Alva - Social Skills

Music is the only form of communication Connor Owens controls. No matter how badly he wishes to fit in, friendly banter and casual conversations have never been his thing. College is yet another social universe he has no clue how to navigateuntil he meets Jared, a football player with chestnut eyes and a cocky grin that holds the power to shatter his self-imposed prison.

Jared's attention opens Connor up to a new realm of emotional and physical intimacy. But as Connor's self-confidence grows, so does his fear that everything will fall apart. Because in this socially stratified world, how long can a relationship between an introverted violinist and a closeted football player really last?

Re-edited edition

SOCIAL SKILLS

Sara Alva

Social Skills Copyright 2013 Sara Alva. All rights reserved.

Published 2013.

Cover art by Dani Alexander

No part of this book may be used, reproduced, or circulated in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are the authors creation or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

SO IN LOVE (from "Kiss Me Kate")

Words and Music by COLE PORTER

Copyright 1948 (Renewed) by COLE PORTER

Copyright Renewed and Assigned to JOHN F. WHARTON,

Trustee of the COLE PORTER MUSICAL & LITERARY PROPERTY TRUSTS

Publication and Allied Rights Assigned to CHAPPELL & CO., INC.

All Rights Reserved Used by Permission

Dedication

For my husband, who hopefully does not regret the day he said, Babe, you should write a novel.

Acknowledgements

Endless gratitude goes out to:

The wonderful people who helped me during the writing and publishing process: Anyta, Jay, Raevyn, Andra, Jenny, Yvette, Tim, Cole, Daniel and Dani.

The staff and readers at GayAuthors.org, for helping me find my passion.

And to Dani (again), for shouting encouragement from up on his soapbox and for creating the beautiful cover.

FIRST SEMESTER

Chapter One

Connor Owens stepped onto the newly waxed floor, and a rare moment of calm settled over him. The sweet scents of resins and polish, the gently curving stage, the warm weight of his violin in his handsall of it comforting and familiar in the midst of a tumultuous few weeks.

He tightened his bow and fished out his rosin, smiling at the simple pleasure he took in making long, even strokes to coat the horsehairs thoroughly.

This, he knew. This felt right.

In a college life full of unknowns, orchestra would be his sanctuary. He could already feel it as the hum of tuning instruments filled the air, as the winds broke into arpeggios, as the rustle of sheet music on stands alerted him to the new piece theyd be playing: Rimsky-Korsakovs Scheherazade.

He was itching to play it. He wouldnt have the solo, of course, but the entire piece was lovely, and really at that moment it didnt matter what he played so long as he could play, surrounded by the myriad of sounds from all the other instruments. This was the kind of group in which he could belong without having to try so hard it literally made his head hurt. This came naturally.

Hi! A female voice greeted him, and he followed a peasant skirt up to the face of a tall, willowy girl with hair that hung to her waist. Im Rebecca. She gathered the dirty-blond wisps behind her head and tied them into a low ponytail as she sat next to him. Looks like Im your stand partner. You must be Connor.

He nodded, extending his hand for her to shake and battling a blush when her grip was much firmer than his.

Youre a first year, right? she continued.

Yeah.

Must be pretty good, then, to be up here in the first violins already. It took me two years to fight my way up here.

He shrugged. Praise never sat well with him, no matter how many times his mother chastised him for not politely accepting compliments.

Well, when we have sectional practice, dont let Vidar intimidate you. Hes a bitter, bitter, Scandinavian man. I bet he thinks hes too good to be hired staff for a college orchestra, but I would guess that hes not, or else hed have found another job.

Connor let out a low chuckle with a nervous glance to where the man in question sat five stands away, running scales with a pinched expression on his face.

Rebecca followed his eyes. You see what I mean, right? You can totally tell hes got a stick up his ass.

This time Connor laughed openly, and when Rebecca joined in it gave him an instant shot of elation. Maybe music could be more than just the solace he was looking for. Maybe it would give him the chance to form a new friendship as well. It shouldnt be so hardeven for himto build upon the connection between stand partners, on the way they learned to play as one, moving and bowing in complete synchronization.

We can practice together, if you like. Rebecca tightened her bow. You know, try our best not to incur his wrath.

Connor opened his mouth slowly. Ohum

Tap-tap-tap from a baton interrupted, and a hush fell over the assembled crowd. The conductor raised his arms, and as if an invisible string tied his tiny stick to every instrument, all rose in unison.

Rebecca smiled at Connor one more time, and he returned it. Maybe Rebecca, olderand wiser, no doubtcould become his liaison into the world of collegeprovided he could beat back his shyness long enough to give her a chance.

It was a good thing she was a girl.

***

He headed back to his room in a better mood than usual, letting Scheherazade s melodies play through his head. If he kept up the tempo, hed have time to make it through the first movement and at least part of the second by the time he reached his building. Hereford was a lot further out than the regular first-year dorms, but the newer construction meant air conditioning, something his mother had uncompromisingly demanded for her asthmatic son.

Just as well. He wouldnt have fit in at the first-year dorms, anyway.

Of course, there really wasnt a practical way to avoid passing by those hubs of social interaction. He averted his eyes from the gaggles of students lounging about the quad, laughing and sharing food, gossip, and in quite a few cases, saliva. Scheherazade picked up speed with his footsteps. With any luck, hed look like someone who needed to be somewhere in a hurry, and not like an outcast who simply didnt know how to belong.

As he neared Alderman Road, a blue and orange Frisbee with the familiar block V for Virginia landed by his feet.

Hey! An olive-skinned boy waved at him. Toss it here, will ya?

Connor picked up the Frisbee and turned it over in his palm. He contemplated throwing it, but by now a group had formed around the boy, and he had no desire to make a public display of his weak throwing arm.

He crossed the distance between them and offered the disc with an outstretched hand. Um, here you go.

From the gathered crowd, a familiar-looking face with a popped-collar polo shirt stepped forward. Hey, you went to my high school. Youre that violin player, right?

Connor blinked rapidly. Had someone popular actually recognized him? But then he returned to his senses and felt the strap of his violin against his shoulder. It didnt exactly take a brilliant deduction to pin him as that violin player .

He nodded. Uh, yeah. Connor.

Tim, the former classmate said, though that was unnecessary because Connor already knew his name. He was good about affixing names with faces, even if hardly anyone ever did the same for him. Hey, you wanna join us?