NOAH'S POV
My fingers slammed against the keys, the final chord of Chopin's Revolutionary Etude thundering through the empty music room. The notes hung in the air like accusations. I'd been playing for nearly an hour, waiting for a door that never opened, for footsteps that never came.
Elle wasn't coming back.
I stared at the piano, my sanctuary since childhood, the one place where everything made sense. Not today. Today, the black and white keys seemed to mock me, reflecting the stark simplicity of what had just happened: she'd chosen him.
Some random stranger over me.
"Dude, you're going to break the damn piano."
I whipped around to see Tyler leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, his letterman jacket making him look even more imposing than usual.
"What do you want?" I asked, not bothering to hide my irritation.
Tyler pushed off from the door and sauntered in, dropping his backpack on one of the chairs. "Just checking if you're still alive. And making sure you didn't forget."
"Forget what?"
"Madison's party tonight." He raised an eyebrow. "You're coming, right? Everyone's expecting the great Noah Roth to grace them with his presence."
I turned back to the piano, closing the fallboard with more care than my mood warranted. "Not tonight."
"Excuse me?" Tyler's voice rose in disbelief. "Did I just hear Noah 'Never Misses a Party' say he's skipping Madison Blake's birthday bash? The party of the semester?"
"You heard right," I muttered, gathering my sheet music. "Not in the mood."
Tyler studied me for a moment, his usual cocky demeanor fading into something like genuine concern. "What's going on with you? This isn't like you at all."
"Nothing's going on," I snapped, shoving my music into my leather portfolio. "I just don't feel like partying tonight."
"This wouldn't have anything to do with Elle and the new guy, would it?"
My head jerked up. "What about them?"
Tyler's expression told me he'd hit the mark. "Nothing, man. Just saw them together in the hallway earlier. Seemed pretty chummy."
I slammed my portfolio closed. "Good for them."
"Look," Tyler said, dropping into the chair next to the piano, "I get it. You and Elle have this weird thing—"
"We don't have a 'thing,'" I interrupted. "We work together. That's it."
Tyler snorted. "Right. And I'm joining the chess club."
I glared at him, but he just shrugged, unaffected by my death stare that usually sent freshmen running.
"Whatever you say, man," he sighed, standing up. "But Madison's going to be disappointed. She's been talking about you coming all week."
Guilt pricked at me, but not enough to change my mind. "Tell her happy birthday for me."
Tyler shook his head as he backed toward the door. "Your loss, Noah. It's going to be epic."
After he left, I sat in silence for a few minutes, my hands resting uselessly on my lap. The classroom felt different somehow. Emptier. I'd spent countless hours here with Elle, working through arrangements, her voice blending perfectly with my playing. And now she was off with some stranger, making promises to learn from him instead.
I grabbed my bag and headed for the door, desperate to escape the echoes of what had just happened. As I stepped into the hallway, I caught fragments of conversation from a group of sophomore girls huddled near the water fountain.
"...did you see Elle's locker this morning?"
"So messed up. Who would do something like that?"
"And those notes she's been getting? Super creepy."
I froze mid-step, my hand tightening around the strap of my bag.
"I heard this was the third one this month," one of them continued, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "They're like, threatening her or something."
"Probably Benita," another girl replied with an eye roll. "She's been weird ever since Elle got the solo for the showcase."
I stood there, torn between storming over to demand details and pretending I hadn't heard anything. Elle's vandalized locker? Threatening notes? Why hadn't she said anything to me?
The answer came immediately: because we weren't that kind of friends. Not anymore. Maybe we never were.
I should warn her about Benita. The girl had serious issues, and if she was targeting Elle... But the image of Elle walking out with Steven replayed in my mind, and something hard and cold settled in my chest.
Let her new friend deal with it.
I continued toward the parking lot, my thoughts churning. Steven Smith. The name alone was enough to darken my mood further. What were the odds he'd end up at our school, of all places? And how the hell did he know Elle?
One thing was certain: Steven wasn't the charming new student he was pretending to be. I knew exactly what kind of person he was. The kind Elle needed to stay far away from.
"Noah! Hold up!"
I turned to see Mason jogging toward me, his basketball tucked under one arm.
"What's up?" I asked, slowing my pace.
"Did you see who's back in town?" Mason's expression was a mix of disbelief and amusement. "Steven freakin' Smith. I almost didn't recognize him in the cafeteria today."
"Yeah, me too. I had the pleasure," I replied dryly.
Mason and I had history with Steven—the kind that left scars. We'd all grown up in the same neighborhood before his family suddenly moved away after eighth grade. Everyone thought it was because his dad got a new job. Everyone except those of us who knew the truth.
"Small world, huh?" Mason bounced his basketball absently. "I heard he's coming to Madison's party tonight."
I stopped walking. "What?"
"Yeah," Mason nodded, oblivious to my sudden tension. "Looks like he's bringing Elle, too. Word is they're dating or something."
The cold feeling in my chest spread, turning into something darker. "Elle and Steven?"
"That's what I heard." Mason studied my face. "You okay, man? You look like you're about to murder someone."
I forced myself to breathe. "I'm fine. Just surprised."
"You going to the party? I can pick you up if you want."
A minute ago, I'd been dead set against going. Now, the thought of Elle there with Steven made my decision crystal clear.
I'd been planning to keep my distance, to let Elle make her own mistakes. That plan had just changed.
Because if there was one thing I knew for certain, it was this: Steven Smith was dangerous, and I wasn't about to let him hurt Elle, even if she'd chosen him over me.
"Yeah," I said without hesitation. "I'll be ready at eight."