Living with Trouble

Chapter 24

You know I'm just a flight away, if you wanted you can take a private plane ~ Kali Uchis

☆

"Do you still want to hear me play something?"

I blinked, my eyes slid to the clock on my night stand. It was ten o'clock. I flopped back on my pillow, "play me something tomorrow." My eyes fluttered closed.

"Victor put me down!" I pounded my fists on his back. He wouldn't let up and kicked his door open. I continued my assault, but nothing seems to work. His back was hard as steel. I think I broke my hand.

He sat me down on his bed, I let out a small shriek as I bounced slightly on the soft mattress. I took a chance to observe his room. It was large like mine with almost the same set up. Instead of a petite couch he had a piano in its place next to his desk and tv.

His walls were, surprise surprise, painted a light grey. I leaned back on my hands, "why'd you bring me in here. I said I was good."

"You said you wanted to hear me play a song. Your window of opportunity is now and it closes at 12am." He stood before me at his full height. My eyes skimmed his toned and muscular arms as he was only wearing a wife beater and black sweats. A cross hooked onto a single silver chain lay between his collar bones.

He looked down at me with a raised eyebrow. I looked away when I realized he caught me checking him out. "Can you just play the damn song already," I mumbled.

He smirked and approached his piano. He lifted the cover and splayed his fingers out on a key. I scooted to the edge of his bed to get a closer look. His fingers started moving at a soaring pace of delicate speed.

My eyes widened and my mouth dropped a little at how beautiful the music from the piano was. The melody conveyed a dark emotion with essences of light hiding in its composition. My eyes closed and my ears happily listened to the pleasant sound.

When the music stopped I kept my eyes closed a bit longer, letting the song ingrain as deep as it can in my mind. My music storage is most likely more than full but I'm pretty sure I have room for this one.

When I opened my eyes they met with Victor's. He was turnt around in his seat, leaned forward, his elbow resting on his knees. I outstretched my hand and flicked him on the forehead.

He pulled back, "ow what was that for?"

"For picking me up and throwing me on your bed like I'm a rag doll." I gritted my teeth.

"Don't act like you didn't like it," he muttered lowly, rubbing the center of his forehead.

I glared at him but soon burst out into a laugh. He looked at me confused. "You have a red spot where I flicked you," I covered my mouth.

"Did you just say where I fucked you?" His pink lips parted. His eyes grew dark and found my wide ones.

"Flicked," I choked out.

"Oh," he touched his spot again. "Well what do you expect, my skin is white. It gets red at any kind of pressure exerted."

I leaned forward and traced my finger along the outline of the red spot. "Oh my gosh does it still hurt? I'm sorry, I shouldn't of flicked you." I frowned.

His hand grabbed my wrist, his eyes looking up at the finger tracing his skin. "It's fine. It's what I get for dragging you in here," he shrugged.

Or right I'm still in his room. "Who taught you how to play?"

He squared his shoulders and straightened his back. "My dad, he taught me for a few years and then I practiced on my own when he was too busy."

I nodded my head and we sat in silence. I felt like asking more about him and his dad but his answers were always vague when I did. A yawn overcame me and he cocked his head to the side. "You're still tired? You've been sleeping all day."