Chapter Forty-One
Grif
V erity twirled her pasta on a fork. “This restaurant is adorable. You and Dean would come here when you were at BosTec?”
“Yes. This is where we’d go when we wanted to be fancy. Otherwise, it was the pizza place, the bar with the cheap food, the noodle shop, or the taco stand,” I told her, taking a sip of my drink. “Or we’d just go to his mom’s. Sometimes we’d bug Sissy at the diner she worked at, though it was across town.”
Dimillos had a nice ambience, with candles on the tables and Italian farm decor. It wasn’t much more expensive than the pizza place and walkable from campus.
We hadn’t gone unnoticed. Some students were having a brisk conversation about whether or not they should interrupt us since we were clearly on a date.
More pictures for the internet, I was sure. Sissy kept sending them to me. Someone asked Dean about Verity in his last post-game interview and he made a nearly pornographic joke about eating cake pops.
Dean would be jealous when he discovered that we were in Boston. While I should’ve invited them along, I felt selfish today.
Excitement danced through me. An evening of music with Verity at my side? Perfect.
Was Professor Dublonski still conducting the orchestra? I’d like to see her. My music professors at BosTec believed in me as much as my hockey coaches.
Not that I always felt like I deserved the nickname Griffin the Music Magician.
“Thanks for showing me your greenhouse. Are you weaponizing happiness?” Lowering my voice, I leaned in. I didn’t know what else you’d do with happy flowers but harness their essence and turn it into bombs to diffuse protests or wars or something.
“While I’ve thought about public space usage, it’s not my specific intention,” she replied. “I want to make people happy. Make homes happy.”
“Got it.” Because she grew up in a volatile home. It could be why she and Jonas resonated–his home was shitty, too.
“Dr. Winters believes in my research. Many people don’t. But he’s been encouraging me since I was eleven.” She took another bite and dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin.
“Really?” I took a bite of my dinner. I knew he meant a lot to her, considering she’d changed universities to continue working with him. Well, and to make sure Mercy got to live her dream.
“I used to sneak into his class when I was in middle school. I was around a lot given I have professors for parents. At first, Dr. Winters would kick me out of his class, so I’d sit under the window and listen. It was a class on plant mythology. The one I’m teaching next semester.” Her eyes danced with excitement as she took a drink of her soda. “Eventually, he let me sit in. When he found out I’d started growing things in one of the public campus greenhouses, he protected the space. He’d meet with me to discuss my projects and made me feel so grown up.”
“So, it was always plants?” I asked, fascinated by her passion as I twirled more pasta around my fork.
“I’ve been interested in genetically manipulating plants for a long time. At one point, I considered human genetics. Ultimately, plants won.” Her phone rang, and she frowned and answered it. “AJ, is everything okay?”
Why was he calling her? I looked at my phone and saw that I’d missed several calls from him. Whoops.
Them getting along made me happy.
“Oh, yeah. Dare’s concert is tonight. He wanted me to bring Grif anyway, so while it’s sad their game got canceled, it’s fun that it all worked out,” she told him.
Dean
You took her to Dimillo’s without me?
He added several sad emojis. Well, it was only a matter of time since we shared our locations with each other.
Me
We’re going to her brother’s concert and got hungry.
I wasn’t about to apologize for wanting her to myself.
“Here you go. It’s AJ.” Verity handed me her phone.
“Hi,” I said.
“You’re going to the concert where they’re playing your piece?” AJ asked.
I exhaled sharply. “Fuck. I forgot about that.”
While her brother had told me that, I’d just wanted to be with her. Also, I enjoyed going to orchestra concerts. It wasn’t something the guys and I often did, unless it was a fundraiser or I dragged them to a concert in the park for a summer evening picnic.
Verity’s look went concerned.
It’s fine , I mouthed.
“Dean’s practically feral that you’re at BosTec without him. Would it be alright if I came? Not trying to crash your date, but I’ve never heard something you’d written.” Wistfulness colored AJ’s voice.
“I don’t even know which piece it is. Give me a sec to make sure it’s worth your time?” I muted the call. “He wants to know which of my pieces the orchestra is playing tonight.” Taking my phone, I looked up the program.
“That’s why Dare wanted me to bring you? You compose? ” she breathed.
“I wrote some shit for class. AJ would like to join us if the train times work out. While Dean and Jonas have heard my stuff, he hasn’t. Would you be okay with that?” It still baffled me that they’d play something I wrote.
