a long way/ Elizabeth Olsen x female reader

Chapter seven

The days following our solo performances were filled with a mix of anxiety and anticipation. Mrs. Lewis hadn't announced any eliminations yet, which only heightened the tension among the finalists. We were all on edge, unsure of what the next challenge would be.

Then, one afternoon, we were called into Mrs. Lewis's office. The atmosphere was thick with unease as we gathered around her desk. She looked at each of us with that piercing gaze of hers, the one that made you feel like she could see right through you.

"I'm sure you're all wondering what's next," she began, her voice calm but with an undercurrent of intensity. "We've seen your technical skills, your ability to perform under pressure. Now, I want to see how you handle collaboration."

The word "collaboration" hung in the air like a heavy cloud. We all exchanged glances, each of us trying to gauge the reactions of the others. It wasn't just about playing the piano anymore; it was about how well we could work together, how we could blend our individual talents into something cohesive and harmonious. And that, I knew, was going to be a challenge.

Mrs. Lewis continued, "You'll be divided into pairs. Each pair will be assigned a piece to perform together. You'll need to rehearse, arrange, and perform it within the next two days. This isn't just about your ability to play; it's about how well you can listen, adapt, and create something beautiful with someone else."

My heart sank. Working with someone else meant being vulnerable, opening up my process to another person's influence. It meant giving up control, at least partially, and trusting someone else. The thought was both terrifying and thrilling.

Mrs. Lewis began to read off the pairs. "Logan and Priya," she said first. They exchanged relieved smiles, already comfortable with each other. "Danielle and Marcus." Another pair that seemed content with the arrangement.

"And finally, Y/N and Elizabeth."

My breath caught. Of all the people in the room, Elizabeth was the one I felt most uneasy about. She was immensely talented, but there was a coldness about her, a kind of distance that made me feel like she was always two steps ahead, always calculating her next move.

Elizabeth didn't react immediately. She simply nodded, her face a blank slate, as if she had already expected this pairing. I wished I could read her thoughts, but she gave nothing away.

Mrs. Lewis dismissed us, and we all filed out of the office. I followed Elizabeth as she walked to a quieter corner of the hallway, away from the others. She turned to face me, her expression unreadable.

"So," she said, her voice neutral, "looks like we're partners."

"Yeah," I replied, trying to sound upbeat. "It'll be interesting to see what we can come up with together."

She nodded again, but there was a hint of something in her eyes—doubt, maybe? Or was it determination? "I suppose we should get started right away," she said. "We don't have much time."

I agreed, and we headed to one of the practice rooms. The silence between us was thick, each step echoing through the halls as we approached the room. When we entered, Elizabeth immediately went to the piano and sat down, her fingers lightly touching the keys as if she was already lost in thought.

"What piece do you think we should choose?" I asked, breaking the silence.

Elizabeth looked at me, considering. "I think we should go with something that allows both of us to showcase our strengths but also forces us to rely on each other. Maybe something with intricate harmonies and a strong melody line."

I nodded, liking the idea. "How about Debussy's 'Clair de Lune'? It's both challenging and beautiful, with a lot of room for interpretation."

Elizabeth's eyes brightened slightly, the first real sign of emotion I'd seen from her. "I was thinking the same thing," she said. "It's perfect."

We began working on the piece, starting with a discussion of how we wanted to interpret it. Elizabeth was surprisingly open to my suggestions, and I found myself relaxing a little, the initial tension between us easing as we delved into the music. She had a way of playing that was precise and controlled, yet there was an underlying passion in her notes that resonated with me.

As we played through the piece, I noticed how our styles began to complement each other. My playing was more fluid, more expressive, while Elizabeth's was grounded, creating a balance that neither of us could achieve alone. It was like a dance, each of us leading and following in turns, our individual voices blending into something richer and fuller.

After a few hours, we took a break, both of us exhausted but satisfied with our progress. Elizabeth leaned back in her chair, her usual guarded expression softening. "You're really good," she said, her tone almost begrudgingly admiring.

"Thanks," I replied, feeling a flush of pride. "So are you. I think we make a good team."

She looked at me, and for the first time, I saw a hint of a smile. It was small, almost imperceptible, but it was there. "Maybe," she said softly.

We fell into a companionable silence, the tension from earlier almost forgotten. I realized that, despite my initial reservations, I was actually enjoying working with Elizabeth. There was something about her—an intensity, a drive—that pushed me to be better, to reach deeper into the music.

But I also knew that this was just the beginning. We still had a lot of work to do, and the real test would come when we performed in front of Mrs. Lewis. I had no doubt that Elizabeth would bring her A-game, and I was determined to match her note for note.