Friday night, Sydney paced through the small living room. Nerves tightened every muscle in her body. She’d thought getting through her last marching band practice with Hunter would be hard. For the most part, he acted as though he’d never laid eyes on her, which was exactly what she’d asked for, but it stung. She didn’t think he’d be so good at it.
But then as they were dismissed, he broke out in song. He’d played the same song as when she’d arrived at his house yesterday. She’d stopped in her tracks, and although she didn’t turn to look at him, she listened. She closed her eyes and felt the music, the way he’d described. The song was painful but beautiful.
She’d always seen Hunter as the party guy, quick with a joke, a laugh, a smile. Yet when she heard him play like that, it was nothin
