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His dimples flash.
My throat tightens on impact.
“The roses were for you, Dejonae,” he says with an unexpected tenderness.
“Oh.”
“Oh?” His eyes sparkle like the stars.
I can’t do this anymore. “How about we get started? I don’t know how many takes we’ll need before we figure out how to harmonize with each other.”
“We will not need more than one take,” he says confidently.
“You think you’re that good?” I tilt my head back to look at him.
“I think whatever music we create together will be perfect.”
Okay.
A grouchy, reserved Sazuki, I can handle.
A dimple-flashing Sazuki, I can barely survive.
But this?
He’s going to lay me out on the floor before we play the first note.
I fight to maintain my composure. “You’re teasing me.”
“I am being honest.”
“You’re being strange. If this is your way of apologizing for the Belle’s Beauty gala, there’s no need. It happened a long time ago and I understand why you were upset.” I try to sound stern. “There’s nothing left to discuss, Mr. Sazuki.”
“Ryotaro.”
I freeze, hardly believing my ears.
“Call me Ryotaro,” he instructs in a low, husky voice.
“Definitely not doing that,” I mumble, hurrying around the piano.
I take my seat. When Sazuki sits beside me, he gives me a small, affectionate smile that stalls my brain. It takes me a second to remember where I am and what I’m doing.
“Uh… am I playing the melody?” I point to the sheet music.
“You can play the higher keys. I will play the bass.”
My stomach clenches again. Why am I so nervous? Because of the event or because I’m sitting so close to him?
“Miss Williams.” In his thick accent, my last name sounds like something different. Something special.
I look over at him.
“It will be okay.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” My throat is too dry to swallow. “I’m ready.”
He nods once and presses the button to start recording.
