"I'm not," I insist, pressing my lips together to hold back a grin. "Once Upon a Dream,though? Really?"
His hands don't stop moving, the melody transforming into something surprisingly complex and beautiful. "I loved that story as a kid."
"Oh, because the handsome prince gets the girl in the end?" The words come out teasing, but honestly, it would make sense. Looking at him now—all sharp jaw and perfect features, an heir to an actual family empire—he's basically a modern-day prince. Complete with the castle-sized house in Willow Bay I'm sure he left behind.
He grows serious, though the music continues to flow. "No, that's not it. It's because the prince chooses to fight the dragon. He could have stayed in his castle, followed the rules, and lived the life that was planned for him. Instead, he rides into the thorns and faces the darkness, because something more important waited on the other side."
Oh.
The melody shifts under his fingers, growing softer, more introspective. I watch his profile in the moonlight, seeing him—really seeing him—maybe for the first time. Not the polished, corporate ice cream vendor or the shadow of a rebellious son, but just… Grant. A man who remembers the courage in fairy tales instead of the crown.
"And what do you think was waiting on the other side?" I whisper.
His fingers falter on the keys for just a moment. "I'm still figuring that out." The song ends, and he looks up at me. His eyes are the stormiest I've ever seen them. "But I think... I'm starting to discover it."
For a breath, neither of us moves. My heart drums its own rhythm—wild and syncopated, nothing like my usual steady four-four time. His hand finds mine, hesitating until I accept it, intertwining our fingers in a way that feels like the most natural thing in the world.
"Rachel." My name in his voice sounds different here in the darkness. Like a melody I want to learn by heart.
I don't remember who moves first. Just that one moment we're sitting in charged silence, and the next his lips are on mine—soft and careful, exactly the way I imagine a prince would wake a sleeping princess: gentle, as if afraid the spell might break too soon.
His free hand comes up to brush hair behind my ear and cup my cheek. I lean into the touch, letting out a small sigh that seems to break something loose in him. The kiss deepens, turning into something warmer, sweeter than any ice cream he could ever serve.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. He rests his forehead against mine, his thumb tracing gentle patterns on my cheek. The piano keys dig into my side where I'm half-turned toward him, but I couldn't move if I wanted to.
"I should go," I whisper, though everything in me rebels against the idea. "It's late, and I have work to finish."
He nods but doesn't pull away. "I'll see you on the beach tomorrow."
"Planning to upstage my snow cone cart again?"
He chuckles and presses one more quick kiss to my lips. "Planning to hear you play again. Your music... it makes everything clearer somehow."
I stand on shaky legs, gathering my scattered thoughts. At the door, I turn back. Grant still sits at the piano, his hair mussed from when my fingers ran through it (when did that happen?), his collar askew. He's never looked less like magical royalty, and I've never wanted to kiss someone more.
"Oh, Rachel?" His voice catches me just as I'm stepping into the hallway. "I've heard The Siren's Song on Seabreeze Avenue has the best seared scallops on the East Coast. Maybe after we finish our shifts tomorrow...?" There's something endearingly uncertain in his voice, like maybe he's not so perfectly composed after all.
"Are you asking me on a date, Mr. Pierce?"
Even in the darkness, I can see his smile. "I believe I am, Ms. Williams."
"Well, in that case..." I lean against the doorframe, fighting a grin. "I suppose I could be convinced, but only if there's dessert involved."
"I'm pretty sure I can arrange that." His voice is warm, a promise that brings heat to my cheeks.
"Good night, Grant."
"Good night, Rachel."
I make my way down the dim hallway toward my classroom, my footsteps echoing. Behind me, I hear the soft notes ofSomeday My Prince Will Comedrifting through the darkness, this time with a jazzy swing that brings a smile to my face. My fingers tap against my leg as I walk.
Those inventory sheets won't fill themselves out, but somehow I can't bring myself to care. Not when my lips are still tingling and my heart is composing its own fairy tale melody—one that sounds suspiciously like jazz piano and tastes like vanilla ice cream with a hint of sea salt.
When I'd started the summer, I'd had it all planned out: save the band program, fight off the fancy competition, and keep my heart safely tucked away. Now, here I am, falling for the very man I'm supposed to be battling, and somehow the music has never sounded sweeter.
Rachel
"So," I say, walking up alongside Grant's ice cream cart. The ocean breeze is mercifully calm today, and most of my braid is still in place. The late afternoon sunlight glints off his chrome counter, nearly as blinding as his practiced smile. The scent of waffle cones and salted caramel drifts through the air, mingling with sea spray. "Has anyone told you about Moonbeams & Movie Munchies Madness yet?"
