friend so confident while singing; she looks straight ahead without fear at the judges and the spotlight. She doesn't let anyone hinder her; she immediately gives you the impression that in that moment, only she and her voice exist—the rest doesn't matter.
She finishes beautifully with a very loud but perfectly pitched high note that leaves everyone breathless, even the jury members who applaud her. She calmly walks down the small steps, but when I stand up to hug her, she catapults straight into my arms.
"You were amazing, you’re already in!" I exclaim softly, swaying her from side to side.
"I can't wait to see your performance!" she tells me, pulling my arm to try and make me sit down again.
"For now, I’m content watching his," she whispers, nodding her head behind me. Before I can even turn around, I instantly feel Nick's sweet, soft, and familiar touch as he runs his fingers through my hair, pushing it back and baring my neck. As usual, he coils a long strand of mine around his fist while slowly lowering himself until he is near my ear. I missed this habit of his and the chills these gestures provoke too much. It’s useless to pretend to forget them; they are etched in my mind.
"Did you think you could escape me, piccola?" he asks in his husky voice that goes straight to my heart.
My face moves in slow motion toward his, and my eyelids are still trembling from the reaction his nickname causes in my body.
I am helpless, as always. It’s his specialty to leave me speechless, but if someone had told me this just a few weeks ago, I would have said it was impossible. But that kiss changed everything—that damn but wonderful kiss. Those damn lips that hypnotize me and that damn desire to stroke them again.
I can't let myself be drawn in by his imaginary magnet, especially not now. I have my future waiting for me, and I won't let anyone ruin it. I mustn't crumble because of his presence; I must resist.
​"Nicholas Cold?" the same man from before calls out.
His name announced over the microphone makes me jump and return to reality, and the same happens for him.
He buttons the first few buttons of his denim shirt and hurries to the center, but not before brushing the back of my hand with his index finger as he passes me.
I’m not thinking clearly; I must stay away from him, at least until I’ve taken the exam.
"Just your best friend, you said?" Amy mutters.
"That’s right," I reaffirm immediately.
"Sure, I’ll judge after hearing the whole story," she promises with a scowl.
What should I tell her? That he kissed me and is now dating someone else?! He has a girlfriend now, and I intend to close the "boys" file for a while.
Wait, his girlfriend? What happened to Kya?! I hope she isn't here in London too. I can't be so unlucky as to deal with that situation. Why am I having these thoughts? She hasn't done anything to me. Besides stealing my best friend in less than a second? No, nothing.
I’m becoming ridiculous; I don't want to create unnecessary trouble.
"Anyway, he’s a total babe!" Amy murmurs to provoke me.
"I know, I know! Please don't you start too now!" I sigh, frustrated and embarrassed.
"Quiet, stop making a scene. He’s about to play and I’m curious!" Amy murmurs, shifting my total focus back to him.
​He settles onto the bench in front of the huge, black, glossy piano. He moves his fingers to stretch them before running them over the many keys that instantly produce a sweet melody. The notes of Nuvole Bianche by Ludovico Einaudi spread through the hall, and the silence of this theater is filled with this delicate symphony. Everything turns into a beautiful atmosphere; it always is when he plays.
Everyone is captivated by his calm in front of an instrument so difficult for anyone to play, and he even makes it look easy. His eyes look ahead or half-close to better savor the sound coming from those keys. The spotlight points at him, but he doesn't seem bothered. It also illuminates his hair, making it shine; from a distance, it looks like he has small diamonds in his head. Every time he performs, it’s spectacular. In this light, in this place, and in this moment, he embodies an angel descended to earth.
"Magnificent..." Amy whispers in wonder.
"Yeah, he is," I sigh, smiling.
A few moments later, his fingers gently lift from the piano, and he sits upright, something he does after every performance. The judges stand up, applauding without a second thought, followed by all of us, myself included. I can't do otherwise; I might be angry with him for an eternity, but he is a living talent and deserves all of this, even if I would have preferred him to experience it at Juilliard, the place where he belongs. Even if it’s far from me...
Nick moves cautiously back to his seat, and as he does, he flashes a wink in my direction. A gesture not appreciated by the other girls, who glare at me. Great, just what I needed—my likely academy classmates already hating me from the start! Not that it surprises me much; I’m used to being looked at like this or being judged, especially by those who envy the luxury and glamour that has surrounded me since birth.
I huff, taking deep breaths. I can't wait to celebrate my birthday with a good movie on the flat-screen TV, popcorn, and my favorite blanket, pretending not to be nervous about the crazy move Nick made today. When will this ordeal end?! I hope soon—my heart is about to jump out of my chest.
​I wait anxiously for all the other candidates before me to perform. Amy keeps me company; we promised each other to support one another during the wait, and her stories distract me, but only until they announce the letter H.
