Page 20 of Counterpoint and Harmony

Chapter Thirteen

Bridge:

A transitional passage connecting two sections of a composition

A part of a violin family or guitar/lute family stringed instrument that holds the strings in place and transmits their vibrations to the resonant body of the instrument

Damian

I’m in the practice room when my phone vibrates on the piano bench. I hear it over the sound of my own cello filling the tiny room. Annoyance flickers through me at the disruption that shatters my focus. I should’ve put my phone on Do Not Disturb.

Laying my bow on the music stand, I move my cello to the side so I can lean forward and grab my phone, my irritation fading away when I see it’s a text from Charlie. That’s the real reason I didn’t turn my phone off. I was hoping I’d hear from her.

They went for it!!

A grin stretches across my face, and without thinking, I unlock my phone and call her.

She picks up after two rings, her voice breathless in my ear. “Hi, Damian. I didn’t expect you to call.” Her voice hits me like a punch to the gut, albeit one that spreads warmth all through me. Time and space hasn’t dulled her effect on me. If anything, it’s only intensified. For a while, even hearing her songs on the radio was torture. Now, though, I don’t avoid them as much. Not since we’ve started talking again. I’m not sure where this is going, but I like that we’re at least friends.

“I didn’t think a text message would adequately convey how happy I am for you. I know you’ve been working hard. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” I can hear the smile in her voice and can’t stop the answering one from spreading across my own face. Pinching the phone between my ear and my shoulder, I lay my cello down on the floor next to me and settle back in my seat, all thoughts of practicing gone for now. The cello can wait.

“Tell me about the meeting. Did they take much convincing, or did they jump on board right away?”

She laughs, and the familiar tingle I get at the sound runs down my arms. “He took a little convincing, but once he heard the demo, he was sold.” She fills me in on the meeting, her voice animated and happy, and I sit, one leg crossed over the opposite knee, enjoying listening to her talk. “God, I’ve missed this.”

The words are out without thinking, and I don’t even realize I’ve spoken the thought aloud until Charlie cuts off mid sentence, the sound of her breath whooshing out the only thing letting me know she’s still there.

“What do you mean?” she asks softly.

I swallow hard, sitting up straighter in my chair and rubbing my free hand down my leg. But it’s already out there. I may as well say it again. “Just what I said. I miss talking to you like this. Hanging out. Although we used to do it in person, not so much on the phone. But it’s good to hear your voice.”

“You never did like talking on the phone very much. You always asked me to come over or if you could come to my place.” The smile is back in her voice.

“Can you blame me? Would you rather talk on the phone when we have the option to spend time in the same room instead?”

There’s a moment of hesitation before she responds. “Are you saying you’d like to be in the same room if we could?”

I snort. “Of course. Like you said, I’m not a huge fan of talking on the phone. But you’re like a thousand miles away, so I don’t see that happening anytime soon.”

She gives a noncommittal hum, and I don’t really know what that means. I swallow again, feeling jittery and nervous. The last time I opened myself up to her, I ended up flying home from California by myself. I get up, but there’s nowhere to go in the practice room. An upright piano takes up the whole back wall, my stand sits directly in front of it, my chair in front of that with my cello on the floor next to it, and my case stands in the corner behind the door. There’s two feet of space to the right of my chair, and that’s it.

I sit back down. She still hasn’t said anything else, and now the silence feels awkward.

I clear my throat. “Well, uh, anyway. I just wanted to tell you congratulations. But I should probably get going. I was in the middle of practicing.”

“Oh. Right. Of course.” Is it my imagination or does she sound disappointed? “Thanks for calling.”

“Yeah, sure. I’m really happy for you. I hope they like the rest of your songs. The ballad sounds like it’ll be awesome.”

“Yeah.” Her voice is smaller, not so animated as before. “Um, can I call you again sometime? I mean, just, y’know, to talk. Or maybe get your opinion about a song or something?”

The vulnerable hope in her voice twists something inside me. “Yeah. Of course. I’d like that.”

“Good. Great.” She sounds a little happier now. “I’ll let you get back to practicing then. Thanks again.”

“Sure.”

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