Nocturne(57)

“I’ve been ready.” She gestured to her flute, set on its stand, that I’d failed to notice upon entering the room. “And I’m warmed up. Anything else, Gregory, or shall we tune and get on with it?”

She arched her eyebrow to accentuate her challenging tone.

That kind of attitude should have infuriated me—a student speaking to me in such a self-righteous tone. But, Savannah was no longer just a student. Not after that night. What she was, though, I had no clear idea.

I thought maybe we should reiterate the boundaries conversation we had after pulling away from our kiss on Madeline’s porch. A kiss, thankfully, gone unmentioned to me by Madeline or James. It wasn’t really a boundaries conversation, though; it was more a declaration that it could simply never happen again. Not while she was still a student.

“Who was that on the phone?” I asked, despite myself, as I took my cello out of its case.

She sighed and glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. “Nathan.”

I cleared my throat. “Connors? I thought he wasn’t your boyfriend.” I couldn’t stop the words from coming out of my mouth.

“He’s not.” She grinned and shook her head just slightly.

“But you said love you when you hung up.”

“Because I love him, Gregory. He’s my friend.” She shrugged, brought her flute to her lips, and ran through a scale, seeming to study my reaction the entire time. “What?” she asked when she finished.

“You two were awfully … close in my class last semester. And all around town, if I remember correctly.”

“I told you he’s not my boyfriend.” She chuckled and shifted the music on her stand once more. “Are you ready? The first twelve notes are all you.”

But she loved him? This woman made no sense.

“Does he tell you he loves you, too?”

She swallowed hard. “Yes. We’ve been friends since we were, like, ten, Gregory. We grew up together. He … can we play, please?” Bemused, she shook her head again.

“Certainly, let’s tune. C?” She nodded and I had just set my bow across the strings when she stopped me.

“And, what do you care if he’s my boyfriend anyway? What was it you said? Your instructions ... it can’t happen again.” She said the words in a stentorian tone, mocking me.

I’d foolishly hoped we could make it through one practice without discussing the night we’d spent together.

“Sav—”

“Don’t.” She put up her hand and straightened her posture. “Let’s just play, okay? You start.”

I set my bow across the strings once again and took a measured breath. She took one too, in time with mine. I couldn’t possibly start without discussing this with her further. This was the precise reason I never mixed life with music. Things got messy. I didn’t want to turn down the opportunity to play with her, though, so I had to figure it out. Fast.

My breath turned into a heavy sigh as I leaned my cello against its stand and set the bow down. Savannah rolled her eyes and put her flute on its upright stand, clasping her hands on her lap.

“Is there a problem?”

My proximity to her was maddening.

The last time I was this close to her we were in bed … I couldn’t stand to be this close to her without touching her, and that was going to be a massive problem if we were to continue working together. I didn’t want it to be … I just wanted to touch her. Just one more time.

So I did.

I reached across the restless space between our bodies and gently set my hand on her thigh. The muscles up and down her thigh tensed in response.

“W-what are you doing?” Her voice staggered a bit as her eyes fell to my hand and made their way up my arm before resting on mine. Her brown eyes were nearly black as her large pupils took me in, and her chest was moving faster as her breathing became softly more erratic.

My mind froze. I had no clue what I was doing. I had no rational explanation for why I was sitting in a practice room at the conservatory with a student, helping her prepare for her senior recital on an instrument I knew little about. Or why my hand was on her thigh.

My lips barely opened. “I don’t know.”

She swallowed hard, never blinking or flicking her gaze elsewhere. “Don’t stop.”

I leaned forward, watching the hue of her cheeks turn from sun-kissed pink to breathless red as I got closer. Never once did she look away from me. She shifted in her seat, turning her knees toward me. My hand trembled as I slid it from her thigh, over the curve of her hip and up her side until it came to rest at the base of her neck where I cradled her chin in my hand. Her eyebrows pulled in a little and she leaned her head into my hand, sucking in a long, deep breath. Her lips looked fuller, begging to be kissed.

I considered pulling back, stopping this right then and there, but all the reasons I shouldn’t have been doing what I was doing vanished as her tongue tentatively slid across her lips, then disappeared back into her beautiful mouth. I brought my other hand to the opposite side of her face and pulled her face to mine. The tips of our noses touched as our mouths stood in a standoff, millimeters from each other.

Exactly enough distance to make a fatal error.

Nothing about her mouth was wrong. Nothing about the smell of lilies coming from somewhere between her neck and her hair was immoral. Nothing about my absolute desire for her was deniable.