The Only Song (Only You)

3. Sadie

Chapter 3

Sadie

I ’m fucked. I’m so fucked. All my hopes for getting hired go flying out the window the moment Jaxon steps into the room. He walks in with the air of a king and it’s clear the other judges revere him. They sit up straighter. Their murmurs fade. Their eyes watch and wait for his cue. He commands the room like a true Concertmaster. Meanwhile, I bite my cheek to not roll my eyes as he takes his seat opposite me.

“Sadie Love,” he says my name like it’s the first time he’s reading it. Not like he spent four years in college reading my name coming second after his.

My teeth grind. “Yes.”

“What will you be playing?” He doesn’t look up even as I stare at him. If he feels the heat of my gaze after all these years, he shows no sign of it and it only spurs my fury. I shouldn’t have shown up here. But I won’t give him the satisfaction of walking out before I even auditioned.

I’d be damned to show Jaxon my insecurity. That I think I’m not worthy of a spot in the orchestra. But I owe it to myself to try. Even if it’s been six years since I last ever—well—tried. Sure, rejection is that bitter taste in your mouth you can’t wash away. But Jaxon? Jaxon’s the shadow I’ve lived under for all I can remember and being here today reminds me of how our rivalry began—him in the spotlight and me, the closest anyone ever got to taking it.

“I’ll be playing The Lark Ascending, ” I call out, voice steady even as my hand trembles.

Jaxon places his phone on the desk, then flits his gaze to meet mine. If a storm were above us, lightning just cracked.

He nods. “You may begin.”

I hold his gaze as I lift my violin to my chin. But as soon as my bow touches the strings, I let it all fall away. The room. The judges. Him .

It’s been a while since I’ve performed for myself. Usually, I’d be cheering on my students from behind backstage curtains for their performances. But I grew up a performer, so I shouldn’t be surprised at how familiar this feels. The nerves that crackle through my body. The electricity in my fingertips ready to play. The breath in my lungs steadying my racing heartbeat. This . This feeling when my bow vibrates the strings, when the melody floats off to curl in the air—this is when I feel most alive.

But the feeling is short-lived. My audition is over in minutes and over the polite applause I feel his gaze, heavy and intoxicating. He stares at me like we’re the only two people in the room and I know if I look, one of us will burn. So I don’t. I don’t risk it being me before these other people. I bow quickly and run out of the room like my life depends on it. It just might.

Outside, a few paces from the recital hall door, I find my violin case and pack up quickly. I’m oddly still breathless, so I take a moment to press my palms flat on the wall to even my breaths. The audition is over. So why don’t I feel relieved?

“What are you doing here?” Jaxon’s biting tone startles me and I glance up to see him staring—no, glaring—at me like me auditioning offends him in some way.

I scowl back instantly, cocking my hip to the side as I face him with crossed arms and a flat expression. “Good to see you too, Tanner.”

“Jaxon,” he corrects quickly, tone still on edge but eyes a little softer. “You can call me Jaxon.”

I wince. It’s painful how with music I struggle to memorize it—but his face? His name? There’s no need for a reintroduction. We know exactly who we are to each other. I swallow thickly and shake my head. “I’d rather not. ”

He stares back, a hint of disappointment quickly covered by the purse of his lips. This conversation can only go one of two ways: bad or worse. Since it already feels bad, I find it best I leave before it gets worse. Turning towards the doors, I make it two steps, then he’s calling after me.

“Sadie, wait!”

I pause, biting my cheek and keeping my back to him but his tall frame rounds before me to stand before my path to the exit and forces my gaze back up to his.

“What do you want?” My voice sounds exasperated, impatient. Almost as impatient as he was to stop me from reaching the doors. Clearly, he’s rubbing off on me already.

Dark eyes fall to mine and his voice rasps nervously, “Why did you come audition?”

Why does it matter? I want to ask. But answering questions with questions sure won’t close the loop of this conversation.

“Because of my students,” I reply flatly. I push past him once more to head toward the door. This conversation feels like it’s going south and I don’t want to be there for the fall.

His brow furrows. “Aren’t you touring with your other orchestra?”

