Page 5 of Heart Strings

“I realized that I never said goodbye.” He stood up as I approached.

“So…you waited two hours to say goodbye?”

“Well… no. I waited because I was enjoying our conversation and we got interrupted. Would you like to talk a little longer?”

No,I started to say instinctively. A list of all the things I needed to do tomorrow scrolled through my brain: practice those pieces for my audition, study for Music History, work here again tomorrow night... “The bar is closed.” I gave a nervous little laugh, suddenly unsure if Alejandro was even being serious. “Where would we talk?”

“In my limo, of course. It’s out back.”

Of course. In your limousine. Why didn’t I think of that?Suddenly, I was back at the sorority house, watching Zoe pull away in her father’s limo and feeling a bit jealous. Here was a chance to sit in a limo of my own and talk to this gorgeous Spanish rockstar - a chance to have some of the fun I had stood at the sidelines and watched everyone else having lately. “Sure. I’d like that. Just not too late? I’m a university student, and I have some studying to do tomorrow.”

“Really? Which university do you go to?”

And that was how it started. As I followed Alejandro around to the back of the building and into the spacious limo, I told him I went to Tulane. The cushioned leather of the sideways-facing seats hugged slightly sore shoulders that told me my posture hadn’t been quite correct throughout my hours of playing, and I let the discomfort seep out of me as I asked a question of my own.

Had Alejandro gone to college? No, he hadn’t, but he had played piano under some of the greatest teachers in the business, even going as far as New York City to work with a private tutor. Did he live in NYC? No, he lived in Miami, actually, to stay close to his “mamá and papá”.

He asked some questions of his own, too. Where did I want to play piano? In the Louisiana Philharmonic Orchestra, for which I already had an audition lined up. So, after college, I wanted to live in Louisiana? Actually, I was looking forward to the traveling part of being with the orchestra, since I hadn’t seen much of the United States, let alone the world.

Of course, that sparked a whole new series of topics because Alejandro had been all over the world on tour. He told me stories about the different cities Vaporized had played in, and I told him stories about my family and my life growing up.

“Call me Al,” he told me after I used his full name. “Everyone does.”

“Okay…Al.” Before he could turn that expectant look into a request for me to shorten my name, I asked another question. “Where are you going next on your tour?” I wasn’t really sure why, but all my life, Abigail had been the only name I went by to almost everyone. I had met plenty of other Abigails who went by Abby all the time and introduced themselves as Abby, but that version of my name was only for my parents, two sisters and very, very close friends to use.

We kept talking. And talking. And talking. And then, we talked some more, me sitting against the left side of the limo and Al sitting against the right side, laughing, joking and learning about each other.

Slowly, things began to push their way through the barrier I had erected to block out anything but the handsome, animated man in front of me. Things like a weight that dragged at my eyelids, pulling them down occasionally no matter how much I blinked them, things like the tinted windows of the limo, glass that had been pitch black for so long but was now a sort of darkish red color.

And then, it hit me - very literally, a sunbeam streaked through the window behind Al. I rubbed sleep and sunlight out of my eyes, then made eye contact with him with my hands still half over my face. “We’ve talked all night.”

Al leaned to the left and forward to block the pesky sun for me. “Sí. We did.” His voice reflected my surprise and confusion.

“...Whoops.” I felt giddy and a little off-balance, like I’d just taken a couple of shots.Shots of Al.The thought tickled me into a bout of giggles that had me bending over, clutching my stomach under Al’s nonplussed gaze.

For a second, I leaned over gasping as I struggled to contain myself. Then I sat up - to find Al’s intense brown eyes inches away from mine, the twin pools of chocolate were all I could see as the bright morning sun haloed his head. The result was that I both expected it and also didn’t expect it at all when he reached his hands around my waist and pulled me forward into a kiss.

This was no soft, tentative, is-what-I’m-doing-okay kiss. This was a deep, almost rough, I’m-not-waiting-to-do-this-anymore sort of kiss. One that I couldn’t have pulled away from if I tried because of the two brawny arms holding me in place.

Not that I wanted to pull away. I would have been lying if I had told myself I didn’t want this to happen.

But Al broke the embrace all too soon, eyeing a delivery truck as it pulled up to the building’s unloading zone nearby. “I should get you home. Where can I take you?”

“Uh-” A handful of seconds passed while I pressed a few stray hairs back in place and tried to avoid lighting up my freckles with a vivid blush.

“Okay,” he said when I gave him the address of the sorority house. “I’ll tell the driver.” He popped his head back into the limo after he got out. “Oh, and I’ll get your phone number on the way.”

“O-okay,” I stammered, but he was already gone, walking to the front of the car. Somehow, this man struck me as someone who was used to getting what he wanted…and if that was my phone number, I definitely wouldn’t argue.

I had talked all night with Al Devera after playing a duet with him. And now he wanted my number.

Guess I wasn’t the only one who would be showing up to the KOE house in a limo after all.

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