COLEEN
The music room was our unofficial hideout.
It always had been.
Even when we were in high school, we would often sneak into where the band kept their instruments to hide out and be alone from the eyes of our peers. We would talk for hours and often lose track of time.
I was glad that college hadn’t ruined that tradition for us. Somehow, Mark knew when the music room would be quiet and never hesitated to let me know in case I wanted to show up.
Today was one of those days when I just wanted to talk to my best friend.
He was sitting behind the grand piano, his fingers lazily dancing across the keys in a low, uncommitted tune when I walked in.
“You’re late,” he said without looking up.
“I stopped on the way to grab some cookies.”
“I see you’re trying to bribe me,” he said.
I d
