Chapter 9
NINE
ETHAN
The next two weeks were almost too good to be true. I’d finally found a place to play whatever I wanted for as long as I wanted. And I’d also found the world’s best audience. And the fact that the audience was as cute and snarky as Collette was only made my new normal that much better.
I sat in the studio with Collette one afternoon, trying to still my nerves. I could feel Collette’s gaze on me. Why I thought playing her a new song I’d been playing around with was a good idea, I’d never know. She was going to hate what I did. I was sure of it.
The sounds of my last chord still lingered in the air when I lifted my head. “So?” I asked. “What do you think?”
She was sitting on the ground before me, leaning against the floor-to-ceiling mirror, her legs stretched out before her. Her expression was thoughtful and slightly dazed.
I loved this look. It was the look she got every time I played for her, like she was lost to the music, her mind somewhere else. Somewhere beautiful.
I would have given anything to know what she was thinking about when I played.
She tilted her head to the side like she was considering my question.
This was another thing I loved about our ‘private sessions,’ as we’d started calling them.
When it came to music and dance, she never gave flippant answers.
She was snarky and sarcastic about almost everything else, but when it came to the arts, she was totally sincere.
“I liked it,” she said slowly. “I love the way you slowed it down and made it your own. I’ve heard that song a million times on the radio and never realized the melody was so beautiful.”
My chest swelled with happiness at the compliment and I had to smother a goofy grin. “Thanks.”
She shifted, coming to her feet. “I think my favorite is still the Coldplay song. Will you play that one next?”
“Sure.” I knew which one she meant. Fix You. I’d played that for her the second time we’d met up and I’d looked up from my guitar to find her sitting there with tears in her eyes. I kept my head down as I strummed the first few notes.
I wouldn’t be able to make it through to the end of the song if I saw her cry again. Seeing her sad had nearly killed me, and it had taken everything in me not to pull her into my arms.
In fact, it was getting harder and harder not to hold her, touch her…kiss her like I wanted to. Touching her while dancing was one thing. Showing her how I had begun to feel was something completely different.
My fingers fumbled on the strings and I shoved that thought away.
This was our fourth private session over the last two weeks, and each one had been better than the last. It seemed, the more comfortable we were with each other, the better we were able to perform.
But it was a catch twenty two. The more I was with her, the more relaxed I’d become which made it harder to keep from acting on these pesky feelings that had decided to show up and not leave me alone.
I wanted to kiss her. There was no doubt in my mind about that—but I was pretty sure I’d missed my moment.
Like, back when we’d first met maybe I could have gotten away with that—I could have laughed it off if she’d rejected me.
I could have just apologized for misreading the situation and moved on. But now?
Now we were friends.
And I was pretty sure my current address was the friend zone.
I lifted my head as I started to sing the chorus—badly, no doubt, since it was way too high for me—and then I stopped.
She was dancing. To my music.
And she was stunning.
My heart seemed to trip over itself like it was trying to keep pace with her rapid footwork. Luckily, I knew this song by heart because my fingers plucked the strings by rote as I watched her move.
So graceful. Her body was perfection, and it was made to dance.
I didn’t know how she didn’t see that. More importantly, I couldn’t fathom how her mother didn’t see it. Collette was liquid energy, all flowing movements and supple grace.
My mouth was dry and my heart was hammering…I couldn’t look away from her, not even when the final chord had long since died off, leaving us in silence.
She’d come to a stop with her back to me.
“That was beautiful,” I said, hoping she could hear my sincerity. Hoping she could hear everything I couldn’t bring myself to say.
“I was just goofing off.” Her voice was little more than a murmur. Like she was embarrassed or something. Which was irritating. I hated that she was so humble. It was getting annoying.
I’d never seen her move like that before.
Like she was a part of the music, or the music was inside of her.
It had been a thing of beauty, and I was blown away because…
because I’d been a part of it. My music and her dancing had been intertwined, making something that was bigger than both of us, and that? That was mind blowing.
“Was that your own choreography?” I just wanted her to turn, to talk to me, to tell me that she felt it too. I wanted to see her eyes. Feel her stare on my face. It had been real and I wanted to share it with her on a deeper level.
