Music in the Key of Love

Chapter 3: Dinner

Cressida was having a hard time falling asleep. She put it down to being in a new place, and the stifling heat, even though she'd been there nearly a week already. Numerous boxes still stood stacked around, creating ominous shadows all around her bed, and even with the windows open and the fan on, there was barely a breeze.

But as she tossed and turned, her thoughts kept returning to Graham, the grumpy tenant of 1A. She hadn't seen him in the few days she'd been there, but she'd heard his piano playing plenty; he didn't seem to do anything else.

Why, why did he have to be so hateful?

And why did he have to be so good-looking? 

Life could be so unfair. Those arms, his hands, his hair. He looked like he should be on the track field or in a swimming pool, with those long legs, sinewy arms and broad shoulders, instead of which he was a classical pianist.

What an enigma.

She finally fell into a fitful sleep, where, of course, she had a dream about Graham. She woke up feeling as tired as when she'd gone to bed. What was worse, she'd started her period in the night, and now her sheets needed washing. The laundromat was only two doors down, which was convenient, but still. She hadn't wanted to spend her morning doing laundry.

She quickly got dressed, spot washed the sheet, grabbed enough laundry to make a full load, and headed off to the laundromat.

It was another scorcher, and the laundromat was air-conditioned, which was a plus, anyway. She got the washing machine going and opened her laptop, ostensibly to work, though she knew she'd just end up watching a few cat videos and surfing the net.

On a whim, she searched for "Graham Stevens" on FaceBook, Twitter and Instagram, but couldn't find him anywhere.

Who, in this day and age, had no social media at all?

She finally googled his name, along with the word "piano," and was surprised to find something. There were articles about him online.

Wow.

Apparently, he was an up and coming pianist, who had studied at Hamilton Music Academy, the protege of someone named Erica Thurman, who was grooming him for major success in the world of classical piano. There were even photographs of him, looking very serious and handsome in a tuxedo as he sat at a shiny black grand piano on a stage somewhere.

Another article said he was the pianist most favored to win the deClerq competition, which was to be held at Carnegie Hall in December. The winner, in addition to receiving a cash prize, would get a one year scholarship to study at the Royal Academy of Music in London.

"If you wanted to know about me, all you had to do was ask."

Cressida nearly jumped out of her skin at how close the deep voice was, and looked up in shock to see Graham standing next to where she sat.

"What are you doing here?" she gasped, closing her laptop with a snap, though she knew he'd already seen what she was doing.

He held up a basket of clothes with a bottle of detergent sitting on top of it, and gestured around the room, where washers sloshed and dryers were humming as clothes tumbled dry.

"I'll pretend you didn't just ask that," he said with a smirk. He tipped his chin toward her laptop. "Find out anything interesting?"

Cressida was silent. She could feel the blush creeping up her neck, and wished the floor would just open up and swallow her.

"Besides, what you said isn't true, you know," she finally said. "About just asking you? I tried to talk to you yesterday, and you were rude and uncouth, and shut me down completely."