I’m the first in alphabetical order, and the anxiety suddenly turns back into panic; unlike everyone else, I can't stay calm when they announce my full name. Amy encourages me to reach the stage by applying pressure with her hand placed in the middle of my back. I walk quickly, taking two little hops forward because of the shove, and warm my frozen hands before climbing the stairs at the sides of the curtain, right where the red velvet drapes are.
I can do this; it’s the moment I’ve been waiting for all my life. It’s the moment to prove my talent, that I can make it, that I will work hard to reach my dreams and goals. I walk with a firm step to the center where the spotlight aims its strong light, blinding me for a few seconds. I then shift my attention to the audience.
Damn, from here the theater looks even more immense than I thought before, making you feel even more intimidated! Nothing compared to the makeshift stage at the graduation ceremony where I last performed. I’m used to singing in front of a camera or a computer, but this seems insignificant when you’re standing in front of this splendor. Everyone’s eyes fixed on me certainly don't help, but I’d better get used to it now, as soon as possible, or at least before it’s too late to face it. If they even accept me...
​"So you’re Emma Hamilton, right?" someone from the jury asks me.
I can't recognize their faces; they are only illuminated by small lamps reflecting a soft light. More than an exam, it feels like an interrogation at a police station! Don't panic, Emma.
"Right," I confirm.
"I had no doubt, you have the same features as your father..." the same voice retorts.
Of course, of course my father had to be brought up! And of course it fueled the whispers and murmurs from the audience even more! It’s absurd. No distractions.
A lady sitting in the last seat clears her throat before speaking into the microphone. "If I’m not mistaken, you were also accepted into the Juilliard School in New York; you only had one last audition left..." she announces, checking the relevant resume on the table.
I nod in response.
"I have a question for you," she says, taking off her glasses.
I tilt my head, confused.
"Why did you decide to leave America and move here? You were one step away from entering another college..." she asks me in a calm tone.
"I need a new beginning in a different city. I’ve always dreamed of visiting London, given my father’s English roots. But after several recent personal events, I felt the need to move and seek a new version of myself. Your school is one of the best, and I believe I can learn a lot and give a lot, obviously if you give me the chance," I state without a second thought. I’ve had the necessary time to figure out what I really wanted, and right now, I believe I’m in the right place. The place where I belong.
​"Very convincing," the lady whispers smilingly while seeking her colleagues' approval.
"What have you prepared for us today, young lady?" the jury president asks me impatiently.
"I’ve prepared a more recent version of 'New York State of Mind,' from Glee, a famous American TV series. Even though I’m here, it seemed right to honor my home in some way, the city where I lived until a few days ago. And, in a sense, convey what I feel for it," I say concisely, without taking a breath. I search through the shadows for Nick’s face and can't help but flash a crooked smile when I glimpse him giving me a thumbs-up and whispering something incomprehensible.
The judges look at each other, consulting. After making a decision, the president speaks again.
"A strange and bold choice to bring a song about New York to London, but I must admit I appreciate it! We are very curious to hear it then! If we like it, we’ll give you the chance to sing it in full; we’ll signal you if we want to stop you. Start whenever you feel ready," he announces, concluding the brief interview.
​I hold my breath and then release it for the last time before starting to sing and focusing on not going out of tune. I give a quick wave with my hand, giving the signal to the freshman backstage to start the song’s backing track at full volume. I ignore the lump in my throat that has formed and sing the first few lines. A sense of peace has become part of me by the time I reach the middle of the song, and the tension of an entire week dissolves in an instant. I hardly notice the presence of more than a hundred people and the jury; I only think about being my best and having fun. I imagine in my mind being inside my old bedroom, or rather in my makeshift recording studio. This single memory makes me enjoy the sound of the piano and horns in the track even more in contrast with my voice.
"Light as a feather."
That would be the most accurate and sincere expression to describe how I feel right now. Every time I sing, I allow myself to escape reality and float in a world exclusively my own, where I am free to be whatever I want. I allow myself to maintain this feeling until the last high note, the one I practiced to the point of nausea in recent days. I realize it’s truly over when the backing track fades into nothingness, and that’s precisely when I start breathing steadily again after four interminable minutes. Four minutes—they didn't stop me! That should be a positive sign!
I don't have to wonder for long because the sudden standing ovation confirms it. I didn't expect all this!
My attention immediately focuses on Amanda, who makes herself known through her screams and jumping in place. Finally, I can also glimpse Aria and Adam in the seats in the balconies, raising their arms and applauding nonstop, hidden by the shadow.