I stop in my tracks, my shoulders going rigid. I don’t know whether to be surprised at his gall or his ignorance. He doesn’t sound arrogant in questioning, yet somehow it offends me, anyway.

“I’m not in any orchestras, Tanner.” I scowl at him, the bitterness in my tone evident. “Unlike you, I didn’t get hired into any after college.”

He stares at me with shock, his gaze so piercing I can feel the ends of my hairs rise in apprehension. He drags up and down my skin almost in a way that undresses me. But there’s nothing sexy going on between us. Not in the slightest. And his next words are proof.

“You stopped auditioning,” he says with disbelief, and my stomach sinks at how quickly he figured me out.

“I could only take so many rejections.”

He crosses his arms, displeased with my response. “So, why audition today?”

I mimic his pose. “Because it inspires my students. They asked me to and I didn’t want to disappoint. Are you done interrogating me?”

His arms drop, face clearing as if sensing he’s coming on too hard with how I bit back.

“I’m sorry, I’m just surprised,” he murmurs.

I shake my head. In college, Jaxon was the benchmark I strived to cross every day. He kept me on edge and while we were never really “friends”, our rivalry formed a different type of bond between us. A bond he very much severed that night six years ago.

Seeing him now, we’re no less rivals in music than we were before. Each other’s top competition with the same goal in mind to be the lead chair in an orchestra. The Concertmaster. He achieved it within a week of graduation. I only got rejections. To make things worse, my parents have never let me forget it. It’s another reason I’d love to be on this tour, because living with my parents is pure hell. I can do without the reminder that next to him, I’m a failure for never reaching my goal. Do I hate the guy? No. I might just hold a grudge for a specific night six years ago. Do I hate how he’s near impossible to beat? A little, but it sure lights up a fire in me. And I let that fire fuel me now.

“Surprisingly disappointing, isn’t it?” There’s an edge to my tone, as sharp as the steel in my eye. “I know being a violin teacher isn’t as grand as being Concertmaster, Tanner. But my students mean a lot to me. I’ll do whatever they want if it gets them to keep coming back for lessons. This tour is for a good reason. Kids aren’t inspired to play classical music like we were. If they hadn’t asked, I probably would’ve tried anyway for the charity. Don’t think I came back for you . I’m here for my students.”

Without a second thought, I spin on my heel and hope to make it to the door. I don’t.

“You played well today,” he blurts from behind me. His voice echoes in the atrium. Or maybe just in my mind, because was that meant to be a compliment?

I turn back around for what I hope is the last time and pin him with a stare. “Well? Is that the best adjective you can come up with?”

“I— ”

“Oh, please. Flatter me more, Tanner. How well was my performance to you?”

His jaw twitches, the muscles feathering as I take two steps back towards him.

“Is that what you wrote on my page? Well? W-E-L-L. Well.”

He swipes a hand down his face, clearly annoyed by my jest, but I don’t know if I’m furious or curious at this point.

“Let me help you. What’s another four-letter word that could be used as an adjective? Oh! Good. Was my performance good , Tanner?”

“It was great,” he says through clenched teeth.

“Nope. Doesn’t count. Has to be four letters.”

I’ve bridged the gap now and am standing right below his chin. Jaxon stares down at me and where others cowered in all his power and glory in college, I stepped up to the plate. What unnerved me earlier was if he’d be cocky and rub it in my face that he’s so far ahead of me in life in six years. I remember now that I’ve always been able to handle his heat. I’d forgotten in that first moment that I saw him, when I knew he would be judging me. But I got through the audition. And here, now, I can handle everything he throws at me.

The question is if he can handle me?

My fury. My pain. My heartbreak from all those years.

I gave up auditioning for orchestras, but seeing him again—it fires me up. My passion and determination. My persistence in being better.

Better than him .

I roll a tongue over my lip and watch as his gaze drops down to it, then flits away over my shoulder, like I’m so easy to discard—same as the night he left me.

I huff, then pull my case straps over my shoulders before saying slowly, emphasizing every word. “It’s been good to see you too, Tanner.” I let the ache in me seep into my tone and when I see guilt flash over his eyes, I know I hit my mark.

I turn on my heel and make for the doors. This time, he doesn’t call to stop me. Six years ago, I watched his back. Six years later, he watches mine.