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“I ran home and downloaded The Carpenters’ sheet music and printed it out. Figured I could play along—unless you’d prefer I didn’t?”
What am I supposed to say…no? “Uh, sure. That’s fine.”
“You sure?”
I nodded, although the prospect of him playing alongside me put me on edge. I’d never had to stay in sync with anyone else before. This was supposed to be an informal singalong in a nursing home, not some bizarro-world duet performance.
“Which song are we starting with?” he asked.
“‘Close To You’.” I felt my face heat up.
He nodded and began to sift through his music sheets.
Rather than let my nerves consume me, I forced myself to sit down at the piano and just start. I wasn’t the best singer, but I typically didn’t worry about how I sounded, because as soon as I belted the first notes, my voice was drowned out by every other out-of-tune voice in the room. Except today, all I could hear was Troy—because he was right next to me. And you know what? He had a really nice voice. He also managed to keep up with me. Or maybe it was me managing to keep up with him. Either way, the guitar really complemented the piano, despite my earlier doubts. We were an unlikely musical pairing, but it worked.
I think everyone appreciated the change of pace Troy and his guitar brought to the occasion. All of the elderly women were understandably charmed. We played five Carpenters songs, with plenty of pauses for reminiscing in between, ending on an encore of “We’ve Only Just Begun.” The hour flew by even faster than usual.
After our time was up, I wheeled the piano back to the corner of the room and walked over to Troy.
He put the guitar strap over his shoulder. “It’s four o’clock. You’re off now, right?”
“Yup. Pretty much—after I pick up all these music sheets.”
“Cool. I’ll help clean up and walk you out.”
As I went around the room, I got goosebumps. It felt like something had shifted between Troy and me since the other night.
After the room was clean, Troy waited as I grabbed my personal items from my cubby. Then we walked together slowly out to the parking lot. He gave off a vibe that there was a reason he’d wanted to wait for me.
When we stopped in front of my red Honda Civic, Troy said, “The feeling is mutual, Aspyn.”
The feeling is mutual? “What are you talking about?”
“What you said about me to that chick you were eating lunch with.”
What? My brain raced to backtrack. “You were listening in on our conversation?”
“I was in the hallway outside the dining area—right around the corner at the desk signing in. I couldn’t help overhearing.”
I cleared my throat, fearing the worst. “I don’t remember what I said.”
“Technically, it was half-insult, half-compliment, but I’m choosing to look at it positively.”
I licked my lips. “What did I say?”
“You said you wished I was as trustworthy as I am hot.”
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
There was no way to deny what he’d heard. I just had to come clean.
“I obviously didn’t mean for you to hear that.”
“Clearly. But it’s okay. I already know you don’t trust me, nor should you—yet. But I have to say, I was pleasantly surprised to receive that compliment.”
My cheeks burned. “You know you’re a good-looking guy. Why is that news?”
“It is absolutely news to me that I don’t physically repulse you. You’ve referred to me in the past as ‘annoyingly handsome’ but never hot. It surprises me that you find me attractive, because sometimes if you can’t stand someone, you can’t see past your dislike for them, no matter what they look like.”
Swallowing, I did my best at damage control. “Well, it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just an observation. I think Ted Bundy was kind of good-looking too—in his own way. That doesn’t mean I would have let him into my house.” Shit. What the hell did I just say? My nerves had me spouting out nonsense.
He narrowed his eyes. “You did not just compare me to a serial killer.”
“I was trying to make a point.”
“You made it, alright,” he scoffed.
Shaking my head, I looked down at my shoes. “I’m sorry. That did sound terrible. I’m a bit embarrassed, to be honest. I guess I’m not handling it well.”
“That’s because I intentionally embarrassed you when I called you out. See? I’m already proving your point. I can’t be trusted.” He sighed. “I’ll cut the shit now.”
“Thank you.”
“On one condition…” His mouth curved into a smile.
“You’re evil.” I chuckled.
“Not as evil as a serial killer.”
I crossed my arms. “What’s your condition?”
“My condition is that you give me a chance to transform your opinion of me before I have to go back to Seattle. I want you to deem me as trustworthy as I am…” He paused. “Well, you know…”
“I get your point.” I rolled my eyes. “I don’t understand why it’s so important to prove yourself to me.”