Finally, I look for the most important one, Nick. He stands up more slowly than the rest, but when he does, he fixes me with a look of understanding reserved only for us. With his misty eyes, he infects me with his happiness and pride for me. I might hate him to death for what he did today, but I don't know what I would have done without his support. I probably would have imagined his reaction, but I don't need to—he’s here. He’s here for me, even though he wasn't required to be. I’m still angry, but I’ll be grateful to him for life for always being there.
​The president coughs into the microphone to return to the final comments on the performance and invites everyone to take their seats.
"Great work, Hamilton. We will evaluate everything more calmly at the end of the exam session. Results will be posted outside the theater tomorrow late morning. Thank you so much!" he tells me enthusiastically while inviting me to leave the stage to make room for the next one.
I thank them with a sort of bow and rush down the stairs, where Amanda is waiting for me euphorically. She grabs both my arms and shakes me from side to side, making me smile.
"You were great! Someone even searched for you on the internet after the performance! But now let’s go to lunch; I can't stand being here anymore. Adam and Aria are already out and waiting for us!"
I agree, nodding, but first I turn around and glimpse Nick gathering all his things and leaving through the opposite door.
Strange, he didn't even wait for me...
Suddenly my throat feels dry, my lips chapped, and my stomach is growling like crazy. Oh, am I hungry!
"Yes, maybe it’s better; I need some fresh air!" I sigh, laughing as Amy puts an arm around my shoulders and opens the exit door with her free one.
​We cross the atrium, making our way through all the students and professors hurrying to their various classes. For some, these are the last lessons and drills before the summer session. And to think that if all goes well, I’ll just be at the beginning! It will be a grind to study, but in all honesty, I can't wait; I’ve never had trouble doing it. Actually, I like it; I’m the typical closet nerd in high school even if I don't show it, but my reputation as a wealthy and cultured girl must be maintained, so I spend weekends buried in books. Sometimes I study or read novels even late at night when I wake up from nightmares. During this week here, I must admit I’ve had fewer, but they are always confusing, and it’s not at all easy not to lose it if you know you’re sharing a room with someone. I adore Aria, but I haven't even been able to talk about it with my family, besides my father, let alone talk about it with her, whom I actually haven't known for very long! So I’m forced to hide in the bathroom to vent and cast away all the bad thoughts; it will be a challenge to keep it secret, and I don't know if I’ll succeed for much longer. Especially if they are as horrible and incessant as they’ve been in recent years.
​"There they are!" Amy exclaims, pointing toward a half-empty space where the exit leading straight to the courtyard is. Leaning against the doorframe are Aria and Adam, chatting emphatically as they usually do about any topic.
Amy calls them with a whistle and they turn immediately. Adam seems to be holding back a high-pitched scream as he grabs his backpack and runs toward me with a shocked and surprised face. Aria chases after him, cursing under her breath, as if trying to hold him back. Oh boy, I already know what he’s about to say...
"YOU’RE HANGING OUT WITH ONE OF THE RICHEST GUYS IN THE WORLD AND YOU DON'T TELL ME ANYTHING?!" he shrieks, waving his arms excessively.
Okay, he hasn't understood anything. I look at him in silence, mouth agape; he’s thrown me for a loop.
"Adam!" Aria calls him, irritated.
"It’s unbelievable!" Amy laments instead.
"Oh no, don't lecture me now, I don't give a damn! These scoops are too exciting not to know anything!" he retorts, offended.
"Where did you hear these lies? Why are you saying this?" I whisper so no one else can hear.
He shoves his phone in front of me, where a headline appears on the screen that makes my hair stand on end.
'POSSIBLE NEW FLIRTATION BETWEEN THE CHILDREN OF THE COLD AND HAMILTON FAMILIES? LOVE BLOOMING OR JUST A CLEVER PLOY TO BOOST COLD ENTERPRISES' IMAGE FROM PAST SCANDALS?'
I snatch the phone from his hands and scroll through the other headlines; they are all the same. I refresh the Google page hoping it’s not true, but the only change I see are links disappearing one after another; surely my mom’s company or Elisa and Nick’s are taking care of removing any fake news.
I feel like vomiting—this was all that was missing from the list of dramas!
"Don't believe everything they write; they haven't known what to talk about since I left. We’re just friends, nothing more," I mutter, annoyed, still trying to keep my cool in public.
"Something is definitely going on between you two, we all noticed! But don't worry, you’re my friend and I believe you. Better for me—I still have a chance! You’ll tell us everything when you’re ready; we’ll defend you from all the insinuations. Today just think about enjoying your day, birthday girl," he retorts, putting his curiosity aside.
​The strong fragrance coming from behind me alerts me to his presence; Adam’s stunned and lovestruck face confirms it. It’s useless—he hypnotizes everyone.
"I heard we’re already popular here!" Nick exclaims, tilting his head in greeting to my three friends. His arms wrap around me from behind and pull me closer to his chest, and after making sure I’m trapped in his grip, he plants a quick kiss on my cheek.
