Composed (The Art of Love Book 7), page 9
That didn’t make the next few days any easier, though. With only an hour or so of fretful sleep, Jude got up bright and early, showered, dressed, and slapped on a metric ton of make-up, then got to work making a few silly, frothy videos that he scheduled to post across his socials for the next few days.
When that was done, he checked Nally’s socials. Quentin had sent a reply to his middle of the night messages, saying he couldn’t accept no for an answer, not when fate had brought them together.
Jude didn’t reply.
If all that guilt and fear wasn’t bad enough, Nally didn’t contact him at all throughout the day. Not a single call or text, nothing. That hadn’t happened in months.
Finally, after an entire day spent wandering from one part of his parents’ house to the other and going out to ride his scooter around London with no particular destination in mind, after a supper that he only picked at, as he lay restlessly in bed, Jude finally sent a text.
Is everything alright? You’ve been quiet today.
Blessedly, three dots appeared almost right away, followed by a message.
Today was mad. Dad’s been trying to work out the fall class schedule for the arts center. Looks like I’ll only be able to teach one composition class, if that. Plus, I had to go grocery shopping.
Jude let out a breath of relief, but it was short lived.
I kind of just felt like turtling up today, you know? Hiding in my own shell? Everything is a lot lately.
I don’t even know who I am anymore.
That last message sent Jude into a panic. He tapped to start a video call by reflex alone.
Nally answered almost right away. He was lying in bed and looked completely wrung out. “Hey.”
“Shit, you do look like you’ve had a day,” Jude said, relaxing back into his pillows.
“So do you,” Nally said with a frown. “I thought you said nothing was wrong.”
“Nothing is wrong,” Jude said on instinct. “I’ve just been dealing with mum and dad today.”
That was a big, fat lie, but the truth was too scary to talk about. Life was too scary to talk about.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call you earlier,” Nally went on in a subdued voice that Jude had never heard from him before. “I should have. We need to—” He sighed instead of finishing the sentence. “Everything has just been so crazy lately. I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about things, but fuck if I know what to do about them.”
Jude smiled. That was more like the way things were supposed to be. “Yeah, I know. Neither of us signed up for any of this.”
Nally snorted. “No, we did not.” He paused and just looked at his phone for a second before saying, “I have that recording session tomorrow at the LSO St. Luke’s, if you want to come along.”
“Of course I want to come along,” Jude said, already feeling better. Nally wanted him around after all.
“It’s at ten am. I can meet you there, or you can pick me up right where you dropped me off at Victoria Station around nine tomorrow.”
“I’ll be there. You don’t even have to ask,” Jude said.
“Of course I have to ask,” Nally said, his face flushing slightly. Jude could tell, even though Nally was just an image on his phone and it was dark in Nally’s room. “I can’t just assume you’ll be there for me all the time. You’re not my beck and call-girl.”
Jude laughed at the Pretty Woman reference. “I’ll be your anything, baby,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.
Instead of laughing at the joke, Nally looked momentarily terrified. He schooled his expression in a hurry, though, and rushed to say, “Well, I’ve got to sleep now. I need to be fresh as a daisy for the LSO tomorrow.”
“Alright. Sleep tight. Don’t let the bedbugs bite. Unless you like that sort of thing.”
Nally laughed softly before ending the call. At least the whole thing had ended on a light note. But it also made Jude think he was in for another sleepless night.
He would have jacked off to help himself fall asleep, but he knew doing anything remotely sexual would take his mind to places he absolutely didn’t want it to go. Instead, he rolled out of bed, took a hot bath, drank a glass of wine, then scrolled through his own socials until his eyelids began to droop. He fell asleep thinking there had to be a way to keep Nally safe without revealing too much of the truth. About Quentin or about his own feelings.
By morning, Jude still had no idea what that way might be. He dragged himself through a cold shower to wake up and tame his errant thoughts, then headed down to breakfast. His intention was to grab something to go, then to wander around London until it was time to pick Nally up, but as it turned out, eating breakfast with his parents was exactly what he needed to get him out of his weird headspace.
“And I said to Bunny Carlton that she couldn’t possibly host a garden party at this time of year,” his mum had droned on as Jude ate his eggs and his dad scrolled through The Times, which he read on a large tablet these days with the font size up as high as it would go. “And even if she did want to host a party, everyone who she would want to invite is away either in Lake Como or the Maldives. Frankly, I don’t know why we aren’t abroad ourselves right now.”
“You said you wanted to stay in London for the Proms,” Jude’s dad said, eyes still glued on his tablet. “You can’t attend the Proms from the Maldives.”
“Just like I told Bunny that you can’t host a party when half of your friends are away,” his mum answered.
Jude could have cried in relief that at least something was still normal.
He was nearly in a good mood again by the time he hopped on his scooter and zipped around London traffic to get to Victoria Station. With perfect timing, Nally was there waiting for him, looking gorgeous in jeans and a light jacket.
“Fancy seeing you here,” he called out, removing his helmet long enough to smile at Nally.
Nally smiled in return, relaxed and calm for a change. He walked straight up to the scooter and took the spare helmet off the back like he owned it. “Perfect timing,” he said. “We should make it to Old Street with extra time to spare.”
