Stories To Be Told

chapter three

We rushed upstairs, both internally screaming from nerves. I didn't know this guy, he didn't know me. But I was about to enter his sleeping quarters and get a personal piano lesson. It seemed a bit weird. Then it was even more odd when I entered his room to find it a complete messy. His ears turned a shade pinker while he quickly picked up clothes from the floor and threw them into a laundry basket.

The one place that looked tidy was an area around the keyboard. Other than that, Dan's room was cluttered with books of the music, educational, and fictional variety. It was pretty much my room back home, but with boxers on the floor.

I stood, awkwardly, just inside the doorway. "So, um, I like that shirt right there," I said, cringing. I pointed to some checkered lump sitting on the floor not a foot away from me.

He picked it up to reveal that it was in fact not a shirt, but yet another pair of boxers. God, this boy had a lot of underwear.

"You can close the door," he said, blushing. He was cute when he was embarrassed.

"Oh, yeah, sure."

He situated himself behind the keyboard. "So..." he said as he pressed his hands onto the keys.

I looked around at the books of sheet music until I saw one I recognized. Picking it up, I handed it to him. "Page 22."

He immediately took the book and turned through it until he came upon the piece I was talking about. "A classic," he smiled.

I turned the corners of my mouth up the tiniest bit, still unsure of myself.

As he played, I inched forward. His fingers were so sure of their actions, I could tell he had played this often. The look on his face was almost comical. He had his forehead and nose all scrunched together, like a little lion. I envied his ability to get so absorbed in his playing, something I had been having trouble with recently. He was a balance between focus and passion.

When he finished he said, "Would you like to play something? Or at least sit? God, I must seem like a terrible host. You've probably already vowed to yourself to never come in here again now that you've seen how mess it is. Not that I wanted you to visit my room often! But it would be okay if you wanted to?"

I laughed a little bit.

"Well I must sound like an idiot. I guess what I'm trying to say is that you're welcomed in here, but knock first," he concluded.

"Thanks," I nodded.

"Back to the original question...Do you want to play something?"

"What have you got?"

"Just look around for yourself. I can't even think of the names of all of them." He pointed to a shelf containing many music books as well as record, not organized in any way, it seemed.

I walked over and crouched down. Scanning over the titles, I mentally went through the ones I had back home or played before. There was a blue one that caught my eye. It was more tattered than my own, but that only meant it was loved more. His book must have been brought tons of places for it to look like that. Picking it out, I noticed "Daniel Smith Performance" written on the blue cover.

"Performance?" I asked.

"I used to play a bunch of pieces from this for dinner parties or fancy restaurants last holiday. It was a job," he shrugged.

I nodded again. "I think I would be too scared for that, in all honesty."

"Yeah, I was at first. Then I realized that nobody was actually listening close enough. Here." He moved away from the keys to make more room for me.

"Do you care how long it is?" I had a specific one in mind that sort of dragged out, but I hadn't played it in a while. Hell, I was definitely about to mess up and completely embarrass myself. The lack of practicing I had done with it was about to show.

He shook his head. "I'll just keep cleaning my room, if you don't mind."

"Okay." I pressed my fingers to the keys, doing some random arpeggios to warm up my hands.

Dan started flitting about his room, putting things away and throwing things out. It was like we had some secret agreement to not give too much attention to each other for fear of being frightening. Whatever it was, I liked it. It was nice to just exist and not have to force small talk.

Tentatively, I began to play. It was a more jazzy piece, not at all classical. I liked it because it was unique to other jazz songs. There was a second part that my father would play. However, that hadn't happened for a while. Either way, the part that was usually mine could be played alone. At first, it took some focus to get the notes right, but that soon faded away when instinct took over. For the first time in months, I lost myself in the instrument. I didn't know what it was about Dan or his room, but the aura of calm, of steadiness, made everything melt away. It was like the little slice of the universe that was in his room knew what it wanted to be; it was unchanging and sure of itself, stable.

It felt good.

When I finished playing, I looked up to see Dan sitting on his (now made) bed. Typical white sheets. He was looking at me.

"Nice," he said.

"Thanks," I responded.

A slightly uncomfortable tension settled around us as he kept looking at me, even when I looked down again. It would be a lie to say I wasn't blushing a little bit.

"What," I stated more than asked.

"I don't know... nothing I guess," said Dan.

We kept switching off: one playing, the other sitting on the bed. We didn't talk much, but that was okay. It got to six o'clock before we knew it, and I was almost disappointed to leave the comfort of his room. I left first, Dan following close behind. It wasn't until we saw Kat coming up the stairs that I realized just how close he was.

Dan was quite a bit taller than me, but very lanky. Had it been any other situation, I probably would have thought he seemed protective. However, under those circumstances, it was just awkward. I quickly walked forward toward Kat who had her eyebrows raised.

"Everyone ready?" she asked, making eye contact with me and raising her eyebrows even further.

"Yup!" said Dan. He didn't seem bothered at all.

I kept my head down until we reached the bottom of the staircase, where I promptly went to stand at the wall by the door. I was not ready when Kat came over and leaned over to whisper, "We'll talk about that later."

Once again, I nodded.

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Chapter three! After this, updates will probably be a bit slower. Sorry about that, if you're actually reading this avidly (there are, like, 6 of you). But thank you so much to those who are taking the time to read my story! It means a lot!