Five Words

Chapter 45

~Cher

I press my lips together as I slowly approach him. I don't want to scare him off or stop him from continuing. He is sitting on the edge of the bench with his back straight, arms relaxed, hands working with ease. His fingers don't work the keys, they caress them effortlessly and gracefully maneuvering their way over the keys. His fingers are long and hard looking, in contrast with the piano keys. But together they produce the sweetest of melodies. He keeps his eyes closed. He is relaxed and he bobs his head forward with each note. It must've taken him years of training for him to play the piece without needing to look to make sure he's pressing the right keys.

The sunlight penetrates through the glass windows hitting all the right angles. The keys shimmer in the daylight beneath his hands. His disheveled hair is damp from the water and it shines in the gentle light as he moves his head. His angelic, porcelain skin has a faint red blush. And that's how I know that he is enjoying this.

He is the sweetest melody on the eyes and ears.

I stared at him in awe, wondering how someone so like him can achieve this level of talent. He moves with feeling, pouring out an outburst of emotions through his motions. His emotions are out in the open, reaching and touching everyone standing watching him. It is truly breathtaking.

People are gathered around him, and he can tell by the way he opens his eyes and looks around him. His eyes scan the room, not losing the rhythm once. His lips break into a radiant smile when our eyes lock. My lips move on their own and stretch, reaching my ears.

He keeps his gaze anchored on me while he plays the final few notes of the piece. His fingers slow down and gradually come to a halt.

Whooping, cheering, whistles, palpable excitement all buzz through the charged air. Grins are on every face in the room. Ace bows his head humbly then makes his way over to me. People praise him and he replies politely with a thank you.

I can tell he doesn't like the attention when he starts losing his smile. He circles his arm around my waist pulling me to him, and he brings his lips close to my ear.

"Let's get out of here before I explode." He chuckles lightly and gently leads me away from the small crowd of people.

I have been trying to stop myself from feeling anything whenever he touches me, and though he touches me in similar ways, they still affect me like it is the first time he touches me.

He keeps his hand on my black when we walk into the hall. We separate and each of us grabs whatever we desire for breakfast. All the food awaits. All the food you can dream of is right here. Countless amounts of vegetables, cheese, fruits, bread, sweets, cereals, juices, coffee. Chefs are standing in front of cookers whipping up omelets for the ones who order. I can't choose what to eat and it will take me forever to make up my mind. One plate does not cut it for me. I take two plates and pile them up with all the food that I find appealing and in my case, it is everything.

I set my plates on a table and go and grab myself a glass of orange juice. By the time I'm back, Ace is seated on the table and is waiting for me.

"You've got quite the appetite." He teases me as he takes a bite of his sandwich.

His plates are piled up more than mine, so I just give my head a slight shake and look at his plate. He shrugs his shoulders and smiles at me.

I pull out a chair and center all my attention on my food. I don't want to think about anything. I don't want my mind to ask questions, but I can't do that. No matter how hard I try.

I want to know where he's learned to play the piano? How did he learn this piece? How did he know about Jean-Philippe? What's his favorite musical piece? Who's his favorite composer? Does he love it? Why did he play it today? Did he play it for me? What does it remind him of? It must remind him of something because his movements were channeling a lot of emotions.