Chapter 26 #2
It’s Raven in the bath, her black hair piled on top of her head that’s leaning back against the white porcelain tub.
Her eyes are closed, and her beautiful, delicate neck is elongated.
The drool-worthy tops of her breasts are swallowed up by bubbles, keeping her pink nipples from view. She’s a tastefully erotic tease.
“I’m having this blown up and framed. Maybe done in black and white because that would be stunning. You are a goddess. Can I come down there? Read to you in person?” Maybe make you come in the bath and then spend the rest of the night inside you?
“You want to read romance to me while I take a bubble bath?” she deadpans as if she’s not sure what to do with that.
“Yes, but only because it makes me more of a man and not less of one. It’s not like I’m reading a Shakespearean sonnet or anything. We can call it smut if that makes it less romantic for you.”
“If you bring flowers or chocolates, I’m going to drown you in the tub. And then eat the chocolates because chocolate is my favorite and I think this joint gave me a small case of the munchies.”
“Is that your threatening way of saying yes? And getting me to run out and buy you chocolate?”
She doesn’t respond, to the point where I pull the phone away from my ear to see if she’s still there.
“How about this?” I venture. “You tell me the code for your front door. That way you don’t have to get out of the bath, and you don’t have to say yes or no.”
More silence and then, “It’s 1-2-3-4-5.”
“Are you fucking kidding me with that? 1-2-3-4-5?”
“It was good enough for Spaceballs. Come on, Spaceballs is a riff on Star Wars.”
Jesus. This woman. “I know it’s a riff on Star Wars.
I’ve only watched it ten thousand times.
But we’re changing that code to something less obvious,” I tell her as I scoop up my e-reader from the sofa and jog into my kitchen, opening up cabinet after cabinet until I find what I’m looking for—the stash of candy I keep here for Stella—and then I’m out the door before she can change her mind.
“It’s not obvious because no one other than an idiot would pick it.”
“You’re not an idiot, Raven.”
She puffs into the phone. “No, I’m a genius. It’s not obvious because it’s so obvious.”
She might have a point with that.
“Still, I don’t like it.” The elevator dings and I step on, punching in the code for her floor. “I’m not hanging up unless we get disconnected.”
“I’m nervous.”
“About me coming over?”
“About my two solos. For the holiday show. The holiday show is big time, and my solos are five minutes long, Luca. I’m one of six people who got solos, the only one who got two. That’s it.”
“I’m not understanding,” I admit.
“I… I have a history of stage fright. Performance anxiety. Whatever you want to call it.”
I stand here, staring at the metal doors, shocked out of my mind. “Since when?”
“Since I started at The Conservatory, and it was kill or be killed and everyone there was so talented. I don’t know. My self-confidence was in the toilet and all of it combined started this.”
“Baby…” I’m at a loss. “What can I do to help?” Because I feel like a large part of that is my fault.
“I worked at it, and it was so much better, it was nearly gone. Something about moving back here and starting with the symphony triggered some of it again, I guess. I know it’s nonsensical.
I know I’m talented and worthy. Now it’s more like something that’s ingrained in me.
I can’t help it. My body just reacts now every time the spotlight falls on me. ”
“Wow. I…”
“The bath and the joint are helping. It just feels like a lot so soon into starting with the orchestra, is all. I’ll battle through it and hopefully in a few months, it’ll fade away like it did before.”
Raven is a big name in her industry for such a young woman. Probably because she is such a young woman. She’s a savant. No kidding around. I wasn’t lying about the once in a hundred-year talent.
“Does anyone else know?”
“Nooo. No one else knows.”
“Thank you for telling me. For trusting me with that.” I’m smiling while I ball up my fists. It’s a strange mix of emotions, to say the least. Then again twisted emotions seem to be my thing with her.
“Mmmm.”
The elevator door opens, and I speed walk down the hall.
