Page 148 of Of Heartbreak and Harmony
He grins at me as we stand in the hallway, and prickles of excitement start to tease my arms and legs.
“What did you do?” I ask slowly, and he nods toward the end of the hallway.
“Go see.”
I wait only a moment before I brush past him and walk around the corner, and the moment the large room comes into view, I freeze with my mouth gaping.
“Do you like it?”
I can’t even look at him. I’m still too busy staring at the grand piano in the middle of the room. It’s a Steinway, and it’s gorgeous. I fist my hands at my sides. I bet the keys would be a dream under my fingers. Smooth and cool and perfect. My toes flex in my sneakers, imagining pressing those solid brass pedals. The concert piano I played at Barnum Hall was nowhere near this nice. I’ve never even been in the same room as a piano this nice. I feel like I’m standing feet away from royalty, and I don’t know how to act.
Torren steps up next to me. “Are you going to play it?”
My jaw drops. “I can’t play that! It’s, like, one-hundred-thousand dollars, easy.”
He smirks. “I paid one-twenty, actually.”
A squeak escapes me, my eyes probably as big as frisbees. “You don’t even play!”
“Yeah, but you do.”
I blink. My brows slant and my forehead creases as his words sink in, and then I gasp. “What?”
“I got it for you.”
“What? Why? When?”
He shrugs. “The day after I heard you play on the roof.”
I stare at him, speechless, and suddenly his smile slips. He shifts his weight from foot to foot and runs his hands through his thick, black hair.
“This is too much, isn’t it?”
I blink again, I huff a laugh, but I still can’t speak. Not yet.
“I’ve overwhelmed you. I’m sorry.”
The remorse in his voice helps me find my own, and I swallow, shaking my head.
“No...it’s just...you didn’t even like me then. We’d argued hours before that. And then, just because you heard me playing Beethovenone time, you decide to drop a hundred grand on a piano? That’s bananas.”
“One hundred and twenty.”
“Torren.”
“Calla Lily.”
He steps forward, self-assured smile returning to his full lips, and closes the distance between us. He rubs his thumb over my lower lip before notching his finger under my chin and gently closing my gaping mouth.
“Just play it for me, please.” He smirks. “Don’t make it a waste of a hundred and twenty grand.”
I groan, an irritated laugh escaping my throat as I roll my eyes. “You’re dumb.”
“So, you said. Now play. Please. You know you want to.”
He’s right. I want to. Ireallywant to.
I scowl at him, though there’s no heat behind it, then walk to the piano bench and sit down. I rub my sweaty palms on my jeans, then open and close my fists to stretch my fingers. I breathe in and out. Then slowly, I move my hands to the keys, and I have to suppress a shiver as my fingertips barely graze the surface.
