Ch. Piano boy Ch 1 Piano boy Ch 1

Piano Boy 

My neighbor, Ethan, was a piano prodigy. 

Awards piled up before he even turned sixteen. But then he met Sarah, a girl from my class.

He let her sit, giggling, on his beloved Steinway while she kissed him.

For her, he ditched practice, trashed the piano, and spiraled. So, I told his parents. 

Ethan was shipped off to a music conservatory in Austria. Years later, he became a huge success, a shining star in the entertainment industry.

And me? I landed an internship at his company, hoping to break into the music scene myself.

He barely glanced up, pointed at me, and said, “Her.” 

That night, my manager got me drunk and delivered me to the hotel rooms of various investors.

Ethan stood in the doorway, a cigarette dangling from his lips, a smirk playing on his face.

“Consider this a thank you for your little tip–off all those years ago.” 

I didn’t survive that night. The assault was brutal. I woke up, back in my junior year of high school, before any of it happened. 

“Wouldn’t it be awesome to bring a guy like that down a peg or two?”

Sarah, my best friend, mused, chin resting in her hand.

“He’s got such a serious look about him. Wonder what he’s like to kiss?” 

Across the street, silhouetted against the window, sat Ethan, all of eighteen years old. 

My breath hitched. I looked at Sarah, that same look of predatory amusement in her eves like she was about to bag herself 

eyes, like she was about to bag herself a 

prize. Back then, I’d thought she was all talk. 

Then, that very night, I’d seen her perched on 

his piano, kissing him. 

I was back. I slammed the window shut, my 

heart pounding against my ribs. “I need to 

study,” I said, trying to sound normal. “You 

should probably head home.” 

Sarah pouted. “Aren’t you curious? I thought 

you had a crush on him.” 

My stomach twisted. Seventeen–year–old me 

had made two monumental mistakes: 

crushing hard on Ethan without ever saying a 

word, and then ratting him out for dating 

Sarah. He’d hated me for it, for six long 

years. Hated me enough to destroy me as 

payback. 

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The memory of that freezing night flooded 

back. I clenched my fists, biting my lip hard 

enough to draw blood. 

“No,” I said, my voice steady. “I’ve never had 

a crush on him.” 

Sarah grinned, a sly, knowing look in her 

eyes. “Good. ‘Cause, you know, Ethan and I 

are kinda a thing now. Didn’t want to, like, 

freak you out or anything.” 

Déjà vu. Sarah was playing her usual games. 

She was infamous for it. Every cute guy in 

school had been through the Sarah cycle. She 

was loud, rebellious, everything a good girl 

wasn’t supposed to be. But that kind of girl 

had a pull on guys like Ethan, the quiet, rule- 

following type. 

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I remembered my dying moments, my hand, 

scarred with cigarette burns, clutching at 

Ethan’s crisp white shirt. “Even if you hate 

me,” I’d choked out, “you shouldn’t do this.” 

He’d looked down at me, a cruel twist to his 

lips. “And how should I deal with it, Quinn? If 

it wasn’t for you, Sarah wouldn’t have married 

that loser, wouldn’t have died in childbirth. 

Why should she be dead and you get to live?” 

“It’s not fair, Quinn.” 

Because of my interference, Ethan had been 

forced abroad. Sarah, her dreams of art 

school dashed by the pregnancy, had married 

some deadbeat who quickly abandoned her. 

She’d died alone in a back–alley clinic. Ethan 

blamed me. He believed that if I hadn’t 

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interfered, none of it would have happened. 

I looked down. “That’s…great. I wish you 

both the best.” 

Sarah gave me a strange look and then 

shrugged it off. 

The days crawled by. Ethan and Sarah’s 

relationship played out like a bad teen movie. 

Secret dates, matching tattoos, stolen kisses 

on the Ferris wheel, late–night motorcycle 

rides. They were so wrapped up in each 

other, they forgot they were supposed to be 

students. I watched it all unfold, a silent 

observer, focused on my studies. I’d switched 

from the arts program back to the academic 

track. No more chasing Ethan’s shadow. It 

was a tough road, but I was determined to 

make it work. 

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Then, one day, I overheard Sarah bragging. 

“Ethan’s such a dork. Clueless. If it weren’t 

for the whole piano prodigy thing, the fame, 

who’d want him?” 

“Girl, please,” another girl scoffed. “He’s way 

out of your league. He’s probably just playing 

you.”