20
Huxley
I’m not focusing on the notes I’m playing. All I want is to not think about what happened yesterday. When the girl I’ve been dying to kiss ran away from me.
I thought she was ready. I thought we were finally at a point where she felt comfortable with me. At least enough to let me kiss her. But I guess not.
I didn’t go to her classes today. That’s pretty fucking petty, I know, but this time, I’m not the one who messed up. Not that she really messed up. She’s just scared. Or maybe she doesn’t want to kiss me.
My finger slips on the note, sending out an irritating sound through the classroom.
“Fuck.” I adjust the guitar on my leg and fall back into my mindless playing. Mindless enough that all I can think about is how it’s possible that Val doesn’t want to kiss me.
I wish I understood her fear, but I honestly don’t. Maybe it’s because I had my first kiss at the age of twelve and just never stopped. But kissing never was that big of a deal for me. Her fearing it, though, makes me wonder if it should mean something more.
The door pushes open, but I keep playing. If it’s Owen, he’ll speak up soon. If it’s Val, I can’t be the first one to speak. She ran away; she has to speak first. The steps are light as they round the corner, but they stop.
Valentine.
I wait for her to say something, but she just stands there. Maybe she didn’t think I heard her come in. I stop playing and wait.
“That sounds nice,” she says quietly. I can hear her smiling, and all I want to do is look at her. But I can’t. Not until she explains herself.
I shift in my seat and rearrange the guitar. “Thanks.” My fingers immediately start playing again, unable to handle the heaviness between us.
“Could you teach me how to play?” she asks hopefully. “I would ask Professor Owen, but he’s a bit tough.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch her rubbing her left wrist. Something I’ve seen her do a few times before when she’s uncomfortable. Not exactly the action I want to see her doing right now.
I barely nod while I keep playing. “Sure.”
She nods a few times, even though I’m sure she doesn’t know I can see her. “Okay.” Her voice cracks, and I nearly fumble on another note. “Well, I’ll just leave you to it.”
Fucking damnit, Valentina.
I stop playing and turn to her as she starts to leave the room. “Why did you run away yesterday?”
She turns around quickly, her eyes wide that I’m now looking at her. “What?”
“You said you had a thing, right?” My voice is bitter, but it might be the only way I get the truth out of her. “So what was it for?”
She barely shakes her head. “Huxley—”
“What was your thing, Valentina?” My voice heightens with irritation. I don’t want to be mad at her, but I can’t take another lie. If she doesn’t want to kiss me, she needs to just say it. Spare us both and end this before my heart completely shatters.
Her eyes fall to the floor, blinking quickly, and my heart shatters anyway.
“Val?”
She lifts her head, letting tears roll down her cheeks.
I’m a fucking asshole.
I nearly drop my guitar to get to her, my hands catching her face to wipe away her tears as fast as I can. “Baby, what’s wrong?” I continue to clean her face as more tears fall, and she just stares at me. “Talk to me,” I beg.
Her lip trembles before she chokes out, “I’m scared.” And I just determined that I never want to hear her say those words ever again.
“Why?” Because I have no idea how we got here. How could I have been so blind to her fears in all of this?
“Because I don’t think I’ll be good at anything relationship-related that we do.”
A breath of relief leaves me. Oh, my sweet girl.
I brush some of her hair back. “I’m doing all of this for the first time, too, Love.”
She shakes her head. “You’ve kissed someone before, though. That’s something that people do when they're 13. I’m 21 and still haven’t done it.”
My thumb gently strokes over her cheek, which is thankfully dry of tears. “There is nothing wrong with not having your first kiss yet,” I assure her. “You’re still young.”
“I’m legally able to drink, but I’ve never kissed anyone. That’s a problem.”
Being legal doesn’t mean anything.
I sigh and tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Have you ever drank before?”
She hesitates. “No.”
“Then it doesn’t matter if you’re legal or not. And even if you did have your first drink, it still doesn’t matter because you’re just doing life at your own pace.”
She frowns, but it turns into a pout which is too fucking adorable. “I hate my pace.”
“You want me to kiss you now?” I say without thinking. She shifts on her feet, so I slip my hand into her hair so she can’t pull away from me. “Exactly. You’re not ready. And that’s okay.”
She stares up at me, and her eyes start to water again. I pull her into my chest before I can watch those tears slip through. She reaches up between us and pulls on my shirt, bringing us closer together.
I love when she does that. It makes me feel like I’m a safe space for her. Like she’d rather be closer to me than apart. And that feeling is one I don’t know if I’ll ever get again. When she leaves me after graduation, she’ll take that feeling with her. Never to be used on anyone other than her.
“Come on.” I take one of her hands and lead her over to the center of the room.
She sits down as I pick up my discarded guitar and move to stand behind her.
When I put my arms around her to place the guitar on her legs, she pulls in a deep breath, pushing her chest forward, but I don’t look.
She isn’t even ready to be kissed yet, so I don’t deserve to stare at her body.
“Put this hand here.” I grab her right hand, and she lets me guide her arm around the guitar.
Her fingers fall delicately on the strings, causing the faintest sound to emit from them.
“And this one here.” Her left hand moves to the neck of the guitar on its own, but I cover her hand with mine to find a specific note.
“Keep these fingers here,” I whisper next to her ear as I cover her right hand with my own. “And strum with this hand.” We strum the note together once, then I lift my hand off hers. “You try.”
She glances at her fingers on the neck of the guitar to make sure they're still in place before she gently strums the note.
I smile at her soft movements. “Good.” I move our left hands together to change the note. “Try that one.”
She strums again with a little more confidence, and I can practically feel her excitement radiating off of her. “Perfect.”
She turns to look up at me, her smile blinding. “I’m a rockstar now, aren’t I?”