Jude could have burst into song. Nally was acting normal. The strain between them from the night before was gone. Sure, Jude had avoided checking Nally’s socials since the other night like his life depended on it, but that all seemed a million miles away as Nally donned his helmet then climbed onto the scooter behind him.
“Ready?” Jude asked after putting his own helmet back on.
“Yep,” Nally answered, sliding his arms around Jude’s waist.
Jude sucked in a breath at the feeling of Nally’s body wrapped around his and zoomed off from the station. The sun was shining, the thrum of the scooter’s engine sent happy vibrations through him, and even with the helmet, he swore he could smell Nally’s deodorant. It was perfect and wonderful. Everything was as it should be. He could just be in love without the cares and pressures of the world pressing—
Jude nearly ran through a red light as the realization crashed into him harder than any of the cars around them could have. He was in love. That’s why he’d felt so miserable and anxious for the last few days. It wasn’t just silly puppy love, and neither was it lust born out of a long dry spell. Completely out of the blue and at the most innocuous and ordinary time possible, he realized he was head over heels in love with his best friend.
NINE
He was getting better at this, at all of it. As Nally zipped through the streets of London with his arms around Jude’s body, holding on for dear life, he congratulated himself for getting so much better at pretending everything was normal and that his entire life, not to mention his heart, wasn’t balanced on a razor’s edge.
“Mr. Hawthorne, the orchestra is nearly ready for you,” the cheerful assistant, who seemed to be in charge of coordinating everyone in the magnificent old church, said only a short time after Nally and Jude arrived at LSO St. Luke’s.
Nally sent Jude a wide-eyed look, like being called “Mr. Hawthorne” was half joke, half honor, and completely unexpected.
“You’ll be even more famous than me before you know it,” Jude said, leaning in close to Nally and resting a hand on the small of his back as they followed the assistant into the heart of the massive recording space.
Jude’s subtle touch was like someone pressing fire against Nally’s back. Every bit of his focus shifted to his friend and the tension swirling around them. Everything Nally had said to Gavin the other night rang loudly in his ears. He wanted Jude and that touch proved it, but he couldn’t risk history repeating itself and tearing him and Jude apart.
Paradoxically, having so much of his brain taken up with the bittersweet agony of catching feelings for his bestie meant that the uncertainty and fear Nally had been feeling about his skyrocketing career took a backseat as he was led up to the center of the massive recording hall, where the musicians of the London Symphony Orchestra were chatting with each other or getting in a bit of last-minute practice before the recording session began. He caught a few bars of his own music coming from the violinists who were working through some of the trickier bits and from one of the trumpets that blasted out one of the key leitmotifs for the piece they were about to record.
“Wow,” Jude said as he stopped by Nally’s side, finally letting his hand drop. “I’ve been saying all along that you’ve finally reached the pinnacle of the music world, but I was wrong until now. This is incredible.”
Nally shifted to face him. “I am finally starting to feel as if I can handle musical fame and accomplishment,” he said in a mock serious voice. “Do not pull that rug out from under my feet by pointing out how high I’ve climbed in such a short time.”
His lips twitched as he tried not to grin. Jude’s eyes shot straight to his mouth, which did nothing to help the fluttering feeling in his gut. Nor did it help when Jude glanced up again and met his eyes with pride and mischief shining in his own.
“Alright, then,” he said. “You’re amateurish at best, and this is all punching well above your pay grade.”
Nally snorted with laughter, especially because of the way Jude assumed his social media persona to deliver the insult. It was so close to the way things should have been between them, so close to normal. If he shut his heart down and ignored half the things that had happened between them lately, he could almost believe that they were back on ordinary footing and that they didn’t have a Sword of Damocles hanging over them, waiting to destroy their friendship forever.
“Ah, Mr. Hawthorne, it’s an absolute pleasure to meet you at last,” the LSO’s music director, Sir Antonio Pappano, said, coming forward to greet Nally.
Again, Nally sent Jude a wide-eyed look. Sir Antonio Pappano was musical royalty, and he was pleased to meet Nally?
“The pleasure is all mine, sir,” Nally said, shaking the man’s hand, eyes wide. He glanced back to Jude yet again.
“We’re ready to begin when you are,” Sir Antonio said. He, too, looked at Jude. “Your partner is more than welcome to listen in, as long as he stays quiet.”
“Oh, he’s not—”
“Thank you, sir,” Jude cut Nally off, his eyes bright as he moved to shake Sir Antonio’s hand as well. “I’ll be as quiet as a church mouse, which is convenient, seeing as this is a church. Is it alright if I record a bit for social media?”
Nally’s throat squeezed, not because of Jude’s bold request, but because for the first time in their long history of people mistaking them for a couple, Jude hadn’t let him correct them.
Everything was changing, and Nally wasn’t certain he could keep up with it.
“There are copyright issues, of course,” Sir Antonio said with a frown. “No recording any moments where the orchestra is playing.”
“Of course, of course.” Jude nodded. He was well and truly in his persona as Jude the Obscure, which fit perfectly with their situation and surroundings. It also put the perfect barrier between all the things Nally suspected they were both feeling.
