"What the hell are you doing here?" I spit as I glare at him.

"Is that Chopin?" Liam asks, avoiding my question.

"So, what if it is? That doesn't permit you to enter without knocking."

"Why would I knock and disrupt your beautiful playing?"

He cannot be serious.

"I'm surprised that you're here this early," I say, shifting back towards my music stand. I purposely lean forward more than I need to, to gather my papers on the stand, causing my shirt to rise a bit. I can already feel Liam's stare on my exposed skin.

"Why does it surprise you?"

"You don't seem like someone who practices early, or at all if I'm honest."

Liam chuckles. "Ah, so you think you're the only one who needs to practice to be the best?" he teases.

"That's not what I said."

"Then what are you saying?"

I sit up from my slouched position in my chair, lengthening my neck in the process. "I don't want to argue about this with you. Can you please go so I can continue practicing?" I ask in a civil tone.

"I would, but you're in my practice room."

I whip around and look at him again. "What do you mean, 'your practice room?' I didn't see your name on the door."

"I always use this room."

I roll my eyes at him. "Well, I'm not leaving."

"If you say so," he says, pushing his instrument off his body before opening its soft-shell case.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Practising, of course," he says, ignoring my presence.

"This is ridiculous! There are eleven other rooms!"

"Yeah, well, you're stuck with me, princess," he coos.

"Don't call me that," I say through gritted teeth.

My reaction causes Liam to laugh again. The sound that leaves his perfectly sculpted lips makes my heart flutter. There's something about the low frequency of his voice that makes my entire body sensitive, including my nipples, which have now become hard beneath layers of fabric.

"Liam," I say softly.

Liam stops his movements and slowly turns to look at me. As he meets my gaze, his entire body relaxes, even the visible vein in his neck, the same vein that appeared in my dreams before the Laura nightmare took over. He lies his bass gently on the floor before approaching me, resting his forearms on the back of my chair.

"Lyla," he whispers.

I look up at him before rolling my eyes and turning away again. Liam doesn't make a sound. Instead, he lightly brushes his fingers across the exposed skin on my neck.

His touch sends shivers throughout my body, causing all the heat to drain from me. Suddenly, I'm frozen. Cannot move, cannot breathe. I let Liam do all the moving, allowing his hands to travel along my jawline to my chin. He effortlessly guides my face back in his direction with the slight pressure of his fingers, and when my eyes meet his again, my body thaws.

"Are you sure you want me to leave, Lyla?" he purrs.

"I-" I choke on a breath.

"Shh," he hisses, touching his thumb to my full lips, "you don't have to speak."

My body aches for his touch the moment he pulls away from me, and as he walks away, my everything begins to purr for him. I have no idea what holds this guy has on me, but it's something magnetically strong. His words make me speechless and touch leaves me breathless. No matter what he does, I'm left balancing on the edge of reality.

"Don't stop playing on my account," Liam says, as he takes a seat on the piano bench.

I shift in my chair again and pull my instrument away from my body. "What do you want to hear?"

"Anything."

His response makes me smirk. I know exactly what I'm going to play for him, Elgar's Cello Concerto in E minor, Op. 85, which just so happens to be my favorite piece.

I allow myself to relax into my seat before resting the cello between my legs again. I've never thought about it before, but the cello really is an intimate instrument, especially when a handsome boy's eyes are trailing all over you.

I begin to play the dramatic introduction and immediately forget that I have an audience. I lose myself in the music, allowing myself to shift with the flow as my fingers dance intricate patterns across the strings. I sing the orchestral parts softy before entering in again, allowing the vibration beneath my hands to carry me through the following measures. Though I feel as if I'm alone, I play as if I am under a massive spotlight. I forget that I really am under the spotlight: Liam's spotlight.

I don't remember Liam's presence until I finish playing and open my eyes, which immediately lock onto his deflated expression.

"That bad?" I ask softly, relaxing into the chair.

Liam shakes his head. "No. That good."

I fix my stare on him, wishing that he would elaborate. Every inch of me already knows that he won't say anything further, and I'll have to accept it.

I let out a long breath before standing up. Liam stands with me, watching my every move as I position my cello in its case. When I turn around, he's right behind me, nearly pressed into my body. I fight the urge to close the distance between us. Instead, I look up and into his eyes.

"I've made you suffer enough. I'll let you practice," I say.

"Wait," Liam says, gently tracing his fingers around my wrist, "you're not leaving me again, are you?"

I look down at where he's touching my skin, wanting so badly to feel his touch on other parts of my body. His calluses tickle slightly as they brush over my smooth, over-moisturized skin before they break contact.

"Do you not want me to leave?" I ask.

"Would you stay if I say no?"

I'm silent for a moment as I stare into him, trying my hardest to read his thoughts. But I can't. There is no way to know what is going on inside that head of his. If I want to find out, I'll have to take a chance and stick around.

"Are you really wanting to practice in front of me?" I ask, this time grasping my fingers around his wrist.

Liam glances down at his bass before meeting my eyes again. "Not really." I tilt my head at him, no doubt with a confused look on my face. A soft laugh escapes Liam's lips. "Have breakfast with me," he says, breaking the silence.

His words catch me off guard. "Breakfast?"