“Absolutely, Love.” My little rockstar.
Her eyes fall back to our hands still connected on the neck of the guitar, and I can see her mind working. My right hand caresses her shoulder, telling her it’s okay.
“I’m sorry about leaving yesterday,” she says quietly. And even though I was waiting for her to say that, now it feels pointless. And I feel like shit for getting mad at her in the first place.
“It’s alright.” I run my hand up her neck and into her hair. “You’re not ready. And I shouldn’t push you to be. No matter how much I want to kiss you.” Her wide eyes fly back up to mine. “But I’ll wait.”
As long as you need, Valentina Demarco. I will wait for you.
She moves the guitar off her legs and turns more towards me. “I want to play something for you.”
Really? “Why?”
“To apologize.”
I shake my head. “You don’t have to do that.” Especially since she already apologized. Plus, I made her cry again. So if anything, I should be apologizing to her.
She lifts the guitar to me. “I want to.” Well, I can’t say no to that.
I take the guitar from her, and she makes her way over to the piano. She ties her hair back from her face, the same way she did Freshman year. Something about that makes me think she was classically trained.
I don’t know why, but that makes my chest stutter a bit. Knowing she’s using this instrument that she grew up learning because it’s something that connects us.
“Okay,” she whispers to herself.
A smile lifts on my face.
Adorable.
And then she closes her eyes and starts to play.
Even though I’ve only heard Valentina sing twice before, I’m always blown away by how much emotion she puts into her performance. You can literally see it on her face, and her… Holy shit.
Holy fucking shit, this girl is a powerhouse. How has she never sung before but has this much power inside of her? The breath control, the details in her tone, it’s unbelievable.
There’s talent, and then there’s Valentina Demarco. Holy fuck, I think I just fell in love all over again.
The lyrics pour out of her as if she wrote them, her body shaking with the overwhelming power of it all. I’ve never witnessed something so beautiful, so captivating.
And in a strange turn of events, I hope she doesn’t sing too many times in front of me. Because I’ll never be able to hear those songs again without hearing her.
The song ends, and she finally opens her eyes again, breathing heavily from the performance she just gave. She looks up at me, almost in shock that she did that, but I can see the hint of excitement there, too.
“God, you’re so amazing,” I breathe out. “And I didn’t even have to force you to sing this time.”
She softly smiles. “Yeah, well, for some reason, you like my voice. And since you’re my audience of one, I figured it was the best way to apologize.”
As much as I want to stay her audience of one, there’s no way this girl gets to stay in the shadows. She’s too damn talented to keep this hidden. But I’ll work on that later. “I couldn’t agree more.”
She looks back at the keys, playing a few random notes. “Have you ever been in love?” Her eyes come back to mine as if she didn’t just ask the biggest question in the world.
“Define being in love,” I manage to say.
She frowns. “Is there more than one definition?”
I move around the piano to get closer to her, shrugging. “I guess it depends on how you view love. Some people say it so often that the meaning is lost. Some people don’t say it at all, and they might not hold any meaning to the word.”
She nods as I sit next to her. “Well, where do you stand?”
I stare forward, trying to piece some thoughts together. Where do I stand? I’ve never technically been in a relationship before to say it enough for the words to lose meaning.
Sure, I’ve probably said them to my mother before, but I’ve never overused the words. I’ve also never underused the words.
Valentina watches me patiently while all I can think about is whether or not she’s been in love before.
Has she said those words to someone else? I’d have to think not, since she’s never been in a relationship either. But you can be in love without being in a relationship. I know. I’ve been since Freshman year.
I finally bring myself to look at her. “Why are you asking about this?”
She shrugs and looks down at the keys. “I guess I was thinking about how I just sang again in front of you. And then I thought about you singing and how you sing with emotion that can’t be faked.”
“So do you.” She looks at me quickly, and a new air settles around us. One that makes me not want to look away from her.
“I’ve loved and lost before,” she says softly. “Those emotions I know.”
“But you’ve never been in love before,” I emphasize.
“Have you?” Her throat scratches on the question, even though she’s already asked me.
I weakly smile at her, though I know it’s unconvincing. “Don’t ask stupid questions, Love. You’re smarter than that.”
I turn my attention to the keys in front of me, staring at them as if they’ll magically start playing themselves. Why did she have to bring up love? And why am I not better at hiding how all this affects me?
Slowly, Val lifts her hand, reaching towards me. She stops a few inches from me, her eyes moving to mine as she holds her position, frozen until I give her permission to move again.
I softly smile, and her hand moves forward. Her fingers work through my hair slowly.
Is she doing this to make me feel better after our heavier conversation, or does this mean something else?
I can’t be too delusional and think this means she has actual feelings for me, but it feels damn good just the same.
She suddenly pulls away and turns toward the keys. Whatever her actions meant, they made her nervous, and that brings a smile to my face.
I turn toward the piano as well and start to play a simple melody. “If I’m teaching you how to play the guitar, can you teach me how to play the piano?”
She looks from my hands to my face. “You already know how to play, though.”
“Not the way you do.”
She tries to hide her smile. “You mean like this.” She quickly plays something elaborate, her fingers flying over the keys and producing a beautiful melody.
I shrug. “Easy.” Then I slam my hands over the keys.
“Oh my god! Stop!” she laughs, reaching to pull my hands from the instrument. When we connect, I intertwine our fingers. Her laughter fades out as we look at each other, and everything feels right. Except I need her closer.
I lean forward, tipping my head so my forehead rests against hers.
This.
This moment right here means more to me than if I were to kiss her.
Because she’s close to me, holding my hand.
We’re just here together.
No pressure.
Like we have all our lives to waste.
“For now,” I whisper.
She grips my hand tighter. “For now.”