Passion's Song. Farrah Rochon
he pleaded. “At least think about it. And then say yes.”
Several moments stretched between them before she said, “I’ll think about it. I’ve got another music class starting in a few minutes, so I need to go, but I’ll get back to you later today.”
Damien stood, a smile drawing across his face. “I guess that’ll have to be good enough for now,” he said. He leaned over and placed a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll talk to you later. Thanks for considering this, April.”
He winked at her, then started for the exit, feeling a whole lot better than he had when he’d first walked through these doors.
* * *
I need you to be my girlfriend.
Her stupid heart gave a stupid leap of joy as April replayed Damien’s words in her mind, even after discovering just what he’d meant by that. He needed her to be his fake girlfriend. A pretend love interest. A phony plaything he could drape on his arm so that he wouldn’t have to deal with any of the women who—if he were not tied up with this special project of his—would actually be candidates to be his real girlfriend. Damn him for giving her those few brief seconds of hope.
She snapped the lid closed on the violin case with more force than necessary.
“You’re an idiot,” April said with a disgruntled sigh. “But at least you broke up that fight today before any limbs were lost, so you’re not completely pathetic.”
“You talking to yourself again?”
April yelped and swung around, finding Nicole standing in the doorway.
“Girl!” April yelled, holding her hand to her chest.
“Sorry.” Nicole laughed. “I couldn’t help it.” The twenty-five-year-old sauntered into the room where April had just finished up her intermediate music class. Nicole grabbed the handles of two of the violin cases and followed April to the closet where the instruments were stored at the end of the day.
“Thanks,” April said over her shoulder. She locked the door then turned to find Nicole standing there with her arms crossed.
“So,” Nicole said, a cagey smile tipping up the corners of her lips. “Looks as if you’ve been holding out on us.”
“I have? How so?” She gathered the last of the sheet music into a pile and used the mug from her desk as a paperweight.
“Uh, hellooo!” Nicole sang. “Was that not Damien Alexander who came to see you today? You never told me that you knew him.”
April tilted her head to the side and touched her finger to her chin. “Funny, but I can’t recall telling you even a tenth of the people I know. I’m not sure why I would tell you about Damien.”
“Whatever,” Nicole said with an eye roll to rival those of the teens who walked the halls. “So, how do you know him? More importantly, how well do you know him, if you catch my drift.” She lifted her eyebrows suggestively.
“Get your mind out of the gutter,” April said with a laugh. “Damien and I went to high school together. We’ve been friends for years.”
“So you’re just friends?”
“Just friends,” April said. “Nothing more.”
She would ignore the pang of disappointment that attempted to seep into her skin.
“Awesome,” Nicole said. “That means you wouldn’t have a problem introducing me to him.”
“Believe me, the one thing Damien isn’t looking for right now is to be introduced to a woman. In fact, that’s the exact opposite of what he wants.”
“Don’t tell me he’s gay,” Nicole said in a shocked voice.
April barked out a laugh. “No, he isn’t. He just has no interest in dating right now.”
“So he came to see you? Yikes.”
“I already told you that we’re friends. There’s no reason for me to be upset or offended.”
So what if most women would be offended if a handsome, sought-after bachelor called on them because they were not interested in getting involved with anyone. She was bigger than that, wasn’t she?
No. No, she was not.
But she would save the wall-kicking and raging at the ceiling for tonight, when she was in the sanctuary of her own home with copious amounts of chocolate, wine and Nurse Jackie binge watching to keep her company.
“Whatever you say,” Nicole said. “Oh, I’m doubling up on my hip-hop dance class tomorrow because a bunch of the kids are going to Saint Michael’s Youth Day thing on Friday.”
“Oh, that’s this weekend?”
“Yeah, there’s a bus bringing them over to the Northshore.”
“Hi, ladies.” LaDonna stuck her head in the door. “I heard Damien Alexander stopped in today. Is he still here?”
April threw her hands in the air. “Oh, for crying out loud. Did someone send out a group text as soon as he walked through the door?”
“It was a Snapchat video,” LaDonna said, coming into the room. “Get with the times.”
“I don’t even know what Snapchat is,” April said. She barely remembered to check her Facebook page. “But, to answer your question, no, Damien isn’t here. He had to get back to his office. He was only here because he wanted to ask a favor of me.”
“I’m sorry I missed seeing him,” LaDonna said. “I would have liked to thank him personally for his donation last year.”
“Too bad you missed it. He was something to see,” Nicole said, fanning herself.
April rolled her eyes. “Don’t you have to go break Simeon’s heart again?”
“Hey,” Nicole said with affront. “It’s not my fault he’s still trying even after I told him I wasn’t interested.”
“Maybe if you weren’t giving him all these mixed signals,” April said.
“I do not!”
“Yes, you do,” April and LaDonna said at the same time.
“Case in point, the meeting at my house the other night,” April said. “I know my living room isn’t big, but don’t you think you could have found somewhere else to sit? There was no need for you to plant your behind right next to him on the floor.”
Nicole’s lips scrunched up in a frown. “Fine. No more mixed signals. But it shouldn’t count if I don’t even realize I’m doing it.”
LaDonna put a hand up. “I’m tired of this conversation. Back to Damien Alexander. How well do you know him?” she asked April.
“Well enough. We went to high school together. I used to tutor him in English.”
LaDonna perched her hip on the desk. “This may be just wishful thinking on my part, but do you think there’s any chance you can get him to join us here at A Fresh Start?”
“As in...?”
“As in volunteering,” LaDonna said.
April shook her head. “He has a business to run. He can’t—”
“I know he’s busy,” LaDonna said, cutting her off. “And I’m not talking about full-time, everyday volunteering. I’m talking about an hour a week, maybe on Saturday mornings.
“I’ve been reading all these blogs about ways to increase your chances of winning a grant, and having a well-rounded program seems to be key. We have a nice assortment of recreational programs for the kids, but think of how it would look on our grant application if we had a prominent businessman teaching the kids about money management.”