“Only if it’s okay with you. I love having you to myself, but if he wants to hear your song, I understand that. They’re playing your song. How special.” Verity beamed as she finished her food.
I found the program. It was not the piece I’d expected, but sure, he could hear it.
“You’re welcome to come if you can make it on time. We’ll save you a spot.” I ended the call. I looked at Verity. “Warning, it’s one of my, um, experimental pieces, I wrote for my modern composition class.”
Sonatina por ricombi auto. It featured a full orchestra, a stripped car, and a ballet dancer wearing a trash bag.
“I can’t wait.” She licked some sauce off her lips.
We finished our delicious dinner and settled our bill.
She eyed the last breadstick in the basket. “Should I put that in my purse for Dean?”
I nodded. “You absolutely should.”
Verity wrapped it in a napkin and put it in her crossbody bag. She’d changed into nice slacks and a pretty blouse and wore her pretty baby blue coat. I was still in my suit.
As we left, I stopped by the table of students. “Thanks for not interrupting my date. Did you want a selfie or something?”
“Please?” one girl asked.
We took some pictures and then walked to BosTec hand in hand. It was cold and icy, with some snow on the ground.
“Is it weird to be back? Have you been back?” she asked. Darkness had fallen. The campus was lit up with strings of lights as I led her to the music building.
“Dean dragged me for our five-year reunion, which felt strange since I didn’t graduate. But I don’t think most people realize that. Also, once he came out as an omega, he spoke at some omega society stuff,” I replied.
“That’s amazing. My dad ran the omega science club back at Briar. Did you get swept up before graduation?” She squeezed my hand.
Drafted players could get signed outside the free agent window. It wasn’t uncommon for PHL teams to sweep up drafted players at playoffs, since they started right as the collegiate hockey season ended.
“I wasn’t drafted, though Dean was. Um, I couldn’t pass my math class. BosTec requires music majors to take advanced calculus,” I laughed. “Really, I had no business going here. This was the only university we both got selected to play hockey for. I majored in music because I wouldn’t make it in the sciences. I only passed chem thanks to Dean, and even he couldn’t save my calculus grade.”
She gave me a skeptical look. “I know how BosTec applications work since I helped my brother with his. The music department requires an audition and an exam. Dare planned all along to major in music. He hoped if he chose a science school the parents wouldn’t notice.”
“I’m really not that good,” I told her, my breath coming out in frozen puffs, not wanting to talk about it any longer. “No one else is coming to see Dare?”
“Hale’s in finals and Mercy would be here if she didn’t have a game. Dare didn’t tell anyone else.” She shrugged, seeming a little sad.
“We’re here for Dare. We’ll take him out to ice cream. Dean’s parents always took us for ice cream after everything,” I told her. Dare deserved someone to celebrate him. I knew what orchestra he was in and it was no joke.
As we walked, I pointed out the building where Dean had most of his classes, and the library where no one was ever in the stacks, so it was good for fucking. The sports complex was on the opposite side of campus. Dean and I had lived at home for part of university, then his parents got us an apartment.
Entering the music building, which was adjacent to the concert hall, I took a deep breath. A strange, but welcome feeling came over me. I’d forgotten how good it felt here. I showed her the music library and some classrooms.
We entered one of the orchestra rooms, filled with seats, the percussion instruments in the back. A spare set of mallets sat on a table. I picked them up, arranged the four mallets in my fingers like second nature.
“While I’ve played piano since I was a little kid, in the high school and university orchestras I played marimba. It’s the same setup as a piano keyboard, and well, I can read music, so it was easy to pick up,” I explained, going over to one and playing a quick riff.
Wow, that felt amazing . It had been years. I played a few things for her, not missing a few faces in the windows of the doors.
“That is beautiful. I play nothing,” she confessed.
Putting the mallets back, I took her hand and led her to my favorite practice room. It was a little larger than most of them and had a baby grand piano in it.
“I spent a lot of time here. Practicing, composing, studying. I may have fucked Dean in here many times.” I eyed the small window in the door, wondering if there was anything we could cover it with.
“Hence the shrine.” She tugged my hand.
I turned to see a bunch of photos of me on the wall. Playing the marimba, the piano, conducting the orchestra. Underneath, someone had stenciled The Griffin the Music Magician Room for Procrasticing directly on the wall and added doodles and sparkles.
