Chapter 8 Angie
ANGIE
We’ve been walking for longer than I realize.
When I left Brandon’s office, I knew I planned to see if the piano in the district was unoccupied.
To my surprise, it was. And I wanted to see if being out in the open would inspire the music to flow freely.
Luckily, it did. Maybe a walk outside was all I needed to get the creativity flowing.
Maybe it’s because I chose the time toward the end of the workday and I wanted those coming out of buildings to have a soundtrack.
Or it could’ve been seeing him inspired me to play.
If the corporate people were annoyed by my playing interrupting their day, I was none the wiser.
After hours of playing at the piano with my butt going numb and fingers aching from sudden use, I was shocked when I looked up to see he found me.
My heart skipped just a little, and that’s bad because he’s supposed to be off-limits.
It’s not as simple as a boy befriends a girl, they talk, feelings develop, and a relationship begins.
If it were, then I don’t think either of us would hesitate.
Our story is a little more complex than a simple meeting.
“You’re really good,” Brandon says, knocking me out of my thoughts about how the future we think either of us can have is unreachable.
“What?”
“At piano,” he says slowly. “I didn’t know you played so well.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
“Can I ask you something personal?”
Our walk has taken us further and further, so we veer off toward a bench that overlooks the river by one of the many museums in the city.
“Something personal—sure,” I tell him after we’re settled and I set my bag next to me.
“Why are you working in a TapHouse?” He doesn’t ask it in an accusatory way, but it’s the curiosity that coats his words.
“I—they’re my family,” I begin and cross my legs. “When the news broke about the accident, they were there to catch me. I’ve thought of doing other things, but I like what I do. I like the regulars, I like the tourists, and I like staying busy.”
“You’re still in school, right?”
“Yeah. But I have no clue what I want to do with my degree. Or if I even want to use my degree,” I admit sheepishly.
“Let me guess. Teacher?”
“No way. Music performance and business management.” I adjust and recross my legs, angling myself toward him. “I’ve been taught for so long that I need time to be the one not doing the teaching and just be the one performing because I’m told to.”
“Why business management?”
“I have secret plans.”
I see him look at me from the corner of my eye with a smile, but refuse to turn in his direction.
When I left his office all I thought about was kissing him.
Or even asking him to kiss me so much that I actually sped walked out of his building because the need was too great.
Brandon has been flustering me for the last month and I don’t see that ending anytime soon.
“Is that why you post your piano playing online?”
My head whips around to him and whether it’s from the sun or from being caught, but his cheeks have taken on a pink-ish hue I find adorable. His embarrassment is adorable.
“How do you know I post my piano playing online?” I bait him to see if he takes it.
With the sun angling toward us, I can see his eyes move in my direction through the lenses of his sunglasses. “I may have stumbled across your page and watched a time or two.”
“Is that what they call it? Stumbling?” I ask and I can’t keep the smile off my face or amusement out of my questions. It’s my first, true smile in a very long time. The feeling is foreign, but good.
“Yes,” he answers, but doesn’t take it any further.
“To answer your question—yes, that’s why I post my videos online. The house is quiet and I like to fill the space with noise. Or at least noise that I like. I’m not a big television watcher, so I figured I might as well fill the space with noise that makes me happy.”
I notice a scrunch in his forehead, but it disappears just as quickly as it appeared.
“What do you mean that your house is quiet? You still live at home, right?”
“Yeah. Well, my parents aren’t big on living in the house where their son lived.”
Brandon turns his body to me and my knee ends up resting against his thigh. “But you live there too.”
Him pointing out what I know brings a wave of emotion to me. I’ve been stuck in a house, shouting for someone to notice I still live there, and here he is pointing it out in one conversation.
“Yeah,” I respond, because what else is there for me to say? In an effort to turn the conversation back around, I ask him the same question he asked me. “Tell me something personal?”
Brandon notices my need to get back on track, and luckily, he doesn’t call me out on it.
“Something personal, huh?” he asks, and I nod, fighting the urge to smile at his boyish grin. “I think my brothers resent me.”
Not what I thought he was going to say. “How so?”
“I knew James the longest. And the youngest, Ford, probably won’t even remember him by the time he graduates college.”
