The Only Song (Only You)

6. Sadie

Chapter 6

Sadie

“ W hat the fuck is that?” Jaxon barks from my right. His dark eyes are ablaze with a fury that seems completely unwarranted considering I’m putting in an important conductor’s note. If he wasn’t so busy pocketing that rattling pill bottle he’d probably be writing it in himself. As if rehearsal beside him in a confined space isn’t hard enough.

Now, he leans in close with a scowl on his face. God, he pisses me off.

“Sass.” He groans the old nickname he gave me in college. “What is that?”

I blink. “It’s a ritardo , Tanner. It means slow down.”

“I know what ritardo means,” he says through clenched teeth.

“Then how do you?—“

“What I was asking is what you just drew on my music?”

That’s why he’s pissed? Well, if he’s going to be an outright dick about it, I might just shove my own practice copy on top to put all my markings just to see how irritated he gets.

I bite my cheek to keep myself from snapping back hard. Infuriated as I am, I told him to act like a professional, so I should as well. I draw in a deep breath to calm myself.

“I drew the sign for ritardo ,” I breathe out, but a muscle in his jaw twitches. Seriously, what is he so mad about? At the rate of our bickering, it’s a surprise the conductor hasn’t stopped rehearsal because of us. I doubt the flute motif being drilled in the background is enough to cover up our verbal sparring.

Jaxon runs a hand through his midnight black hair. The silky strands falling in a way that makes me wonder how soft it’d be between my fingertips.

Nope. I cannot be thinking of him like that. Not now, not anymore, definitely not while on this tour. I need to stay focused. If I want a permanent position in a future orchestra, this short tour has to go well.

“Please stop graffitiing my copy.” Is his stale response. His voice is low and it makes goosebumps rise on my skin. But what an asshole .

He’s the same uptight perfectionist as when we were in college, just older, less baby-faced and more… man. God, I don’t know how I’m going to make it th rough a whole tour sitting next to his pompous, clean-copy, don’t-get-in-my-beautiful-face-and-space ass. Not that I’m looking at his ass. I’m a professional. I’m his partner. His ass is definitely not on my mind.

“For god’s sake, Tanner. It’s not graffiti, it’s markings. Would you like me to spell it out for you?”

He groans. Or growls. Whatever husky guttural sound that spurs me on. “Do you prefer it in English or Italian?”

“Sass,” he warns, digging his forehead into the scroll of his violin.

“What calligraphy font would you like me to write in, Your Majesty?”

“Please.”

“Are you begging for me now?” His shoulders stiffen and when he shifts in his seat he swallows hard. I smirk with victory but when his dark eyes turn toward me, it melts it all away.

“ Stop .”

The glare he levels on me I’m certain is meant to break the average person, but I’m not average and I’m not just any person. I am and always will be his rival—equal parts exhilarating, equal parts exhausting. I feel like I was born to be a thorn in his side just as he is in mine. He might have gotten used to people not challenging him in the last few years, but I’m about to break that pretty bubble.

If he’s going to make me suffer in this chair, I’m sure as hell going to make it hell for him too.

I don’t fear him.

I’m not in awe of him or his god-given talent.

I’m fearless in the pursuit of my passion.

And Jaxon Tanner will not be in my way.

The conductor clears his throat, his baton raised and waving it above us. He gives us both a sobering look that twists my stomach and all the heat that simmered between Jaxon and I evaporates. When I glance at him, he looks as flushed as I am.

Shit .

Pink with embarrassment, we bring our violins up to our chins and surprisingly make it through the rest of the rehearsal without ripping the strings off and choking each other with it.

But the stomach twisting feeling returns when Jaxon and I are held back by the conductor after rehearsal.

I’m immediately intimidated by Bert. He’s tall —tall enough I have to crane my neck just to look up at his weathered face. His gaze is distant like he’s still wrapped up in his music score until his beady eyes settle on me and I swallow. I feel like I’m in high school again, doing immature shit with my friends in rehearsal because we’re young and dumb.

“Sadie. Good first rehearsal. You kept up with Jaxon better than most,” Bert drawls.

My teeth grit at the comparison but I plaster a tight smile on my face. Beside me, Jaxon shifts in his chair, his shoulders going rigid .

“As his stand partner, this makes you the Associate Concertmaster and his substitute.” My breath freezes but Bert continues on, completely unfazed by the way my jaw unhinges and Jaxon grows even stiffer beside me. “I’ll have Elisa send you the solo repertoire. Please make sure to learn and practice it in your own time.” He glances to Jaxon before pinning his gaze on me. “If Jaxon is ever unavailable, those solos will fall onto you.”

How could I forget? This seat I’m in is the second lead chair. But the chance to perform a solo—should Jaxon not be able to—could catapult my career. It’s a sure showcase of my talent, a way to build my reputation. But what are the chances of Jaxon not being able to play? My guess is zero to none which means my only chance is to ask him if he’d be willing to give up one of his nights… this seems unlikely.

“The solos will require extra practice from you.” Jaxon’s voice is hoarse and I startle at the sound. The furrowed expression on his face tells me he’s not happy that I’m his sub and if this is his way to intimidate me away from them, it’s not working. He should know I don’t back away from a challenge.