Something wasn’t right. Nally kept thinking that as Sir Antonio introduced him to the orchestra and the recording technicians came forward to explain what they would be doing during that session. A fantastic grand piano had been set up at the front of the orchestra for Nally to play the solo bit of his composition, and as he took a seat to warm up, along with the rest of the musicians, techs swirled all around him, checking mics and adjusting sound levels.
The whole thing required Nally’s intense focus, but he still glanced up to check on Jude from time to time. Jude had his phone up and either was recording or had recorded things that he was now posting. At one point, Nally caught his face pinching into what he could only describe as fear. A second later, Jude glanced over at him, and when their eyes met, Jude’s fear dissolved into one hundred percent pure affection.
That scared the life out of Nally. They were already on a speeding track to a place that could destroy them, and there was nothing they could do about it now.
“Whenever you’re ready, Mr. Hawthorne,” the lead recording tech called out from the massive table of monitors and equipment at one end of the room. “Sir Antonio,” he added, nodding to the august man.
“Mr. Hawthorne?” Sir Antonio asked.
Nally nodded, moving to sit at the amazing grand piano in front of the full orchestra, still unable to believe he was the captain of this particular ship.
The piece they were recording was for an album of new material, much of which had been composed with To Serve Him in mind, but which hadn’t made it to the final cut of the film. Silver Productions had made the arrangements ages ago and was footing the bill, and ultimately, they and the LSO would collect the lion’s share of the profits from the recording. Nally was happy with the agreement, as it would help his star to rise even more and because he truly loved the pieces he’d composed and wanted the world to hear them.
It was surreal to hear one of the best orchestras in the world play something that had started life in his heart. It was even headier when his piano joined in with the strings and woodwinds. But wildest of all was when they reached the bit with his piano solo.
Something happened to Nally when he slipped into the zone of his music. He wasn’t himself anymore, at least not the everyday version of himself. He was something purer and higher. The piece that he played as the rest of the orchestra softened to a whisper had come straight from his heart. It was tender and romantic, an expression of his soul.
He blocked everything else out and just played. His fears of success, and of failure, vanished. His worry that if things changed, they would change for the worst disappeared. The only thing that remained in his heart and mind were the strains of the song…and Jude.
He smiled and let go of all the restraints he’d imposed on himself as he played. He never would have admitted it before, but he’d composed that heart-wrenching, powerful piece with Jude as his sole focus. It was everything he felt for his friend, every joy Jude gave him and every bit of warmth and affection he had for him. It wasn’t a song about two mates goofing off or being typical twenty-somethings. It was rich and pure and so much deeper than anything else he’d ever composed.
It was love, and there was no way he could run from it or the destruction it might bring anymore.
The solo gave way to another swell of sound as the orchestra joined back in. The musicians were amazing, and under Sir Antonio’s direction, they captured exactly the feel Nally had had in mind when he’d composed the piece. By the time they finished, the entire church was filled with an intangible buzz of emotional excitement.
As soon as the tech gave the signal that they were no longer recording, the musicians lowered their instruments, and several burst into applause for Nally. “That was amazing,” the concert master, who sat closest to Nally, congratulated him. “You are exceptionally talented.”
Nally burst into a smile and immediately turned to look for Jude. Jude was applauding along with the rest of them, his face a canvas of emotion, his blue eyes electric with affection.
That was it. There was no getting around it anymore. Nally and Jude weren’t just friends. They’d run as long as they could, but Nally had spilled the truth of his heart in song, and he saw the answer to his musical offering in the affection that radiated from Jude. They were going to have to deal with the fallout, and if it ended them, it would probably kill Nally.
“Bravo! That was amazing! Bravo!”
The manic shout from the back corner of the church shocked Nally out of his maelstrom of emotions. He glanced beyond Jude to find Quentin applauding loudly and striding forward. The shock of seeing him was so sharp that Nally stood abruptly, nearly knocking the piano bench over as he did.
“Who is he?” Sir Antonio asked, offended by the interruption. “How did he get in here?”
“No, no, you can’t be here,” Jude said, flying to his feet and moving to intercept Quentin as he charged straight for Nally.
Someone shouted, “Get security!”
Someone else asked, “How did he even get in here? This is a closed session.”
Quentin kept moving forward, and when he attempted to shove Jude out of the way, Nally surged forward with, “Don’t touch him!”
“Nally,” Quentin gasped, ignoring everything but Nally, even though Jude still blocked his way. “I have to speak to you. We can’t go on like this any longer.”
“Do you know this man?” a burly man in black trousers and a t-shirt with the word “Security” on the back asked, rushing to join Jude’s efforts to keep Quentin from Nally.
“No. Not really,” Nally answered, panic rising up in him and making him feel sick.
“Of course you know me,” Quentin insisted. “We’re in love,” he told the security guard.
The orchestra members had all risen from their seats and now looked on in confusion. Too many of them stared at Nally. It was exactly the sort of attention that he didn’t want and all the reasons why fame had felt like too much. “Go away,” he told Quentin, sounding and feeling like he was half his age. None of this could be happening.
