Page 84 of Better Than the Movies
Had I completely imagined the moment on the floor?
I took my spot and watched the rest of the movie, but my attention was now on the two people I could see in my periphery. What were they talking about? Why were they out there? I totally lost focus and was happy when the movie ended and they came inside.
I needed to get my head straight.
The people around me started talking to each other, and I felt awkward and out of place. And I missed Jocelyn. We texted every day, like always, but I hadn’t spent any quality time with her lately. Being with all these people who were close friends with each other made me homesick for her; I needed to go over there after I got home.
In fact, it was probably time for me to come clean to her about the whole thing.
“Did you know that Michael’s father has a grand piano?” Wes looked down at me from where he’d perched his big self on the back of the sofa and held out a hand to help me up. “It’s upstairs in an acoustically designed room.”
I grabbed his hand and climbed to my feet, and oh sweet Lord, it felt like a Mr.-Darcy-hand-flex-from-the-best-version-of-Pride-&-Prejudicemoment. The world stopped spinning for just a second when his big hand wrapped around mine.
But then, just as fast, the spinning returned, and I was face-to-face with Wes and all of my confusion. I looked at his face—and then at Michael, who I hadn’t even noticed until then—and realized they were waiting for a response from me.
To what, again? What was words? How was talk?
“Wow.”Dad. Piano. Room. Got it.“For real?”
“I think he’s convinced he could’ve been a classical pianist if he’d had that room at a younger age.” Michael crossed his arms and said, “He’s obsessed with it.”
“Our Little Liz plays piano.” Wes gave me a look and said to Michael, “She’s really good.”
I said, “No, I’m not—”
Just as Michael said to me, “Do you want to see it?”
I blinked. “I wouldloveto.”
“Well, then, follow me, Miz Liz.”
Michael walked over to the stairs and I followed, but I almost tripped when I glanced behind me and saw that Wes wasn’t coming with us. He was laughing at something Adam was saying, so I took a deep breath and proceeded upstairs, overwhelmed by my thoughts as I climbed the steps.
Was this some sort of a signal? By literally handing me off to Michael, was that his figurative way of handing me off and walking away?
Gosh, it probably would’ve been funny if it were happening to someone else. Here was my beautiful Michael, inviting me—and not Laney—to see a dream-come-true music room, and I just wanted him to go away so I could be with Wes.
Was that okay? I was having trouble keeping up with myself.
How would my mother have written this part? Would she have seen the good in the “bad boy” and twisted the plot?
Dammit.
Stop thinking, Liz.
“Where are your parents?” I cleared my throat and shut down my inner thoughts. “I haven’t seen them in, like, a million years.”
“They went to a movie,” Michael said as he took the stairs two at a time. “But my mom would love to see you.”
When we reached the top of the stairs, he led me to a closed door that looked like it belonged to just another bedroom. He pushed it open, and…
“Oh my God.”
The room had a shiny wood floor, and a thick rug sat underneath the baby grand piano that was turned diagonally on one side of the space. He started telling me about reflection, diffusion, and absorption, about how the decorations in the room were strategically placed for better-quality sound, but I couldn’t listen to him.
That piano was so beautiful. I walked over and sat down on the bench. I wanted to play it—badly—but clearly this was a big deal to his dad, and I was a chump player. Wes liked to act like I was good because I was the only person our age who still took lessons once a week, but I was decent at best.
I loved the piano, though. I loved it so much. I was sure my mom’s obsession with the instrument had something to do with it, but there was also nothing quite like closing my eyes and just losing myself in a song I’d played a hundred times before, tweaking the tempo and passion and listening to see if I could hear the minute differences I’d attempted to create.
