Nothing to Everything (Roommate for Roommate Book 1), page 1
NOTHING TO
EVERYTHING
MAIA AARON
Copyright © 2022 Maia Aaron
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, and events are either products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover design and formatting: Maia Aaron
ISBN: 9798842324484
NOTE:
This book contains explicit sexual content, mentions of death, themes of parental neglect and anxiety, and strong language.
Playlist for Fitz and Wendy
♫ lover - taylor swift
♫ out of my league - fitz and the tantrums
♫ long story short - taylor swift
♫ class of 2013 - mitski
♫ gorgeous - taylor swift
♫ matilda - harry styles
♫ it’s nice to have a friend - taylor swift
♫ green eyes - coldplay
♫ this is me trying - taylor swift
PROLOGUE
WENDY
Shit shit shit shit shit.
I’m so fucking late. Again.
Willis is going to kill me.
By the time I get to the music hall, I’m already fifteen minutes late. Shit.
Running down the hall until I reach the piano room, I barrel inside. “I’m so sorry. My lecture ran late. I’m so sor—” I cut myself off when I catch sight of him.
Tall, tanned, ashy-blonde hair, and golden eyes.
Boy.
Pretty.
Pretty boy.
A throat clears. “Ms. Marin.”
My head snaps in the direction of the voice, and my eyes land on Professor Willis’s obviously upset face.
“You’re late,” she says.
“I know. I’m so sorry.”
She glares at me for a full minute before gesturing a hand towards Pretty Boy. “This is Fitz Higgins.”
I have to stifle a giggle. Fitz Higgins? What kind of name is that?
“He’ll be your new piano coach.”
Wait.
What?
“I don’t understand.” My gaze flickers between Willis and Fitz Higgins. “Why do I need a piano coach?”
Willis’s dark eyes narrow in my direction. “You know why, Wendy. You need the help, and since I’m too busy to give it to you myself, Mr. Higgins will be offering it instead.”
“But he looks my age!” I exclaim, waving a hand in his direction. How can a boy who looks my age be so much better than me that he could be my coach?
“He is your age,” Willis confirms. “However, he’s surpassed you in terms of your piano skills, therefore I’m certain you’ll have much to learn from him.”
God, take me now.
This is the most embarrassing day of my life.
I face him, and he smiles at me.
A sudden feeling swirls in my stomach, and I can’t tell if it’s good or bad. I’m leaning more towards bad.
“You two should take a seat,” Willis says. “We have much to discuss.”
Fitz Higgins slides onto the piano bench, and I reluctantly slide in next to him. Our knees touch.
And he pulls them away from me.
And scoots to the end of the bench, as far away from me as possible.
What the hell? Do I smell bad? Is that it? I subtly sniff my right armpit, but when no pungent odor reaches my nose, I rule out that possibility. If it’s not that, then what?
Willis looks around for something on her desk, but when she doesn’t seem to find it, she looks up and tells us, “I’ve forgotten my planner in the other room. Give me a moment to fetch it, and then I’ll be right back.”
She leaves, and then it’s just Fitz Higgins and I. The silence between us is overbearing, so I try to start conversation. “So… what year are you?”
No answer. Not even any indication that he’s heard me. Okay, maybe he didn’t. Let me try again.
“What year are you?” I ask again, this time a little louder.
Nothing.
What’s up with this guy? He’s not even looking at me. Maybe he’s deaf? Or mute. Yeah, that would make sense.
Willis comes back, placing her planner on the desk. She flips through the pages before lifting her head to look at Fitz.
“So, Mr. Higgins, does an hour a day, five days a week work for you?”
Fitz nods. “Yes,” he says, and my eyes widen in shock. So not deaf nor mute. That means he was ignoring me.
Oh, what an… “Asshole,” I mutter under my breath.
His neck snaps in my direction at that.
Wow, okay. So that, he heard.
CHAPTER ONE
WENDY
“I hate his fucking guts.”
My best friend, Elle, only sighs and rolls her eyes at my proclamation. “What’s new.”
I huff. Elle has always been on my side when it came to my ongoing rivalry with Fitz Higgins, so I can’t even fault her for starting to find the whole thing annoyingly repetitive. I have to get my frustrations out to someone, though, and Elle just happens to be the unlucky bastard who got stuck with the task of being my best friend.
“Come on, Elle. The guy’s a total dick! You can’t expect me not to want to rip his balls off after every encounter I have with him,” I tell her, but she only sighs again.
“Wendy, you know I’m totally with you on this whole thing, and I hate whoever you hate and all that, but…”
“But what?”
“But,” she says, leaning over to place her hands on my shoulders and looking me right in the eyes. “It’s. All. You. Talk. About. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were in love with the guy!”
I recoil from her at the absurd notion. Me? Feeling anything other than complete detest towards Fitz Higgins? The idea almost makes me gag.
“It is not all I talk about!” I reply defensively. “I only ever mention him after he’s done something to piss me off.”
