Mark Me, Shawn Bailey [classic novels for teens .TXT] 📗

I left home.” Eli smiled back at him. Why hadn’t he noticed how handsome Randall was, or how pretty his eyes were? Eli stopped smiling and groaned inwardly. What was happening to him?

“You cut your hair,” Randall said as he adjusted his glasses on his face.

Eli nodded. “I had it done last Saturday after we left the café.”

“I like it,” Randall said. “It makes you look like an adult.”

“Thank you,” Eli said, suddenly feeling a bit flushed. His eyes landed on Randall’s lips. They looked especially pink and pouty. His penis rose slightly in his briefs. Eli bit his bottom lip hard and turned away.

“Have you been practicing for your solo?” Randall asked.

“A little,” Eli said as he stopped panicking and started putting up his music stand. He’d been so busy checking on the delivery of his furniture and trying to find someone to get rid of his tattoos that he hadn’t had time for much else. The tattoos didn’t appear as colorful as they had a week ago. Maybe they were fading. Well, he hoped so.

“I’ll be performing ‘Danse Russe’ by Tchaikovsky.”

“That’s a very difficult piece,” the younger teen said, staring at Eli.

Randall’s blue eyes seemed even larger behind his glasses. Eli gulped, trying not to notice. “Yes, but I am confident I can play it.” He couldn’t tear his eyes off Randall no matter how hard he tried. He felt like a vampire checking out his prey. Randall was about his height, but with a smaller frame. He was also a year younger and his voice had finally stopped cracking a couple of months ago. His new voice was soft, but manly.

Both Randall’s parents were lawyers, and like him, Randall was an only child. They had been taking lessons together for twelve years and he’d never noticed how close they’d become. They didn’t hang out like he did with Justin and the others, but they’d been together almost every Saturday since they were toddlers. “Where is Mr.

Dubisson?” he asked to distract him from undressing Randall with his eyes. Maybe he’d have to seek out therapy if this continued.

“He was here earlier,” Randall said, pulling his violin out of the case. “But he has a visitor…a former student.” Mr. Dubisson had taught a lot of kids since he opened the school thirty years ago, and some of the students had gone on to become famous musicians. Eli supposed one of them had come to pay a friendly visit.

“Mr. Dubisson seemed very happy to see the man. I think he used to be a violinist.”

Used to be? Did that mean the man no longer played? Eli couldn’t imagine not playing the violin. Maybe the guy had hurt his hands or something. Anyway, it wasn’t his concern.

Eli finished setting up the stand and took out his sheets of music.

Then he pulled out his violin. He’d had this one since he was ten. It was a gift from his grandfather who’d played for the New Orleans Symphony Orchestra until he retired ten years ago. He was the one who discovered that Eli had talent at the tender age of five, when he picked up his grandfather’s violin and mimicked a song he’d heard the older man perform.

The other students piled into the auditorium. A few minutes later Mr. Dubisson entered with a young man. The violinist? Eli looked the other man over. He was dressed nicely in a suit and tie. His heart thumped hard in his chest and his palms got all sweaty. He sighed.

Some days it just didn’t pay to get out of bed.

Mr. Dubisson brought the young man to the front of the auditorium and introduced him. “Everyone, I’d like to introduce you to a former student of mine, Dimitri Miller.” He did remember seeing some trophies in Dimitri’s apartment, but he assumed he’d gotten them for something like bowling or tattooing.

Eli never believed in fate. Nor did he believe in coincidences.

“Dimitri played the violin and was a gifted student.” Mr. Dubisson was never one to give out stray or frivolous compliments. If he thought Dimitri had talent, then he had talent. So what had turned a gifted violinist into a tattoo artist and why didn’t he remember seeing him at the school?

Mr. Dubisson walked Dimitri around and introduced him to some of the kids. Apparently he was going to spend some time with them today.

“This is Randall Watkins,” Mr. Dubisson told Dimitri. “He plays second chair. He’s been taking lessons with me since he was four and will be a senior when school resumes in the fall. I’m very proud of him. He is truly a talented violinist.”

If Randall recognized Dimitri, he didn’t let on. He did notice the blush as it rose on Randall’s cheeks when he shook Dimitri’s hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Randall. Please keep up the good work.”

“And this is Eli Coleman, our first chair,” Mr. Dubisson told Dimitri. “Eli just recently graduated from high school and has been accepted at Loyola University’s School of Music on a full scholarship.”

“A music scholarship? Wow. That means he’s pretty good,” Dimitri said. He winked at Eli.

“I don’t mean to brag,” Mr. Dubisson said. “But Eli is a genius when it comes to the violin. He’s been taking lessons with me since he was five. He’s a straight A student, and led his school to several music championships.” Mr. Dubisson paused. “His achievements just bring tears to my eyes. He’s already gotten offers from several orchestras around the world, even Paris.”

“A young virtuoso?” Dimitri asked.

“Yes,” Mr. Dubisson said. “I am proud of him. You must come to hear him play at the recital. He’s performing ‘Danse Russe’ by Tchaikovsky.”

Dimitri whistled. “That’s a very difficult piece.” He extended his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Eli Coleman.” Eli hesitated at first but didn’t want to appear rude in front of his teacher and peers. He accepted Dimitri’s hand. It encircled his. Eli’s heart did that freaky little thumping thing again. The sound echoed in his ears. “Nice to