The Book of Matthew (The Alex Chronicles Book 1) Read Online Free

know Rob.”
    The flight of stairs seemed to go on forever, the sound of our sneakers squeaking up the steps magnified to the point of annoyance. Where the hell was this practice room?
    “Heather mentioned you have your own band,” I said. “That’s awesome.”
    Matt twisted around and flashed me a crooked smile, the first of many crooked smiles, a close-lipped grin that meant a hidden thought or two lay just beyond his pretty lips.
    Finally we reached the top of the stairs. Matt led me into a small room to the left. Music stands, folding chairs, speakers, amplifiers and microphones were strewn about. There was a tall cabinet in the back left corner. A grand piano took up the other corner.
    “This is where the guitar lessons are,” Matt said. “And this is where my band practices.”
    I looked around the room again and noticed thick foam pads on all the walls and on the back of the door. “What’re these things?” I said, poking one of the foam pieces with my finger.
    “Acoustical panels. The room is soundproof.”
    Voices floated up from below, becoming louder as footsteps started up the stairs.
    “Take your coat off and stay awhile,” Matt said. He shrugged out of his jacket and let it fall to the floor in a heap. He pushed it off to the side with his foot.
    “So who else practices here?” I asked, hanging my coat on the back of a folding chair.
    “Just us.”
    “You mean, just your band and the people in this class?”
    “Yep.”
    “What about the other musical organizations? Where do they practice?”
    He shrugged. “The main auditorium, I guess.”
    “They’re not allowed in here?”
    “They don’t have a key,” he said, grinning.
    “So who else has a key?”
    “Just me.”
    “You’re the only person on campus with a key?”
    “Well, Maintenance has one too.”
    “So the university lets you have exclusive access to an abandoned building?”
    He thought about it a moment. “Yeah.”
    “How’d you swing that?”
    “My father pulled some strings.”
    Matt didn’t offer more of an explanation. He just stood staring at me, or through me, I couldn’t tell which, like he did moments ago in the chandeliered room, as if waiting for more questions.
    “Are these lessons free?” I finally asked.
    He motioned with his head to the small group of people filtering into the room. “For them, no.” He leaned in towards me. “But for you…yeah.”
    I laughed nervously and stared at the carpet to hide the sudden warm blush in my cheeks. “You charge them a lot?”
    “Nothing they can’t handle.”
    “From what I hear you’re pretty good.”
    He smirked and said nothing.
    I turned my head and caught a glimpse of the other people in the room with us. Six young men. I was the only girl.
    “Like I said, I’m a beginner,” I said, breaking the silence once more.
    He raised an eyebrow and grinned at me. “I can help you with that.”
    Our eyes caught again and I was suddenly aware that Matt was staring at me, not through me, hanging on every word, every breath. I stared back into his dark green eyes for as long as I could, for what felt like minutes but was really only seconds, while the other people in the room continued to talk amongst themselves, their voices indistinguishable words and murmurs, until the door creaked closed behind us and shut with a thud. It brought me back to attention and I broke eye contact and stared at the floor.
    Matt led me to the tall cabinet and opened the door. Guitars of all shapes and colors and sizes were stacked neatly inside on hooks. He pointed to one of them. “That’s a Gibson Signature Series six-string electric guitar. Mahogany body and neck. Rosewood fingerboard, nickel hardware, and satin lacquer finish in dark cherry.”
    “Okay,” I said, wondering if he realized none of that meant anything to me.
    “That one’s off limits,” he continued. “But you can play any of the others.”
    He reached inside the cabinet and gently pulled out an acoustic