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“I love piano.”
Her eyes crease with her nod. “I know you do.”
“I-I might need more practice than you. I might be slower to?—”
She leans forward, clasping my face in her hands. “That’s not what I mean and you know it.”
My eyes cut to the right, gaze catching on the small black infinity symbol inked into Izzy’s wrist. I have the same one, in the exact same spot, just under the heel of my palm. We got them last winter. Older brother of a kid in our class did them.
“Eyes like smiles like figure eights,” I sing quietly.
Izzy smirks, singing back whisper-light, “Girl, you got me spinnin’…”
At that word, my brain travels back, back, back to a different melody—one that still haunts me.
I tried to create a song of it, and while I did manage to scrape up some lyrics, using a couple fragments of words from past journaling attempts—snippets of ideas and observations and feelings—the music changed. Especially once Izzy joined in to help. It quickened. Became something else. Became ours.
“Maybe that’s what you’re supposed to do.”
I make a noise through my nose, and reach under Izzy’s bent arms where she still holds my face, and wrap mine around her waist, tugging her to me. Her fingers slide up into my hair, tipping my head back.
“Write?” I murmur.
She nods. “Create.”
“That was just for fun. For you. For us. We both wrote it.”
“Ah, I see,” she says, biting my lip. “You wanna do it all on your own.”
“I didn’t?—”
“It’s okay,” she murmurs. “It’s okay to have something that’s just yours.”
“Music is ours,” I say back.
She nods, dragging her lips across mine. “Always. For infinity.”
I smile into the kiss, sliding my hands down her thighs, and dragging her onto my lap. “Infinity.”
She pulls back, smiling. “And if that infinity branches off into other little infinities, that’s okay too. That’s the beauty of it after all. There will always be new melodies. It’s endless.”
I nod. “Like my love for you.”
Her nose scrunches in that way it does—like a bunny—creasing her eyes. “Cheesy.”
Narrowing my eyes, I rub our noses together. “So, so cheesy.”
No more words are spoken after that, not for a while. And in the tangle of limbs and tight heat and soft, grazing kisses and touches that go from reverent to impassioned and back to exhausted lightheartedness…
I forget about that little twinge at the back of my mind.
Forget about the doubts and my fears for what’s in store next year.
I forget about everything but the girl in my arms, the girl who’s been a part of me for as long as piano has. There’s no one without the other. They coexist, right next to my beating heart.
And later, much later, when we’re dressed and saying our goodbyes on the front porch, I tell her with the utmost confidence, “You’re gonna blow their minds, Iz.”
If there’s one thing I am absolutely certain of, it’s that.
