Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 124135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 621(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 621(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Lewis’s eyes narrowed. For a second I thought he was going to ask me who. But the guy knew to keep out of my business. “It’s hard if you don’t have it. It’s hard to explain if you do. How do you know how to explain the absence of something you’ve always lived with?”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s why I’m here. Wanted to know if you had any suggestions. You’re a music teacher, after all. You’ve surely heard of it before. No doubt studied it or some shit.”
He smirked. “Or some shit.”
Lewis got up and took a leaflet out of a rack on his wall. He put it in front of me. It was for a museum just outside of town. “You’re in luck, Mr. Dean.” I scanned the leaflet. It was advertising an exhibition on synesthesia.
“You have to be kidding me. There’s an exhibition on it?”
“Not yet. But it’s almost done.” He sat back down. “It’s a complete sensory experience, created by an artist friend of mine. It’s really quite something.”
“But it’s not open.” I blew out a frustrated breath.
“I can get you an early viewing if you’d like.” Lewis said, shrugging. “He might like more feedback from another synesthete. It could benefit everyone.”
“When?” I asked, pulse starting to race.
“Next weekend should be fine. I’ll ask him.”
I took the leaflet and put it in my pocket. I got to my feet. “You sure it’s good? That it’ll explain what I see and hear?”
“It might be different. Synesthetes often see things slightly differently from each other; there are no rules, after all. The exhibition may not show the exact colors you see for certain notes.”
“Then how do you know it’s any good?”
He smiled. “Because it’s based on me.”
My feet were cemented to the ground as what he said sank into my sleep-deprived brain. My eyes widened and drifted to the picture above his desk, the one with all the colors. “You too?”
Lewis nodded. “It was why I wanted to meet you all those years ago. I’ve met other synesthetes in my life, but none that shared such a similar type to mine.”
I stared at Lewis. I didn’t know if it was because of the shared synesthesia, but I suddenly saw him differently. Not as the professor that kept poking his nose into my business, or the infamous composer who gave it all up for drugs. But as a fellow musician. Someone who followed colors like me. I stared at the composition on his desk and wondered what color story he saw.
“Er…thanks.” I turned for the door. Just before I left, I asked, “What color is D?”
Lewis smiled. “Azure.”
I huffed a laugh. “Ruby red.”
Lewis nodded. I closed the door and made my way back to the dorm. A synesthesia exhibition. Perfect. Now I only had to find a way to get Bonnie to come with me.
She wanted to know what I saw when I heard music.
The thought of letting someone else in that close still rubbed me the wrong way, and the walls began to build once more. But then I remembered her song, and her face when she found out the truth about me. And I pushed the thoughts down. Keeping her face in my head.
And I fell asleep smelling peach and vanilla and tasting sugar sweetness on my tongue.
Chapter Fourteen
Bonnie
I didn’t know why I was looking in the mirror. I didn’t know why I cared what I looked like. I was fully aware that Saturday night was just a fluke. That Cromwell Dean would be his usual self today.
Yet here I was, checking my hair in the mirror. My hair was down and pulled to one side. I wore my jeans and a pink sweater. I had my silver hoops in my ears. I rolled my eyes at my pathetic-ness. Then my stomach fell.
You shouldn’t be doing this to either yourself or him.
I closed my eyes and counted to ten. Then I ducked out of my room. The sky was bright, the sun shining and not a cloud to be seen. Students milled about the quad. “Bonn!” Easton came up behind me and wrapped his arm around my shoulder.
“Where’ve you been?” I asked. “You weren’t in the cafeteria this morning.” I stopped and looked at my brother, using his appearance as my excuse to pause. Truth was, I was out of breath from just a few steps.
Easton shrugged. “Wasn’t in my room last night, Bonn. Let’s just save you the details about all that.”
“Thank you,” I said sarcastically, and he smiled. “I feel like I never see you lately.” I really looked at my brother. He had dark circles under his eyes. I put my hand on his bicep. “You okay?”
He winked. “Always, Bonn.” He started walking, guiding me with his arm around my shoulders. “I’ll walk you to class.”