“It’s just like you said with Marianelli. I felt alive in a way I hadn’t before. It was simple gospel hymns, but they were different from the box I’d been confined to—even borderline cheerful. They weren’t about keeping my fingers spaced perfectly or pressing on the pedal withjustenough pressure. They were about the feeling behind it.”
I understood. I understood in a way that had the hairs on my arms rising from how freaky it felt to hear someone else voice the words. Voice my own feelings. Before I could second-guess myself, I set down the rest of my cookie, turned off the classical playlist on my phone, and heaved myself up off the blanket.
It was a short walk to the piano, and I didn’t waste any time joining Noah.
“I get it,” I said just as softly before nudging Noah’s shoulder until I could clumsily join him on the bench. He moved to the side, sliding so gracefully I kind of wanted to throw up a little bit. My hand reached out, and my middle finger hit the same happy note three times in a row. Then I tapped it again, as well as the next two to the left. Switching again to the right, I took turns tapping the next three keys in a row with an extra amount of fervor until I threw an extra tap in on the last one. “Do you know this one?”
“I do.” Noah moved both hands back to the keys. His right one rested close to mine, and I chuckled.
“No.” I swatted his hand away instead of grasping it like I itched to. “I meant as a duet. Not by yourself.”
He blinked back at me, and I’d never seen Noah look more ruffled. “But—”
“You do the low notes, and I’ll do the high ones,” I explained in layman’s terms, unsure why he looked so confused right now. It was just a beginners’ duet. Most kids knew this one by heart. “Okay?”
“I don’t do duets,” Noah said, and he moved his right hand next to mine again. I raised a challenging brow at it, not backing down. “In fact, I’ve never played a duet.”
It was my turn to blink, but he didn’t seem to be joking. “You do know our partner project is a duet, right?”
Noah chuckled and ran his tongue over the front of his teeth. “I realize that.”
“Then it sounds like we have quite a dilemma here,” I said with mock-solemness. “There’s two options. Either you can keep being the guy who plays solo, or you can learn how to share. Do you need some time to think about it? It’s a big decision.”
That got another quiet chuckle out of him. Noah shook his head with a rueful smile and glanced down at where our hands rested next to each other. “I don’t think it’s quite as dire as you make it sound.”
The hushed way he spoke—like we were sharing a secret—spread a warmth through my stomach at its intimacy. I tried to play it cool and licked my lips.
“What kind of guy are you gonna be, Noah?” I asked quietly, not wanting to break the sudden stillness settling into the room.
His eyes trailed up to mine, and he studied me with an intensity that made my hands tremble against the keys. Up close, the hazel in his eyes was ringed with a warm gold.
“The kind who plays duets with a beautiful girl, apparently,” he finally answered, and I had to drop my gaze to the keys to stop myself from spontaneously combusting. The hand next to mine retreated as his other one took up its appropriate spot on the bass side. His first note filled the place of the beat my heart skipped, and my toes tapped along as he worked through the opening. Then I joined in with those three happy treble notes, and a moment later we were creating something that was only meant for the two of us.
I didn’t care that my face was flushed from the pleasure of playing Noah’s first duet with him, or that I was nervous my fingers would fumble over such a simple, repetitive melody. It didn’t faze me that we were in the middle of a college campus, and that anyone with swipe access could barge in at any moment.
Because when Noah’s free hand rested atop his slacks as we played, his knuckles grazed against my thigh in a way that awakened goose bumps all the way down to the tips of my toes. His hand stayed there for three whole iterations of the duet, until it slid down and cupped my knee.
I stumbled over a note, but then he did too—and “Heart & Soul” quickly became my new favorite song.
CHAPTER19
A Tutor
Cupcake Thief: Second lesson in all things magic: Be aperformer, not a showoff. Nobody likes a showoff.
Emma: Nobody likes people who steal their cupcakes, either.
Cupcake Thief: Touché.
* * *
Sunday arrived far too soon,and the happy haze from my date with Noah had almost completely worn off within the first ten minutes of my piano tutoring job.
“Miles Preston Fitzgerald Sterling the Third, I swear to God—I mean, I swear to the creator of sugary breakfast cereals everywhere—if you don’t sit your boney little butt down on this piano bench, you’ll regret it.”
Miles stopped midstrike with his lightsaber and frowned. He was my most rambunctious student—out of the two who hadn’t quit on me yet—but I’d take him over a certain gum-chewing demon spawn any day. It didn’t hurt that his parents were loaded, and I only had to switch buses once to reach their neighborhood.
The Sterlings’ marble-covered parlor was dedicated to the most gorgeous Steinway grand piano I’d ever laid eyes on. An expensive-looking rug lining the floor made me a little antsy, but the whole room was the embodiment of opulence. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out into the garden. An odd assortment of plants filled each corner, softening the vibe. There was a shapely white couch, plus poofy chairs I was pretty sure weren’t for sitting on. Even the air smelled higher quality.
