Page 58 of Crescendo

“I dunno. You seem to genuinely like her. All that talk about her intelligence and her creativity. And… this session’s been good, so I guess today’s just been, uh… armistice.”

Seemed like it was more than just that. But Hannah was a prickly little hedgehog who needled you if you pushed her, so I decided to let her hustle back on into her little burrow. “Thanks,” I said, just a bit more genuine. She shrugged.

“That thing you were playing was proper sound, anyway. You good to play it again?”

Well, in the name of armistice, I didn’t see why not.

∞∞∞

Ella was playing when I got back to the apartment, piano music rolling quietly from the music room, and I leaned against the door, taking it in, because apparently this was what I did—crept on her listening to her play. Something about the vulnerability of music made it feel just as intimate as when we were in bed together, hands on each other’s bodies.

And I liked being intimate with Ella, so it worked.

She was pulling it together now, already, after only a week of practice, which was incredible—gentle chords and a rich, flowing melody, harmonizing together to a solid rhythm. It was a heartfelt piece, suspended chords giving a wistful timbre, and the melody that sounded like something out of a tearjerking blockbuster…

Only a week and I barely even recognized the woman who’d made that stale, static application piece. I also barely recognized myself, getting so emotional over it, as if I hadn’t listened to and written a hundred songs like it.

Ah, whatever. No sense hiding from the truth. I liked this woman a lot. My strongest feelings usually petered out to nothing after I indulged them for a while, and I just had to hope these feelings would do the same, or I’d be in trouble at the end of these two months.

Quietly, I pushed into the music room, and the sight of Ella there absolutely stole my breath away for more reasons than just the music—she wore a stunning long green dress, her hairup in an elegant twist with an understated hair ornament, and the low-cut swoop on the back of her dress showing the long, smooth skin of her back, peppered with freckles, mostly in a band from her left hip to her right shoulder, looking like stars in an arm of the galaxy—I stood staring for a second thinkingJesus, that’s a woman I’d like to walk into an event flaunting on my arm.

I shut the door quietly, and I waited until she finished the song before I clapped quietly, and she jolted, a little bit less than usual. Getting used to my creeping act, I guess.

“When did you get back?” she laughed, turning back and standing up from the bench, and just… wow. She hadn’t held back on the makeup either. I stared for a second too long.

“When did I—what?”

She raised her eyebrows. Christ, the smoky-eye on those damn eyes of hers was… well, it was something. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, just… just been, er, I’m just, uh.” I blanked, and I decided honesty was the only recourse. “Sorry, I lost my train of thought when I saw how hot you are.”

She snorted, hanging her head. “Not missing a single second to flatter me.”

“Flatter you? I’m vastly underselling you. Nobody’s going to be looking at the musicians on stage once you walk in.”

She winced, shifting from one foot to the other. “Er… I think, actually, about that. I think I might… not make it to the show tonight. I’m in a good place with my music right now—working on my composition—so I figured I’d just… stay here working on it.”

I blinked, slowly, twice. “And you got dressed up like that for, what, chippy?”

“I was going to—well.” She blushed, but with that expression on her face, it wasn’t the fun kind of blush, like whenI backed her against the wall and caressed my fingertips down her cheek. This one was stress, panic, anxiety. “I was planning on going. I got ready to go. Of course, it’s a great opportunity. Just, I haven’t been to watch a symphony orchestra since… I mean, it’s been a long time, erm—I just… I don’t know if I know enough about orchestration at this point to really enjoy it to the most I can,” she mumbled. “I’m sorry. You should go on without me, enjoy the show.”

“Ella, what in the world are you talking about? You know plenty more than enough to enjoy the music. I saw you—” I gestured back towards the front door. “You were standing on that stoop looking like you were hearing the voice of angels listening toGibson Gives ChasefromOver the Moon.And that one is objectively a bit shit.”

She laughed, a sudden sound pulling itself up from her and surprising herself. “It is not even a bit shit,” she protested.

“You know how to enjoy music. And I want to spend the evening with you. If you don’t…” I hesitated. “If you don’t enjoy it, we can leave halfway through. Or even a quarter of the way through.”

She pursed her lips, shooting me a wild look that I think was supposed to be controlled and restrained. “I really wouldn’t want to do that to you,” she said, her breath a little short. “It’s your first time hearing the Royal Philharmonic at their home. I know this means a lot to you.”

That song had been so… sad, aching. Her comment that she hadn’t seen a symphonysincesomething, and this look like she was panicking over it—the fact that she’d clearly spent the day trying to psych herself up to going.

I’d picked the wrong day to be out. She’d probably needed somebody with her here today. I’d kick myself another time.

“Ella,” I said quietly, stepping up close to her, laying a hand on her arm. “I can listen to music anytime. Yes, it means alot to me, but your wellbeing does, too. I don’t want you to be left out. Come with me to the theatre, at least. If you want to leave at any point—even just the second you sit down, or the moment the music starts—I’ll go with you, and we’ll get cheese and onion pie.”

“I’m not a child,” she shot, but I think she was saying it to chide herself, not to shut me down. I smiled, squeezing her arm, slipping my hand up to cup her cheek.

“Then we’ll order off the adult’s menu.”

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