The next morning, the hallway was buzzing with students talking about the upcoming rehearsals. My mind was already cluttered with thoughts about Jason, and my weekend trip home, so I barely paid attention to my surroundings—until I saw him.
Xavier.
He was leaning against a row of lockers, talking to a few guys from the music department. His usual confident smirk was there, but the moment his eyes flickered to me… he looked right past me.
Like I wasn’t even there.
My stomach twisted. Okay. So we were doing this now.
Fine.
I squared my shoulders, lifted my chin, and walked right past him without a second glance. If he wanted to pretend nothing happened, then so could I.
I made my way to the rehearsal hall, where Jacques was already waiting. He stood in the center of the room, looking through his script with a deep frown, his glasses perched at the edge of his nose.
"Ah, Mademoiselle Rubio,p" he said in his thick French accent, lifting his gaze to me. "You are late."