Scott couldn't make sense of any of it.
Time-- that should have given him some semblance of clarity, some understanding of what was happening to him. But instead it just made it worse. Every minute that passed between him walking through the threshold of her apartment and now was another minute of emotional confusion. Weed or music couldn't chase it away. Even composition didn't help, despite that being a constant in the past, a way for him to chart his emotions and get them out.
Yet that was part of the problem. He knew it was silly to feel so much so quickly, to need to compose over something as simple as a drunken kiss outside her apartment. But it'd been more than that before she leaned in for that kiss. It'd been more than that since they played that fucking song in the elevator. It'd been more than that when he first heard her laugh filtering through Booker's doorway, since he saw her smile, since-- he couldn't even pinpoint when it began.
It was too fast. They didn't even know each other all that well and he was aware of it. So what was his fucking problem? Why were these feelings so intense that they overwhelmed him? Was this normal, or was he having some sort of medical issue that caused him to form such a quick attachment to her? Perhaps these were questions that deserved no answer; her smile made his heart lock in his throat, plain and simple, and he wasn't sure if he was worthy of seeing it. That was the problem.
She hadn't shown up to practice that afternoon. Scott had every intention of confronting Laslow, but when she wasn't there, he didn't have the energy to do much of anything. He'd been scattered throughout practice, forgetting pieces they needed to look over, eventually ending the whole thing early, because what was the point of it without her there? Not just in the sense of the ensemble being whole and complete, but because he couldn't focus. Because he was worthless with or without her.
Laslow's looks and gloats hadn't gone unnoticed. Neither were they returned. He deserved it. He packed up silently, hardly sparing a glance up.