Elle just laughs at that. “Which is pretty much all the time, Wends.”
Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. Okay, maybe she’s right. But how is it my fault if Fitz is an ass all the time?
“Well, it’s not like I’m making him do things to get on my nerves! The man’s a natural douche. That’s on him, not me. All I’m doing is reacting the same way any person reacts when they dislike someone,” I shrug.
Elle is shaking her head now. “If you say so, babe. But if the day comes that I don’t hear Fitz Higgins’s name anymore, it’ll be a miracle.”
“Talking about me, ladies?”
Oh, God.
Oh, God. I’d know that voice anywhere. It makes my skin crawl and my cheeks heat up. I could recognize that voice in my sleep.
I slowly turn around in the wooden chair I’m sitting on, my head lifting up to meet eyes with the one and only Fitz Higgins. Goddamnit. How is this guy everywhere? If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear he was stalking me.
“Following me now, are we, Fitzy?” I jab, using the nickname I gave him that I know gets under his skin.
Fitz looks down at me and bares his straight white teeth in a grin, tilting his head and shoving his hands in his pants pockets. God, I hate it when he smiles at me like that. Like he’s completely unaffected by everything I say. Like no matter how annoyed I show him I am, it doesn’t phase him in the slightest.
“You know you’re the center of my universe, Wendy.” He puts a hand over his chest, gasping dramatically. “I can’t exist without you. I’ll die if I’m far away from you for too long.”
Bastard. I hear Elle snicker from next to me, and if I wasn’t too busy giving Fitz a death stare, I would’ve directed it towards her. He only smiles down at me, a smug grin that I want to wipe off of his perfect face.
Okay, yes, I said perfect. As much as I hate the guy, I can’t deny that he’s attractive. He’s got that whole pretty boy thing going on, with the ashy blonde hair that he styles every day so that it’s not covering his forehead, and the movie-star nose that’s not too big and not too small, and the beauty marks that are flickered all over his face, and his hazel eyes that glint in the sunshine and all that crap. Even so, that doesn’t stop him from being a total douche. If anything, I’d even say it makes him an even bigger douche.
It doesn’t help that he’s always extremely well dressed, too. At least, if he dressed like a middle school boy who’d just discovered gym shorts, it would help overshadow the fact that he was decent-looking.
Okay, more than decent-looking.
But nooo, he just has to be wearing a navy-blue sweater with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showcasing his tanned forearms, over dark grey pants, a silver necklace hanging around his long neck with matching silver rings adorning his long fingers. He’s only wearing regular black sneakers, but somehow, even those he manages to make look more than just okay.
After I stare him down for a good amount of time, Fitz clears his throat. “Actually, I’m here because Willis wants us to meet her at the music ha
I groan. Of course she would send Fitz for me instead of just, oh I don’t know, talking to me herself. Because God forbid she ever speaks to me more than she needs to.
“How’d you know where to find me?” I ask.
“Didn’t.” He shrugs. “But you always come to practice with a coffee, so I figured it’d be a good place to check.”
My brows furrow. How does he know where I get my coffee? I mean, sure, this is the only decent place on campus to get a cup of coffee, but I didn’t realize he even noticed I brought in a cup every day. Then again, we have bumped into each other a few times here, and despite the fact that we rarely interact when it happens, I guess it would make sense for him to come to the conclusion that I spend a lot of time here.
I shake the thought away. It doesn’t matter. “Did she tell you what it’s about?”
“Nope. Just said it’s important, and that she wants us there in ten minutes.”
Well, isn’t that just great. Going to the music hall with Fitz and listening to Professor Willis probably tell me how terrible I am compared to him and how I’ll never measure up to him is definitely what I need right now.
“Fine,” I sigh, turning back around in my chair. “I’ll meet you there.”
Even though I’m not facing him anymore, I can hear him clearing his throat. “Actually, I… I thought we could walk there together.”
Pause. Did Fitz Higgins just say he wants to walk all the way to the music hall with me? As in, spend more time with me than he needs to?
Is it Doomsday?
My eyes meet Elle’s brown ones, and I’m horrified to find that she’s smirking. She cocks a dark brow at me, twirling a strand of her black hair around her finger, looking at me like she thinks this is absolutely hilarious. Yeah, of course my suffering is hilarious.
Okay, maybe I’m being a little dramatic. But I swear, if you just met Fitz, you’d understand why I feel the way I do. He’s not easy to be around. We can’t be in the same room without bickering or arguing over something, and not to mention he’s also a walking, 6’4 reminder that I’m not good enough and might never be. Professor Willis is literally paying him to be my coach because apparently he’s so much better than me and I’m so terrible, and it doesn’t help that he’s extremely fucking obnoxious, and arrogant, and cocky. How could I not hate him?
But I guess it wouldn’t make sense for us to go separately. We’d both be leaving the same place at the same time to go to the same destination, and it would just be awkward to pretend like we’re not.
Making sure to glare at Elle before I turn back to Fitz, I say, “Okay. Just give me a second.”