“No,” she said, her voice louder than before as she reached for a hoodie. “That was Coldplay’s choreography.” She turned toward me with a smirk. “Chris Martin does that every night on stage.”
“Funny,” I said. But I let it drop. Her sarcasm would have been a dead giveaway that she was uncomfortable with my praise, even if her cheeks weren’t turning pink. I couldn’t understand why she never just took the praise. I meant it. All of it.
“So,” she said, her tone brisk. “When are you going to play your own songs for me?”
I let out an exasperated huff of amusement. “I told you. Ryan’s the songwriter.” I shrugged. “I just like to play.”
She leaned against the mirror as she studied me. “Okay then, when am I going to hear Ryan’s songs?”
I stood up, holding my guitar by its neck as I walked toward her and the case that was right next to her. My heart was beating so hard I could hear it. “Yeah, well…” I took a deep breath. “I actually wanted to talk to you about that.”
She tilted her head to the side and wrapped the hoodie around herself in a now-familiar gesture.
I thought about saying something, but then fought the urge.
I’d said things before and she just laughed it off.
It was frustrating, the fact that my thoughts were brushed off so quickly.
But I was learning with Collette, she didn’t like to be pushed and I could respect that. For now.
I decided to focus on laying my guitar down in its case.
I cleared my throat, trying not to overthink what I was about to talk to her about.
I mean, she’d heard me play a million times now, seeing me on stage wasn’t that big a deal.
It wasn’t like I was asking her on a real date or anything.
“Ryan’s band is performing at The Tailgate next week. Thursday night, actually.”
She watched me steadily. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, and, uh…his guitarist can’t make it. He’s going to be out of town with his family, so, um…” I swallowed. Crap, why was this so hard to spit out. “So I’m going to stand in for him.”
Her smile was slow and brilliant. “That’s awesome, Ethan.”
“Yeah, thanks.” Just spit it out. “I was wondering if maybe you’d maybe want to go. And you know…watch.”
I wouldn’t have thought it was possible for her smile to get any bigger. But it was. And it did.
She shocked the life out of me by dropping her arms and launching toward me to give me a hug.
I stood frozen for a second as her arms wrapped around my waist. I looked down at the top of her head in stunned silence as she squeezed me tight. I shook off the shock and wrapped my arms around her too, returning the hug.
“I am so excited for you,” she gushed, her face pressed against my shoulder and her hair tickling my nose. I tried not to notice the feel of her curves pressed against me, or how good she felt in my arms. I’d held her countless times now as part of her dance routine, but never like this.
She pulled back slightly to look up at me. “And I’m so glad you finally told me.”
I blinked stupidly as her words registered. It wasn’t until she took a step back that I was able to form words. “You knew?”
She gave me an impish grin. “Tilly might have said something.”
I arched my brows in question. Tilly was the dancer assigned to help Ryan catch up on the basics of ballet, but I wasn’t sure how she knew anything about our upcoming gig.
“I guess Ryan bragged to Tilly about the concert and how you were stepping in.” She shifted, waving a hand in the air like the rest was obvious. “She told Eve and Eve told me and…” She sighed. “You know how ballerinas are. They’re the worst gossips.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t know that, actually, but, uh…why didn’t you say anything?”
She shrugged. “I figured if you wanted me to know, you’d tell me.”
“So?” I asked. “Will you come?”
“Of course!”
Any flicker of hope I might have felt that maybe this would be our first date was killed quick when she smacked my shoulder in a decidedly friendly manner. “I wouldn’t miss my practice buddy’s big debut.”
I forced a smile. Practice buddy. Right.
Awesome.
“Will your mom be cool with it?” I asked.
“If I tell her it’s an outing that involves the great Ethan Morrison?” She arched her brows. “She’ll probably offer to drive me herself.”
I grinned. It had become something of a joke between us, how much her mom loved me. Not that I was such a great dancer or anything—I definitely wasn’t. But once her mom got wind that I was the mayor’s son? The term ‘teacher’s pet’ may or may not have become my new nickname in class.
“You’re not really going to tell her though, right?” I winced because I knew the answer but I still had to ask.
She rolled her eyes. “No, of course not.” She dropped her voice two octaves and donned a terrible mob boss voice as she added, “I keep your secrets, you keep mine, right?”
I laughed as I shook my head. “You’re ridiculous.”