"Happy birthday, again," he whispers near the corner of my mouth.
"Nice to meet you, I’m Nick..." He lets go of me to shake everyone’s hand, except Aria’s, whom he gives a quick hug. Moving toward Adam, he notices the open page on the news. "But I think you already know who I am," he continues, laughing.
"I certainly do! I’m Adam. I have so many things to ask you; I’ve been in love with you for years!" Adam states boldly, pushing back Aria and Amy and shaking his hand firmly. I can't believe he’s making heart-eyes at him, right now!
"Oh my god, Adam. Enough, he’s straight. Let him breathe!" Aria scolds him, pulling him away from Nick.
​I need to talk to him alone; this situation is already too embarrassing and stressful as it is.
"Guys, would you leave us alone for a moment, please? We’ll catch up with you in a few minutes..."
"Yeah, I think you have a lot to talk about. We’re going to the cafe to get something to eat; whenever you’re ready, we’ll be there," Amy announces, dragging Adam, along with Aria, out of the room.
Nick watches them go before turning to me.
"Adam is very exuberant. I like him!" he exclaims.
Is he really pretending nothing happened?
"This was your plan all along, wasn't it?" I interrupt him immediately. He runs a hand through his hair as he looks at me, not understanding what I was talking about.
"Coming here to London and applying to this school? Seriously, Nick?! What game are you playing?" I say calmly, though inside I’m bursting with too many surprises.
"I didn't have a choice, Emma," he whispers, looking around. A small group of people pauses near the window to eavesdrop.
Tell me he’s joking! He didn't have a choice? He has plenty of choices! I quickly grab him by the arm and drag him into a narrow hallway to talk in private.
"Juilliard in September, your mother, the company, your father. Do those seem like enough reasons to go back home?"
He leans his head against the wall with a defeated air. "I can't, Emma, I don't want to," he murmurs.
"Your mother will hate me!" I exclaim impatiently.
"My mother has known since graduation day, and so have your parents. And she doesn't hate you; she knows this is what I want. The academy called me a few hours before they called you; that’s what I wanted to tell you when we went on the picnic. I didn't want to surprise you—I wanted to tell you!" he speaks frantically.
I answer him immediately, as my anger reaches its peak.
"Don't you dare try to make me feel guilty right now! You don't have the right. Do you realize what you’re giving up?! And don't tell me I did the same because you know the reasons perfectly well. What are yours?" I yell nervously between one tear and another.
"You!" he yells back, grabbing my waist.
"You won't be the one to ruin your future, forget it. Take the first flight back and don't give up everything you worked for!"
"And you won't be the one to decide for me. I’m tired of you repeating that to me every single day. I know what I want; I have no regrets," he interrupts me.
​Silence falls, but I sigh when I realize I’m now pressed against his body, pushing him further against the wall. His hand slowly strokes my face and lifts my chin so I can look at him as he says the most beautiful words anyone could ever say to me.
"I am where I need to be."
I missed being this close to him, but as much as I might like it, I can't. I’m too confused and I have too many questions that need answers.
I move his hands away from me and back away until I hit the opposite wall.
"You have a lot to explain to me, Nick. I don't understand anything..." I whisper.
"I’ll explain everything tonight; I’m taking you out to dinner. I got a special permit to stay out of the school until late," he says happily.
I stammer a few words, but nothing sensible comes out, so I decide to lighten the conversation a bit.
"Is this some kind of date?" I ask in a joking but also somewhat frustrated tone.
"Oh no, not at all," he retorts, chuckling, almost as a tease.
I hope the disappointment in my eyes isn't obvious. Wait, why disappointment? I have no reason to be disappointed. With an agile step, Nick comes right in front of my face and tilts his head to get as close as possible to my ear.
"It’s a birthday date," he whispers in a sensual voice, sending chills through my whole body.
What the hell does that sentence mean?! He moves just enough to laugh at my furrowed brow.
"You’ll understand later. Be ready by six; I’ll come pick you up," he continues to whisper in the same tone, walking backward. From here, I can better notice his strong jawline, the shadow of the beard starting to grow, the adorable dimples, his red-tinted cheeks puffing as he smiles, and finally his high cheekbones highlighting the few freckles scattered on his nose.
My knees threaten to buckle at any moment; I need to think about something else.
​After confusing me even more, he turns around again and runs across the atrium to reach the others waiting for us at the cafe table in the courtyard, looking blissful and satisfied. I follow him, still perplexed by everything that just happened. The others look at me the same way, curious to know the details. I wave my hand, signaling that I’ll tell them later.
"So Adam, what do you want to know about me?" he exclaims, clearing his throat.
And so begins the string of embarrassing questions Adam was impatiently waiting to ask him.