It was quite pretty. The griffin on the wall almost matched my tattoo.
“ Procrasticing? What’s that?” She laughed.
“When you’re practicing, but you’re not practicing what you need to, so you’re both practicing and procrastinating at the same time.” I smiled, remembering those days.
Dean had to memorize body parts. I had to memorize concertos.
“Will you play something for me? It’s amazing that you play. I didn’t see a piano at your place,” she told me, running her manicured hand over the piano.
“AJ helped me pick one out. It’s being delivered next week,” I told her. I’d gone shopping with AJ, not expecting him to buy it for me.
Her face lit up. “Aww, is that a courting gift? You filed your pack paperwork, didn’t you?”
“We did. And,” I considered this. “I... I think it just might be.”
Things between us were great. I made sure to carve out moments for him like I did for Dean and Verity.
“That’s so sweet.” Then her look turned pensive. “I... I’d maybe like to court you at some point. It would have to be after Mercy turns eighteen and signs a new contract with the Maimers. I don’t even know what courting entails.”
“You want to court me?” My heart exploded as I picked her up and set her on the piano, leaning her crutch against it. Wrapping my arms around her, I kissed her deeply.
“I... I can’t buy you a piano, but yes.” Her look went shy. “Griffin the Music Magician, I’m in love with you.”
My heart exploded. She loved me?
“Airplane Girl, I’ll take whatever you can give me. I’m in love with you, too,” I told her. “I’m easy. Keep putting cupcakes in my locker, make me fried chicken, and hold my hand and I’m one happy guy.”
“Done.” She kissed me.
The door burst open, then closed with a giggle and an, “Oops, sorry.”
She broke off our kiss. “We probably don’t have time to fuck because Dare is on the way to find us, but perhaps you could play something for me?”
“Absolutely.” Though a practice room fuck sounded great.
Leaving her on the piano, I sat down and started to play something that had been running through my head. A song that was sweetness and sparkles, cake pops and happy flowers, cozy sweatshirts and cups of tea while sitting in the stands in the ice rink.
“That is fucking amazing. I haven’t heard that piece of yours. Most of what I’ve heard has been for a full orchestra.” Verity’s little brother, Dare, stood there in a suit. His eyeliner was green and matched the bar in his industrial piercing.
“It’s... in progress.” I looked up at Verity. That song was about her.
“You're so good.” She beamed.
“I can’t believe you’re here.” Dare looked giddy. “Come on, Professor Dublonski is waiting. She's so excited you’re here.”
Well, that explained everything. She’d been my biggest fan and even tried to petition the university to waive the math requirement for me after I’d failed three times.
“Dare, can we take you out for ice cream after?” I asked as we left the practice room.
“We’re all going ice skating in the square afterwards. They have a rink set up with lights and music and food. Come with us? You can buy me hot booze instead.” He grinned.
Oh, right. It was that time of year.
I looked at Verity. “Would you like to have some hot booze with me?”
“Sounds great.” She put an arm around me as we walked down the hall.
He led us to a different orchestra room where everyone was warming up. Several students stared at me as we entered. Or it could be Verity. She was a head-turner. I saw one of her ads the other day on a billboard.
“Griffin. Oh my goodness, I’m so happy you’re here.” Professor Dublonski was an elderly omega who believed in everyone. Even some hockey player who just wanted to stay close to his boyfriend.
“I’m excited to be here, Professor. I can’t believe you’re playing my piece.” It was hard to not catch her excitement.
“It’s wonderful you could make it. I called your agent, but as usual you were busy with your wonderful life. What happened? Though it’s such a happy surprise.” Her eyes danced with curiosity.
“Um, they canceled the game. So here I am. I hope it’s okay.” Inside, puzzlement shot through me. She’d called Chet? He hadn’t told me that. Not about tonight. Not ever.
Had they played my pieces before?
“I’m sorry about the game, but it’s great for us.” She beamed and patted my arm.
“Next time, don’t call Chet, call me.” I still didn’t know why they’d play my works. I put my number in her phone. “There you go. Happy to help.”
She beamed, then looked at Verity. “Thank you. Who’s this?”
“My girlfriend Verity, she’s also Dare’s sister.” I noticed Dare had taken his seat and was warming up his cello.
“Hi, Professor!” Verity waved.