“I think that’s the same for everyone who loses someone.
The threat as every day goes by, you’re further and further from remembering the sound of their laugh or the feel of their hug, or the smell of the cologne they used to wear.
But I don’t think your brothers could ever resent you.
” The last sentence comes out as a whisper, holding more force than anything ever could.
“Do you resent your brother?” Brandon asks. His observational skills are at an all-time high.
“I do—or, did?” It comes out rhetorical and I think he knows this is something I need to get off my chest. “After the accident, I put a lot of the blame on Kamryn. As a moody teenager, I knew nothing about their relationship. To this day, I still don’t know anything about their relationship.
So I warred with myself that she should have been the one to save him because it’s been drilled into us that women should save men.
But then I eventually teetered on to blaming my brother for leaving me alone.
Because with therapy, I realize that it’s his fault. ”
Tentatively, Brandon takes my hand in his, and I look down. My dainty, feminine hands intertwined with his clean, masculine hands. And for the first time, I feel tethered to this world when I feel like I’ve been floating in space with absolutely no idea how to get home.
“You told me that you have no one. Is that true? Not even your parents?”
I swallow hard and nod. “I have the people that I work with. They’re my family.”
“Do you think you have enough space to let someone else in?” Brandon asks, and I fully turn to look at him to see his gaze locked on me. It’s unnerving that he’s seeing me when I’ve felt invisible for years and comforting to know I’m finally being seen.
“I think I can move things around,” I whisper.
We hold each other's stare. The air charges and threatens to choke me from how much I feel from just being here with him. Until children laughing feet away breaks our spell.
“So, tell me. What are your plans after college? Wait, when are you done with school?” Brandon asks, suddenly changing the subject.
“Move out, hopefully. And, no. I’m taking summer classes so I’ll be done after this semester ends,” I announce.
“Do your parents know when you’re graduating?”
I shake my head.
“Well, if you plan to walk, I’d love to be there to cheer you on,” he tells me.
“Don’t you think we’re moving a little fast? We’re supposed to be friends and you’ve already run a red light and gone straight to hand-holding—now you wanna come to my graduation?”
He shrugs. “Maybe. And if you want to slow down, we can.”
“But…”
“But what?”
“I sensed a ‘but’ at the end.”
“You’re good,” he notes.
“It’s a habit. So, go on.”
“We can go slow if you want to. But I hope you don’t want to. I want to get to know you as more than an acquaintance or a lifelong family friend who shares shared pain. Because we may have known each other for years, but I have no clue who you are as a person.”
Huh. So we definitely have the same thoughts. “Yeah, same.”
“That’s it?” he teases, and it pulls a smile from me.
“Yes. We can go a little slow. Not fast, but not super slow either. You’re much older than me and I won’t lie and say that I’m not scared if the gap makes a difference. Because I don’t think it does—”
“I’m not that much older,” he mutters under his breath.
“Ten years, but who’s counting?” I say offhandedly. “But I don’t want our families to know until we know that this is more than going behind their backs.”
“Have you always had a rebellious streak?”
“No. Actually. But I’ve always done what’s been expected of me. Go to Liam’s baseball games, stop practicing piano when asked, and go to college to get a degree. Piano is for me. But this, you and me, would be for me—us.”
During the last few minutes, we’ve unconsciously drifted toward each other. Our bodies have angled into one another, my knee knocks into his, and his right leg has caged me in. Noting that the distance between our faces has gotten smaller, I can’t help but want to kiss him.
“Tell me you’re thinking the same thing,” Brandon whispers roughly.
His sunglasses are now resting on top of his head now and ever so slowly, he takes mine off.
I note the clench in his jaw when our eyes lock.
Lust is leading this. More than anything I’ve ever felt, lust has been leading the way in this moment.
Brandon is letting me choose, and I’m a hair's breadth from closing the distance and letting that feeling win when more screaming and laughter from the group next to us breaks us apart.
“It’s getting late,” I whisper weakly, disappointing myself that I’m breaking this up.
His eyes roam over my face before he nods in agreement. “Yeah. Where did you park? I’ll walk you back.”