Cole

"I can't believe you talked me into this," I grumble, tugging against the unfamiliar tightness in my collar. I hate wearing ties, and these dress shoes are making my feet sore. "I'm not interested in this artsy crap like you are." Not to mention I'm missing out on a party my frat is throwing tonight.

Trisha just rolls her eyes at me. "You weren't my first choice either," she scoffs. "Matt didn't want the tickets to go to waste, he's the one who suggested I ask you."

We finally pull into a vacant parking spot and re-bundle ourselves up in preparation to face mother nature's ruthless winter. I step out and the ice cold air immediately prickles parts of my face uncovered by my wool scarf and hat.

"But why me?" I groan.

"Is it such a problem that he wants his future brother in law to have some culture in his life?" She gives me a small shove, playful but with a hint of sincerity. "Come on, can't you take a break from that auto-tuned trash for one evening? Classical is beautiful."

I mutter some obscenities under my breath, muffled by the soft crunching of our footsteps in the thick white snow.

-----

We enter the theatre just as most of the guests have settled into their seats. The average age of the other attendees seems to be decades older than we are. Just a vast sea of greying hair and collagen-lacking faces. Ok Cole, too mean. We look for our seats, walking down the aisle lined with a deep crimson rug, passing rows of brown oak seats topped with plush velvet cushioning.

"Down here," Trisha whispers to me and tugs my arm as the small chandeliers along the walls dim. We awkwardly shuffle through the narrow row, maneuvering past the legs of fellow guests unfortunate enough to be seated near us. We're quite close to the stage, probably only four or five rows away.

I take a look at the gold-trimmed program some stuffy guy in a vest and bowtie gave me in the lobby. The back of the thin cardboard has the schedule of performers in a plain black font - mostly local symphony orchestras. I flip it, and printed on the front is the main performance in a very large and fancy silver font. The one the majority of the audience is here for.

Chopin - Piano Concerto No. 1, Op 11,

as performed by Melody Aria

What an ironic name.

Surprisingly enough, the name does ring a bell. A musical prodigy as a child – at least from what I know. I remember seeing her appear on practically every talk show when I was a kid. A small blonde girl, always dressed up in fancy dresses, playing complicated songs with arms barely long enough to reach both ends of the keyboard. She's quite famous in the music community and has become popular in mainstream media in recent years too.

Most, if not all, music teachers I had would gush about this girl. It also gave mom and dad an excuse to tease me about my lack of musical talent. Trisha has been obsessed with her music for years. Our bedrooms were next to each other's and I was forced to constantly listen to that classical music before she moved out. Despite not even knowing each other, Melody has been a huge pain in my ass.

The chatter dies down as the tall, bright red curtains part, revealing a large string orchestra ready to play. Orchestral Suite No. 3 in D-major, according to the program. They're all dressed in black, contrasting against their deep amber violins, violas, and cellos that gleam under the stage lights.

It's nice...I guess, although by the time the third orchestra finishes their songs, I begin struggling to stay awake. My brain conjures up the image of fluffy sheep jumping over the stage. One sheep, two sheep, three...sheep. My eyelids feel heavy like lead, and my mind drifts.

Trisha elbows me as the current orchestra finishes, jolting me awake. "Jeez Cole." She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "These tickets were expensive."

"Sorry," I yawn and stretch my arms a bit, "I stayed up late last night." I had a girl come over to...study together. The curtains draw shut, and I hear the noises of chairs and music stands being dragged across the stage, setting up for the next performance. A quick glance at the pamphlet tells me that it's the last performance before the intermission, Melody's.

The curtains reopen, revealing a single glossy black grand piano. A girl, I assume Melody, walks onto the stage. Her white heels click softly against the wooden floor boards, echoing through the silent concert hall. She takes a seat on the bench, followed by a swift flip of her blonde hair over her shoulders, and a tuck of her black dress underneath her behind. The stage lights dim, and a single spotlight points towards her and the piano. I sigh and settle into my seat, ready to be lulled to sleep again.

She begins playing. It's nice, yet... different, somehow. Something about it catches my attention in a way the other performances didn't. It feels as if I can hear her emotions in the music, even without words.

Whatever the hell that means.

Every note feels smooth and light, yet strong and deliberate, blending together into an enchanting and captivating euphony that gives me an unfamiliar warm and full feeling deep in my chest. Glancing down at my arm, I notice goosebumps have prickled my skin.

I find myself sitting up straighter, suddenly feeling wide awake. She's mesmerizing, and I realize I can't take my eyes off of her. I notice every delicate movement she makes. She gently rocks back and forth along with the tempo of the music, looking so graceful and entranced. My surroundings fade into darkness until it's just me and her, and the beautiful notes echoing through the concert hall.

I'm intrigued. I want to meet her.

-----

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," I tell Trisha as the lights come back on for the intermission. She nods and takes out her phone to text Matt, probably to whine about me.