He nods, and I could almost swear he perks up at my agreement.
But that would be ridiculous. He hates me, of that I’m sure. Maybe he’s never audibly said the words, but he doesn’t have to. I can feel it. I can see it. There are moments, small and big ones, that prove it to me. Like when we’re playing the piano together during our ‘lessons’, and his hand accidentally brushes mine, and he pulls it away like he’s been scorned, like he can’t even stand to touch me. Or when he actively tries to get on my nerves, doing things that he knows irritate me, like fake-flirting with me and staring at me even though he knows I hate it. Not to mention the constant bickering with me.
Granted, I’m usually the one who throws the first shot, but still. He could just… not say anything back. If he left me alone, then I’d eventually leave him alone, and we could just sit in silence through our forced daily hour of practice together.
At least he gets something out of this arrangement, though. He gets paid. I don’t get anything besides five hours a week of him telling me what notes I’m getting wrong and annoying me until I start imagining slamming his head onto the keys. And even after six months of that, Professor Willis still tells me I need to do better. It’s a nightmare.
Shoving all my things in my tote bag, I move to stand up, looking down at Elle. I point a finger at her. “If I turn up dead in the middle of the woods,” I jerk a thumb back at Fitz, “you know who did it.”
She snorts, and Fitz rolls his eyes, and then I lean down to kiss Elle’s cheek, wishing her good luck on the assignment she’s working on before I turn back to Fitz. “Let’s go, then.”
We walk out of the cafe together, and I make sure to put a good amount of distance between us as we make our way across campus, to the music hall.
Campus is pretty busy today. It’s the afternoon on a weekday, so it’s not surprising that it’s crowded. This is usually rush hour, when everyone’s either just coming out of class or trying to get to their classes.
The weather is also pretty good today. Well, as good as it can be during the spring in California. It’s starting to get warmer, and when it’s warm here in the Bay area, it’s warm. Like, sweaty-pits-and-clothes-sticking-to-your-skin warm. Not today, though. Today there’s a soft breeze, and the sun is partly hidden by clouds, so it’s not totally shining down on us and making it unbearably hot. It’s nice.
Nice up until Fitz’s voice is back in my ears. “So how’s your day?” He asks, but he doesn’t even give me time to answer before he’s lifting up a hand to stop me. “Wait, let me guess. Terrible now that I’m here?”
I purse my lips in a fake smile, pinching the corners and squinting my eyes at him. “You know me so well.”
He laughs, and for some reason, it startles me. Most of the time, when I say things like that, he’ll retort with a comment of his own, like ‘Ditto’ or ‘Come up with something a little more original, would you?’ Either that or he’ll just smirk at me smugly in response until my skin heats up with irriation and I have to look away so I don’t punch it off of him.
It’s only rarely, very rarely, that he actually finds my teasing funny enough to laugh, and when it happens, it always shocks me a bit. I’m not used to hearing him laugh, and every time he does, it reminds me a little that he’s actually a human being and not the devil reincarnate.
There’s silence between us now, and it makes me feel awkward, so I feel obligated to ask, “How about yours?”
Fitz only shrugs. “Can’t complain. Just a normal day.”
I gasp, placing my hand on my heart in fake shock. “You mean your day didn’t get worse when you saw me?”
He turns his head to grin at me, and I think it makes my stomach flip. In annoyance, no doubt. “Maybe my day got better when I saw you.”
I roll my eyes. Remember when I mentioned the fake flirting? Yeah, this is what I was talking about. These small comments he makes that are meant to sound like they’re flattering when in reality they’re meant to grate on my nerves. To provoke me.
To the outsider, it’d probably seem like he was just trying to be nice to me. But I know what he’s really like. I know why he does what he does, and it’s not because he actually likes me or is interested in me. No, it’s the complete opposite. He just wants to antagonize me. Mock me. Remind me that he thinks of me as less than. He acts all sweet and perfect to everyone else, but I know that’s not true. I might be the only one who knows it, actually.
“So…” I start, the awkwardness settling around us once again, and for a reason I can’t quite figure out, I feel the need to… not be awkward with him. “What do you think Willis wants from us?”
Fitz shrugs a shoulder. “Not sure. Probably just something about our lessons.”
Yeah, probably to tell him that she thinks I’m still as shit as I was six months ago when we first started and that his ‘coaching’ has done jackshit. Or something along those lines.
“Maybe.” I turn my head to face him. “Or maybe she wants to—”
“Watch out!” A voice shouts from in front of us, cutting me off, and I notice the way Fitz’s eyes widen in panic, but I barely have time to react when I see what he’s staring at and find that some guy is literally barrelling towards me on his bike. He’s practically a second away from hitting me, but just before he can, I feel hands on my waist, tugging me sharply to the side and out of the guy’s way.
“Sorry!” He calls over his shoulder once he’s passed, but my breaths are coming out in too fast bursts from the momentary panic for me to say anything to him in response.
