The Sound of Us

Chapter Thirteen. “Desire” by U2

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Desire” by U2

DANTE

“Hey, dude.” Nick slid into the seat beside me at the back of Professor Davidson’s microeconomics class on Tuesday afternoon. Nick and I had several classes together, and now that there was a possibility we’d be training interns together, he seemed to think we were best friends—saving me seats, waiting for me in the hallway, and even giving me the apple from his lunch.

I introduced him to Molly, who was sitting on my other side. We were in the same project group, and she’d been angling for a hookup since the first time we met.

“Did you get the written assignment done?” Nick pulled out his laptop. “I totally forgot about it until last night. I’m good with numbers but I can’t put a sentence together to save my life. I got a crap mark on the last one and if I don’t do well this time, I’m screwed.”

“If you need help, I’ve got people who can write it for you.” I handed him a business card for my side hustle—an essay-writing service that brought in more money than all my band gigs and scholarships put together. “It’s all online. Totally anonymous. Every essay is unique and run through plagiarism checkers and AI detectors before it’s released. I only hire people who get As, and my rates are the best on campus. You won’t get this kind of quality anywhere else.”

Nick took the card and frowned. “Seriously? You write essays for people? Is this even allowed?”

“I don’t write them. I run a website that puts together people willing to write essays with people who need essays written. I manage the business and take a percentage of the fee.”

Nick used my QR code to pull up the website and whistled. “It’s not cheap. I’m desperate, but I still need to eat.”

I saw an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. “If you take on all my promotional hours at the station—handing out flyers, waving banners, selling hot dogs—I’ll give you unlimited access to essays for the rest of the term.”

Nick’s eyes lit up and he patted me on the shoulder. “Now, that’s what friends are for. You’ve got a deal.”

We weren’t friends. I didn’t have friends. I didn’t have time for friends. My focus was on doing everything I could to get into law school, and if that meant running a side gig that was slightly in the gray to help pay my tuition, then that’s what I would do.

“I used it and got an A.” Molly patted my thigh, letting me know she was still open to hooking up. I gently moved her hand away. Two weeks ago, I would have taken her up on the offer, but I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Skye.

It made no sense. Aside from the fact that I had to stay away from her—thanks for that, Noah—she’d made her feelings clear. I’m not interested in you that way. You’re not my type. Very different from the sweet words she’d mumbled when I carried her to bed after the frat party. “You get me. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

Any girl at Havencrest would be falling over herself to be with me—hell, there was one right beside me—but not Skye. Nope. She wanted to “keep it professional.” What did that mean? Friends? Colleagues? Teacher/student— Fuck me. How could I “keep it professional” when I’d wanted her ever since that mind-blowing kiss?

“Feet down, Mr. Romano.”

With a sigh, I dropped my feet from the chair in front of me. Most professors took one look at my clothes and ink and assumed that because I wasn’t taking notes, I was just there to waste time. But nothing was farther from the truth. I was an auditory learner. I absorbed and processed material better when I could focus on listening. It was why I had such a strong internal sense for music, and why music was such an important part of my life.

“Don’t forget we’re meeting the interns this afternoon at the radio station,” Nick whispered loudly. He’d insisted on attending the first few meetings so he could be up to speed in case he had to step in and give me a hand.

“Do you work at the radio station?” Molly’s eyes widened. “My friend Rose and I have always wanted to check it out. She said I have the perfect radio voice.”

Maybe that’s what I needed. A distraction. With Molly and Rose at the station, I wouldn’t be thinking about how right Skye had felt in my arms the night I had carried her to bed, or how her dark hair had fanned out over the pillow when I laid her down, or the way her long lashes brushed her cheeks when she smiled. I’d be able to “keep it professional,” just like she said.

“I’ll be there just before four,” I said, “if you and your friend want a quick tour.”

“I hope that means you’re planning to share,” Nick murmured, keeping his voice low. “Talk me up. Tell them about my show and stuff. That’s what best friends do for each other.”

I didn’t know that much about Nick except that he did a few jazz and blues shows at the station, he was an economics major, we were in a few classes together, and he couldn’t write for shit. I’d never made the effort to socialize with him or anyone else at the station. What the hell was I supposed to say?

“Is there a problem back there?” Professor Davidson stared straight at me, even though the only trouble I’d ever caused in class was putting up my feet.

“No, sir.”

“Then keep it quiet.”

I looked over and Nick and shrugged an apology, grateful that I didn’t have to do the things that best friends apparently did.

I regretted my decision to bring Molly and Rose to the radio station the moment I walked in the door. What the fuck had I been thinking? “Keeping it professional” meant keeping it real, and the reality was that there was only one woman I wanted to see.

After giving them a quick tour, I brought them to the lounge and showed them some of the memorabilia Noah had collected over the years—framed pictures of now-famous musicians who had gotten their start at the station, vintage concert posters, and an ashtray rumored to have been used by Johnny Cash. Nick arrived with his guitar, and I had no choice but to make the introduction a “best friend” would make.