“Raven… I think you’re amazing and I’m so insanely proud of you for earning those solos. I just don’t see how it’s possible someone like you has a fear of playing for others. Tell me so I understand.”
I shift my phone till it’s wedged between my ear and my shoulder and then I punch in her stupid ass code. The keypad beeps and lights up to green, the lock disengaging loudly.
“God, you’re really here.” She laughs the words. “I might need to rethink this.”
“Too late,” I tell her as I hit end on my phone and enter her bathroom that’s only illuminated by the soft glow of candles.
Raven is in the tub, covered with and surrounded by white suds, her face, neck, and upper chest the only parts of her that are visible, but man.
She’s flushed and wet and oh so naked beneath.
I take her phone from her hand, set it down on the shelf by the head of the tub, grab a stool from the corner, and park myself beside her. Her guarded expression has me not kissing or even touching her.
“Tell me why you’re anxious about performing a solo.”
I set the Snickers and the e-reader on the floor and drop my forearms onto the rim of the large tub.
It’s warm in here, the lavender fragranced air balmy, and I slide up sleeves before dropping my face onto my arms so I’m closer to her.
She still hasn’t answered me and I’m not sure she will, so I take over for her.
“You’re one of two people who know the extent of the dark thoughts I had after I woke up in the ICU after I had been in a medically induced coma and intubated for five days only to subsequently be told that I might have permanent nerve and muscular damage and never operate again.”
“And look at you now.”
I grin at her, reaching out and brushing a few wet strands stuck to her forehead back. “And look at you now. That first night I watched you playing, it was as natural to you as breathing. Even if it stole mine. I never expected you to tell me how anxious playing in front of an audience makes you.”
“Because it’s not something I can tell people. You’re a doctor. You know what that kind of pressure to be perfect is like.”
“I think people would find you inspiring, but I get what you’re saying. You mentioned you did something that helped?”
“Yeah. It’s why I started taking psych classes in London. I told my friends and professors there I was interested in music therapy and wanted a backup plan, and part of that was true, but I was also there as a way to help self-diagnose and treat myself. I also did therapy once a week.”
“Sneaky woman. It helped?”
“Absolutely. I gained techniques for how to deal with it. Visualizations, deep breathing, pep talks, things like that. I’ve restarted all that now that it resurfaced, and it does help. I just hate that it’s something I’m battling again.”
“You never fail to leave me in awe.”
She rolls her eyes at me, taking a handful of bubbles and blowing some of them at my face. I swat them away, doing the same back to her, causing the water to slosh around the tub.
“I’m serious, you little brat. You’ve never been afraid of tackling something others would run from. So I already know you won’t do that now with these five-minute solos either.”
“No. I won’t. It’s not the woman my mother and father raised me to be.” Her fingers reach out, running down my cheek, painting me with water. “Are you really going to read a romance novel to me?”
“I was planning on it.”
“What about dinner tonight at the compound?” Her teeth sink into her lip as she dips down lower, the water now coming up to her chin. Vulnerability and uncertainty play across her features, and I wonder if it’s because she wants me to go or she wants me to stay.
But she gave me the code to her door. She sent me that picture of herself right here, naked in the tub. She told me about her performance anxiety. She’s such a beautiful paradox, she never fails to challenge me while keeping me on my toes.
“Can I stay here instead? Have dinner with you?” I’d stay forever if she’d let me.
“I don’t want to upset your mom.”
My fingers glide down her face, across her cheek, retracting her lip from her teeth. “I’ll tell her I’m with you—”
“No,” she interjects sharply, so bothered by that, she practically leaps from the tub, not even caring that I can now see her breasts. “Don’t do that. It’s too soon. I don’t want anyone to know, Luca. Hell, I don’t even know what we’re doing and—”
I pinch her lips closed with my fingers, shushing her and pushing her back down into the tub. “I won’t tell them I’m with you. I’ll just tell them something came up.” Even though I frown as I say that. “So can I stay?”
“Start reading and we’ll see how it goes.”