I wander through the crowded lobby, hearing bits and pieces of people's conversations as I skim through. Some of them act eminently vain, with their noses held so high in the air that they would probably drown if it rained. They speak ridiculously pretentiously, as if they all carry thesauruses around with them.

How opulent it was!

She's illustrious.

Just enthralling.

Absolutely rapturous.

I've never felt so out of place.

I continue walking until I find a long narrow hall vaguely obscured by some potted plants. I take a peek around the corner, and the door at the end of the hall has a note taped to it.

Backstage. Authorized personnel only.

Bingo. Under the dim off-white lighting, I can see some ushers in the hall talking. I casually lean against the wall around the corner, waiting for them to leave. I take out my phone to kill some time and search up a name.

Melody Aria.

A textbook prodigy it seems. Daughter of two famous Broadway performers. Played in Carnegie Hall twice, once when she was seven, then again when she was twelve. Went to Julliard when she was fifteen. Has been performing ever since she graduated to sold-out theatres all over the world. She's only nineteen, just like me, and Jesus Christ I've never felt so unaccomplished.

Strangely, I can't help but notice there aren't many pictures or videos of her past the age of twelve, besides wide shots of her performing where you can barely see her face. Despite obviously having attended countless events, she hasn't been photographed at any of them in years.

All articles have the same theme as well; she's an arcane enigma. Incredibly private about herself, she hasn't done any interviews since she was eleven. Most people don't even know what her voice sounds like now. According to some sources, she stormed out in the middle of her very last interview. On top of all of that, she doesn't have any social media accounts - though most people suspect she uses a pseudonym.

No one seems to know why she's like this.

I'm more intrigued than ever.

Before I can do any further investigating, I finally notice the ushers walk by me. I take a quick peek over my shoulder before scurrying down the dimly lit hall. The hinges squeak as I push the door open, revealing a long flight of creaky wooden stairs, barely illuminated by a tiny low hanging lightbulb. I grab the iron handrail firmly and carefully make my way downstairs.

I find myself in a large, uncomfortably warm and stuffy chaotic room full of musicians and their instruments. It appears to be some sort of giant dressing room. There are vanity mirrors lining the walls, complete with round light bulbs around each mirror. The white brick walls are covered with neon advertisement posters, and chairs and tables are scattered around without rhyme or reason.

My ears feel like they're bleeding as I listen to the loud incessant chattering, varying pitches and volumes of different instruments, and screeching of music stands and chairs being dragged along the wooden floors. Some of them are eating, probably sneaking in a quick dinner before their turn to perform comes up. I notice a couple even resting their heads on tables, fast asleep.

I scan the faces in the room but don't see who I'm looking for. I lightly tap the shoulder of a nearby woman sitting with a shiny gold tuba more than half her size. "Um excuse me," I ask, raising my voice to be heard over the chaos. "Do you know where I can find Melody?"

She chuckles a bit. "You're not going to find her here hon, she has her own green room." She nods towards a hall at the other side of the room. I give her a quick thanks before traversing across the room. Most of the musicians give me slight frowns as I struggle to climb in between their tightly packed chairs and instruments, nearly falling flat on my face several times - not that there's even space for me to fall flat. I knock over a music stand, which causes a domino reaction, knocking over an entire row of stands. Sheet music scatters like confetti from a confetti cannon. I feel heat rush to my face as everyone glares at me.

I finally manage to fumble my way to the hall. There are a couple of doors, but one of them has a burly man in a black suit standing in front of it. Using my impeccable reasoning skills, I assume that's probably Melody's room.

I approach him and immediately notice his size. I'm quite tall, I played basketball throughout high school and I still go to the gym three times a week, but this guy is even bigger than me. His wide stature blocks most of the doorway. His light brown hair is slicked back, further emphasizing a sharp square jaw.

I try to not look intimidated before I speak. "Hello, I'm here to see Melody, is she here?"

He turns towards me and raises an eyebrow. His eyes are a piercing dark brown, nearly black. "And you are?"

"Cole Flynn, I'm a... friend." I try to sound confident.

He just scoffs. "I'm sorry Mr. Flynn, but Ms. Aria doesn't want to be disturbed right now."

I frown a bit. "I just wanted to say hi, I'll be quick," I insist. I don't understand what it is about her that's making me feel and act like this, I don't even know her.

Not yet at least.

He takes a small step towards me and crosses his arms. I mentally slap myself for instinctively taking a step back. I did exactly what he wanted me to do, make myself look weak and intimidated. "Mr. Flynn, I'm going to have to ask you to leave this area." His voice is sharp and unimpressed.

Before I can say anything, I hear a soft click from the doorknob, and the door slowly opens. Just barely though, probably not more than a couple inches.

"Mr. Carter? Is something wrong?" I hear a soft, high pitched voice ask.

I can't see the opening from where I'm standing, so I strain my neck to try and take a look behind her bodyguard. I see Melody peeking through the door. Her light brown eyes widen and a small gasp escapes when we make eye contact, and she immediately slams the door.

I'm even more intrigued.

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Hi there! Thank you for reading the first chapter, I hope you enjoyed! :)