“Afraid I’ll take your spotlight, Tanner?” I ask. I can’t help when my fiery competitiveness kicks in, especially where he’s concerned.

He huffs a laugh as if it amuses him but it grates on my nerves. I may have not made the first cut but I’m here now and that calls for something. I open my mouth to retort but he cuts in first, shaking his head. “Stage has always been yours, Sass.”

For the second time in the past five minutes, my breath is stolen from me. But I recover quickly to mutter, “Not when you’re involved.”

Jaxon either doesn’t hear me or lets my comment slide while he packs up his music. And before he stands to leave, the panicked words fly out my mouth.

“What will it take for me to have one of your solo nights?” I blurt. His mouth twitches but he doesn’t meet my gaze.

“Nothing,” he says. The rasp in his voice scrapes over my skin and it makes my stomach flip. When I drag my gaze down him, I notice the earlier tension still hasn’t left his broad shoulders. “You want it, you work for it.”

My teeth clench. Guess I’ll try convincing him another way. He makes it to the door when I realize maybe if I act nice, it might chip away some of the tension between us—and make him more willing to part with a solo or two.

I call out brightly, “See you tomorrow!” but the sweetness sounds too sugary.

He pauses, palm on the door and back still toward me to give a curt nod over his shoulder then leaves.

Sadie

I need your help

Sloane

with???

Sadie

getting Jaxon Tanner to like me

*Sloane calling*

“Spill,” Sloane commands the moment the call connects.

“So impatient,” I tut and she groans in response. I squint my eyes to try and make out which side street I might be driving on. I was too lazy to turn on my GPS and now with the dark streets, I’m… lost. This is what I get for taking the long way home to avoid freeways.

“Sadie, you cannot drop a bombshell on me like that out of nowhere. I need context.”

I laugh. Sloane was there the day I first met Jaxon to the day he left me on that porch. I know she must be itching for more context.

“Why do we need to get Jaxon Tanner to like you? Don’t we hate the guy?”

“I don’t hate him, Sloane. ”

“So, we like the guy?”

“Not entirely.”

“But we need him to like you?”

“Yes.”

“Is this because of that one night you?—”

“Sloane! No. It is not because of that night.” I flick my turn signal on a little too hard. Momentarily blinded by the surge of memories that rush to my mind—shallow breaths, roaming hands, soft lips—my hands grow sweaty as I shove it all back down. I finally recognize a street sign and make the turn just in time. “We’re stand partners, Sloane and I just found out that I have to learn his solos in case he can’t play one night.”

“Why wouldn’t he be able to play?”

“I—I don’t know. Maybe he gets sick or something? But imagine this. One of the nights, I get to play his solos. I could get televised. I mean, the publicity of this tour is insane, Sloane. This could start my career.”

“So, ask him.”

I groan. “I did and he blew me off.”

“Maybe, you should blow him then.”

“Sloane!”

“Or give him food poisoning.”

“These are your ideas? A blow job and food poisoning?” I ask incredulously.

“Well, if you want to be rational about it it’s just no fun.”

I can hear the smirk in her voice and it makes me want to bang my head on the steering wheel.

Sloane has always been my go-to, my ride-or-die, my shoulder to cry on. She was the one to pick me up after my parents would rip into one of my performances. The one to bail me out of a terrible Tinder date. The one who held me the day after that night six years ago.

But sometimes, she can be delusional.

“Sloane,” I groan. “I need to perform well in this orchestra so I can get out of living with my parents. I don’t have time to be messing around with Jaxon Tanner. I just want one of his solo nights. You know how much it means to me to become a professional violinist.”

“And how many times have I told you that you are one. Stop listening to your parents who tell you that you’re not, Sadie. The people who love you don’t doubt you.”

My cheeks grow hot. I’ve always loved this about Sloane. Ever since she took me under her wing, claimed me as her sorority Little Sister, she’s always had my back. And she’s never been a fan of how my parents would overly criticize my performances and I respect how she stands up for me.

“What did Jaxon tell you when you asked for a solo?”

“He said if I want it, then work for it,” I grumble.

“God, those Omega Chi brothers really are something.” She pauses and for a second, I think she’s actually trying to think of some sound advice. But then she says, “You should bang him.”

“Sloane, please. We’re going to be stuck together for three whole months. Don’t make this weird.”

“Look, I’m just saying you musicians are always so uptight. You gotta loosen up a little.”

“You know what? I’m done brainstorming. I’m just going to have to accept that Jaxon hates me and I won’t ever get the chance to play a solo.”

“I stand by banging him.”

“You’re not helping,” I huff as my mind flashes to Jaxon’s agitation over my scribble on the music earlier today. To his hard expression when I asked what it would take to get one of his solos. To his back turned on me before he left like he couldn’t even look me in the eye.

I sigh. “I’m home now, Sloane. I’ll text you later.”

“Kay, love you,” she sings.

“Love you too.”

The call ends and I’m left staring at the bright red door of my parents home. All I can think about is what I would do to not have to come back here. To them. To their critique and their disappointment.

But this isn’t about them, this is about me. I have to remember that. This is my chance at forwarding my career and I have three months on this tour to convince Jaxon for one solo night.

Stage has always been yours, Sass.

But it hasn’t. Not when he takes all the spotlight. And I doubt he’ll ever let it go.