“I’ve got some interns coming in for training, but Nick can take you to see one of the studios,” I told them. “He does a couple of jazz and blues shows here at the station.” I struggled to think of things to say about Nick to hype him up. “He’s an economics major and…” I gestured to his guitar for lack of anything more to add. “He plays guitar.”

“I’m in a band.” Nick gave me a quick nod of appreciation. “It’s nothing like Dante’s Inferno, but we do originals as well as covers. We haven’t had any gigs yet because our bass player graduated last year, and we haven’t found a replacement…” He gave me a hopeful look.

I felt a twinge of guilt that I didn’t even know Nick was in a band, and even worse that despite the fact I’d never spent the time getting to know him, he wanted me to join them.

I was saved from making excuses when Chad and Skye walked into the room. Skye’s gaze slid to Molly and Rose and her face went from smiling to expressionless in a heartbeat. I silently cursed myself for being such an idiot.

Nick offered to show Molly and Rose the studio while I ran through the schedule with Chad and Skye and talked them through the internship requirements. If Chad hadn’t asked questions, I wouldn’t have looked in his direction. My eyes kept drifting to Skye, noticing details I had no business noticing: the blush on her cheeks, the wisps of hair that had escaped her ponytail, the glisten of her soft lips. The way her Weezer band T-shirt clung to the curves of her breasts did things to me that it shouldn’t, especially because it was fucking Weezer. WTF?

“Did you see the game last night?” Chad asked, pulling my thoughts away from the danger zone. “I thought for sure the Grizzlies had it, but the Bulls managed to find the energy to battle back in the fourth quarter to turn a blowout into a tie.”

“I haven’t been following them.” Skye’s pained tone made the skin on the back of my neck prickle. Of course she wasn’t following them after she’d lost her basketball dream. But Chad didn’t pick up on her lack of enthusiasm. He just kept talking.

“What about you?” he asked me.

“I don’t follow sports.” I’d never been a big sports fan. Never enjoyed watching the Super Bowl or any other game that meant my dad would spend the afternoon getting drunk and the evening beating on my mom.

“I follow all the sports,” he said. “My goal is to be a news anchor, but I plan to start out as a sportscaster to get my foot in the door. I’m going to be the next Dan Rather. I look great on camera. Any chance of getting my face on the screen during the internship?” He turned from side to side, with a self-mocking smile. “I don’t have a bad side.”

“This is a radio station,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, but c’mon. What about TikTok, Insta, or YouTube? I could be the face of WJPK.”

Skye shifted in her seat, and I shot her a sideways glance. Her hand was covering the lower part of her face, but I could see the corners of her eyes crinkle with laughter.

“We do have a public-facing opportunity coming up…” I pretended to give the idea some serious thought. “You’d get your picture in the campus paper. You might even make the local news if you play your cards right.”

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Chad said, his face brightening. “Where do I sign up?”

“Go find Nick and tell him you want to help out next Friday. He’ll sort you out.”

“What did you send him to do?” Skye asked after Chad had gone.

“The station runs promotional events every week to raise our profile and entice volunteers. They’re running a hot dog stand in the quad next Friday. Nick’s in charge.”

“I’ll go and talk to Nick, too,” Skye said, grabbing her backpack. “I’m happy to help. What about you?”

“I don’t do hot dogs, buttercup.” The name suited her. She made me think of sunshine and flowers. Beautiful and bright.

“I’m not a buttercup.”

“If the apron fits…”

Her laughter warmed me like a familiar song, and after she’d gone, I picked up Nick’s guitar and tried to capture the sound and the feeling of having messed up yet another thing in my life.

I ran through a few options in my mind and decided on Sam Smith’s “Forgive Myself,” a song about self-forgiveness and the struggle to come to terms with one’s own mistakes and flaws. I played the opening chords and started to sing, losing myself in the music until I heard someone sigh.

“That was beautiful.” Skye was standing in the doorway, eyes soft and distant.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people,” I said lightly, dissembling. Although I was used to performing in public, I felt naked in that moment, stripped of the walls I’d built to keep feelings in and people out.

“No sneaking was involved.” Her lips curved in a gentle smile. “I came back for my water bottle, and I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“OMG. Dante! Was that you?” Molly pushed past Skye and walked into the lounge with Rose behind her. “I could hear you down the hallway.”

“Molly and I are doing a group project together,” I explained as Molly joined me on the couch. “She and Rose wanted to see the station.”

“Dante’s not a group project kind of guy.” Molly patted my knee in a gesture that was more possessive than friendly. “He thought it would be more efficient if he just did it himself. But we’re bringing him around.”

“So, you’re a control freak.” Skye grabbed her water bottle and moved to the door. “Is that why you don’t do hot dog stands? Too much socializing with people; not enough hands on the wieners?”

Laughter burst from my chest, so unexpected it startled me. There hadn’t been much laughter in my life until I’d met Skye. “Did you really go there?”

“Yes.” Her gaze dropped to Molly’s hand on my leg and her smile faded. “You seem to bring out my bad side.”

“I didn’t know you had a bad side.”

Skye turned in the doorway. “Neither did I.”