What He Never Knew (What He Doesn't Know, #3)(38)

Sarah didn’t move at first, and when she finally did, it was like she was in a daze as she slowly gathered her things and packed them away in her messenger bag.

She slung it over her shoulder, and I turned, smiling at her like everything was fine. “See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow,” she said, returning my smile, but I felt the uncertainty of it as she turned and let herself out.

As soon as she was gone, I dropped the folder on top of the piano with a slap, taking a seat on the bench with my hands running back through my hair.

What the actual hell, Reese?

It made sense for Sarah to look at me like that, to think that she maybe wanted to know what it felt like for her teacher to kiss her. It was normal. She was a young girl, we were spending nearly every day with one another, and we both had to be vulnerable to work together. It was the nature of the agreement we’d entered into.

But it was my responsibility not to let it go past that.

Maybe she had a crush. I involuntarily smiled at that, and then shook my head so hard I nearly broke my neck to reprimand myself.

No.

I said that one word as loud as I could out loud, then repeated it mentally as my hands moved to the keys, playing nothing and something all at once. It was similar to the song I’d played after the first time I’d met Sarah, but something in it had shifted, revealing a more dramatic, emotional element beneath the notes than I’d originally played.

I let myself get lost in that melody, in that piece of music being brought to life by my hands. And all the while, I reminded myself where our boundaries existed.

Maybe she had a crush. Maybe she wanted to kiss me.

Maybe I wanted to kiss her.

I let out an audible growl, playing with more gusto as I shook my head again.

No, Reese.

I thought of Charlie, of her and Cameron, of the way I’d given my heart to her even though I knew hers wasn’t for the taking. Sarah was off limits to me in the same manner. She was my student, and she trusted me to be her teacher — nothing more. I wouldn’t take advantage of the vulnerable place I had her in, in the time she was forced to spend with me.

I wouldn’t mistake that vulnerability for actual feelings, because I’d learned that lesson once before.

And once was all it took.

A crush was one-sided, as long as I didn’t entertain it. And that’s what I had to remind myself.

It was in my hands, our relationship. I had to draw the lines, trace them with a permanent marker, and constantly be the one to point them out. It didn’t matter that I wanted to kiss her, too. It didn’t matter that every day made it more and more impossible to look at her and see a girl, a student, instead of the captivating young woman and artist she was.

I existed in her life to help her reach her goals in piano, and that’s what I would do. It was my job. It was my responsibility — both to her and to myself.

I liked our routine. I liked being her teacher, and I liked that she trusted me to teach her. That was what mattered most. That was what I would do anything to protect.

And I sealed that sentiment with the last notes of a song she was creating inside me.

One she’d never know about.





Sarah



I tried to let go, tried to focus on my breathing and nothing else as I followed the guidance of Deepak Chopra. His voice was calming, smooth and steady as it floated through my Bluetooth speaker. He asked me to set an intention, to repeat that intention when other thoughts made their way into my meditation. My mom sat on her mat in Atlanta, meditating with me over a video chat, and I even tried to channel her focus in an attempt to keep my own.

But for twenty-two minutes, instead of clearing my mind and re-centering my spirit, all I did was think about Reese Walker.

It was the first day in a full month that I hadn’t seen him. If I wasn’t sitting in his home, at his piano, I was watching him play as I bussed tables at The Kinky Starfish. But, today was Wednesday, which meant no lessons. And I had the night off from work, too.

I had no idea what to do with myself.

Though it was still technically spring, summer seemed to be in full bloom in Pennsylvania now that school was out, and I often played at Uncle Randall’s piano with the curtains drawn so I could watch all the life happening outside the window. There were mothers pushing their newborns in strollers, laughing as they caught up on the latest gossip. There were kids riding their bikes up and down the street, dogs chasing their wheels, cars slowly passing by with camping gear strapped to the top. The weather was hot, the days were long, and everyone, it seemed, was happy.

Myself included.

Maybe it was just the long, warm, spring-almost-summer days that had lifted my mood, or maybe it was that I felt my wrists getting stronger, my hands stretching farther, my playing ability shifting into something it had never been before. Maybe it was that music was alive again for me, that it was speaking to me instead of lying there like some heavy, dead thing any time I tried to find comfort in it.

I was finally sitting down at the piano and finding joy again instead of fear. I was finding comfort instead of anxiety. I was feeling like I was home instead of just wandering this Earth aimlessly.

Something inside me had shifted since working with Reese Walker.

And maybe that was the real reason for my happiness.

I shook him out of my head with an exasperated huff near the end of our guided mediation, anxious to get through the last few minutes so I could talk to my mom.