“It’s so nice to meet you. Our theme tonight is experimental music. We’re closing with your piece. You’ll do the honors?” she asked me.
It took me a moment. “You want me to conduct my piece?”
“Of course I do.” Professor Dublonski looked at me like I hung the moon.
How could I resist that look? That one like I was worthy and good at something. I often didn’t even feel like that in hockey–and I had a championship ring.
Six years and I still felt like an imposter.
“I’m a little rusty. I don’t do a lot of conducting in the PHL. What if I mess up?” I said quietly, my insides a ball of nerves.
Professor Dublonski gave me a sharp look. “Nonsense.”
“Yes, Professor, I’d love to.” There was no other answer, even though the prospect terrified me.
“If you want to get back into it, I have plenty of friends who’d love you to guest conduct in your off-season. I’d come see you conduct under the stars,” she told me.
“Maybe?” I missed conducting. But would people actually let me?
“That sounds fun. Back home, I’d always take Dare to summer outdoor concerts,” Verity drawled.
“Do you have anything new? You haven’t sent me anything in ages?” Professor Dublonski asked me.
Sometimes, I still composed things. When I finished, I always sent them to her since I didn’t know what else to do with them. I thought back to what I’d been playing in the practice room. “I might. It’s still pretty raw.”
“Wonderful. Let me get them warmed up and go through a few things, then you can give them a test run? I think they’re pretty good, if I do say so myself.” Professor Dublonski grinned at them.
“I'd be honored.” I went to the side of the room with Verity as Professor Dublonski took the podium, and they all quieted.
Immediately, I texted my agent.
Me
BosTec asked me to conduct? Why didn’t you tell me?
Chet
You had a game.
Me
If anyone asks me to conduct or play my pieces, please let me know, even if I have a game.
The fact he’d never told me made anger to slosh around inside me. Why would he do that?
Chet
You actually compose? I thought they were asking for someone else.
Ugh. How hard was it to send a text?
Me
Next time tell me.
“Is everything okay?” Verity squeezed me.
“My agent never told me she called. It’s weird.” I made a face.
“My first sports agent was like that. My contract specifically said any modeling requests went to my modeling agent. Instead of sending them to her, he told them that I didn’t do that. It caused some confusion and hurt feelings. He also did some questionable things, like not telling me about the interest of teams he didn’t like. Or getting weird when I dumped my ex and awakened as an alpha. Ultimately, I fired him, which he didn’t take well. I should’ve cut him loose a lot sooner.” An upset look crossed her face. “But my coach had introduced me, and I felt like I couldn’t.”
“The coach you got fired?” I asked. Wow, that was a shitty situation there.
She nodded. “That agent didn’t like that either. Or me not going pro. He got after me for wasting my talent and said that if I’d re-sign with him, he’d get me back on track.”
How I wished I could fix all that for her. Instead, all I could do was hold her in the corner of the orchestra room.
AJ
I’m here. Where are our seats?
Me
Sorry, I forgot. We’re listening to warm-ups. Save seats for me and Verity?
AJ
Absolutely. Warning: I have stowaways.
Of course they came. My nerves intensified. I turned to Verity. “AJ’s here. I think Dean and Jonas came, too.”
“Well, I suppose I can’t always have you to myself.” She leaned into me.
“Don’t tell them I’m conducting? Make it a surprise?” I asked. She nodded.
The orchestra ran through a couple of spots in my piece. They sounded good.
Finally, Professor Dublonski turned to me. “Ready?”
“If you say so, Professor.” My belly twisted. Please let me do okay.
She turned to the orchestra. “We’re in luck. The Knights game got canceled. So Griffin McGraff will conduct his piece. Please meet Griffin, one of my previous students and former member of this very orchestra.”
“Woah, the Griffin McGraff who wrote this piece is Grif Graf the hockey player?” one violinist asked.
“I didn’t know Griffin the Music Magician played hockey,” a flutist whispered.
“Hockey was his backup plan.” Professor Dublonski chuckled at the old joke. She handed me her baton. “Maestro.”
Taking the baton, it all came back to me. I stepped on the podium and addressed the orchestra. “From the top.”
The rush I usually only felt on the ice sloshed over me. It felt like scoring the winning goal. Like slamming someone against the glass.
As I ran through the piece I wrote, with the orchestra I used to play with, I was no longer an imposter.
I was home.