The Fake Boyfriend Experiment(3)

“No!” Panic hammered at me, and my palms started to sweat. Take me out of school? The only thing keeping me going all summer had been the promise of going back to school and hanging with my friends. “I can handle school and piano, I promise.” I would go insane if she made me spend 24/7 trapped in a room with her for the next three weeks. “I swear, Miss Jespersen. I can do both. I promise.” A huge lump formed in my throat. “Please.”

“Perfect!” Crusty nodded approvingly. “That’s the kind of passion I like to see. Put it into your music and we won’t need to talk to your mom about school.”



“Okay, I’ll try. I promise.” I shuddered at the thought of her suggesting anything like that to my mom. Since Crusty had spotted me at an audition when I was eleven, my mom had fallen under her evil spell. I was my mom’s chance to be the piano diva that she’d never managed to be. She loaded the guilt on all the time about the opportunities I had that she would have killed for, and Miss Jespersen played on that big time. Even my dad’s attempts to keep them reined in weren’t always enough. I was sure Crusty would be able to talk my mom into taking me out of school. What then? Would I get held back a grade and be sent back to middle school if I missed enough school? Oh, dear God almighty. No.

“Okay, then, let’s get to work. Make the walls of this room tremble with emotion.”

“Oh, sure. No problem.” I stared at the sheet music, rested my fingers on the keys, and all I wanted to do was cry. Instead I lifted my chin and started to play. The notes were correct and precise, but I could barely read the music I was so upset. The music was stiff and uncomfortable, and Crusty bowed her head in disappointment after I’d played only three bars.

Oh, come on! I was trying! I banged harder on the keys, biting my lip as I fought for the music—

There was a loud knock on the door.

“We’re in the middle of a lesson,” Miss Jespersen called out.

“Come in!” I yelled at the same time, desperate for an interruption. I knew I couldn’t do this. Not today. Not right now. I was just too upset.

The door opened, and I sat up so quickly I almost fell off the piano bench. I grabbed the edge of my seat for balance as the hottie from the parking lot walked into my practice room.

Holy cow. My piano lesson had just become my best one ever.

Up close, he looked even better. His dark hair flopped over his left eye, his black jeans had a hole in the right knee, his long-sleeved tee shirt had a sweet cartoon of the band JamieX on the front of it. JamieX! That was my favorite band ever, and I knew every single song by heart. I had three JamieX tee shirts, but I wore them only to bed because my mom thought they were too radical for a classical pianist. But he was wearing one!

A flash of bright colors peeked out from the cuff of his right shirt sleeve, and I blinked at the show of red, blue, green and black. Tattoo? For real? It looked like it wrapped all the way around his forearm down to his wrist. How far up his arm did it go? So freaking cool.

The uptight Mueller-Fordham School of Music was not the kind of place where well-muscled guys with tattoos hung out, but here he was. Barging in on my piano lesson.



He strode unapologetically into the room, his gait easy and confident as he took over my practice room like he owned it. This rocked. As he walked across the room, I stopped playing and leaned to the left so I could see past Miss Jespersen and get a really good look at him. I mean, why not? This moment was going to be the best moment of my summer vacation, so I needed to make it count.

His jeans were just the right looseness over his butt, and there were a set of car keys hanging out of his back pocket, like he’d shoved them in there without bothering to make sure they were going to stay put. He was a guy who didn’t bother to make sure things were right, because he just assumed that he could handle whatever happened.

I wanted to be him.

Crusty gave an annoyed sniff. “We’re in the middle of a lesson.”

“I know.” He tossed a cocky smile in our direction. “Sorry to interrupt, but I need to grab a few chairs.” He didn’t sound at all sorry, and his apology was so breezy that I realized he wasn’t at all afraid of Miss Jespersen.

I sat up straighter and checked him out more closely. Who was he?

Crusty drummed her fingers on the piano top. “Just be quick, Rafe.”

Rafe? Totally hot name. I bet he’d never worn a tie in his life. I sighed and leaned on the piano as he hoisted four chairs like they weighed nothing. Cute and strong. He had to be at least sixteen because of the car keys. Plus, of course, I couldn’t forget the tattoo. This guy was at my music school? How was that possible? Why had I never seen him before? I was there all the time. My hot guy radar should definitely have picked him up before now.