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Chapter Five

"Dry martini, please, with extra olives," I murmur, sitting down on the emerald-colored bar stool. The bartender, a young blonde man that looks not even old enough to be out of college, looks to Matteo for his order.

"And for you?"

"The best red you have."

"Got it."

As Matteo sits down, turned towards me, my eyes drift down to the V-cut dip in his sweater and the dark, soft-looking hair rested on his tanned skin. Before he catches me looking, I tuck my hair behind my ear and reach for my drink that the bartender is setting down.

"Thank you."

I bite my lip apprehensively and turn towards him, my heart pumping steadily. My legs are lodged between his, my calf pressed against his, my heel dangling beside his shiny, Italian leather shoe.

"Did you like the performance?" he asks finally before he chuckles. "We didn't get to cover that part yet. What did you think of it?"

"As if my face wasn't transparent enough," I mutter without malice. His mouth curves.

"Yes, but I'd like to know what you were thinking in that moment... when you were crying."

"You want me to embarrass myself."

"No embarrassment, Emma. Honesty, that's all it is."

"And will you tell me where you go while conducting?"

"I will," he vows. Shit, I was hoping he would say no.

My fingers lightly trace the bottom edges of the glass. "I... was thinking that I'd never witnessed anything so beautiful." My eyes apprehensively glance up at him. He nods.

"I'm glad you think so. That piece is one of my favorites."

"I wasn't talking about the composition."

His lips, pressed against the glass of his drink, flatten into a soft smile, pleased. "That can't be all you were thinking of."

"Well, that's all you're gonna get. It's your turn."

He sets down his glass and shrugs. "You ask where I go. I don't go anywhere. I'm most rooted to the ground, centered when I'm surrounded by music. Anytime beyond that, I'm... I don't know... lost."

"Lost? Why do you feel lost?"

He shakes his head and for a moment, I think his mouth won't open to tell me anymore. I don't push further. Instead, I reach out in a form of bravery only present when alcohol is in the picture. My fingers graze his hand rested on his thigh. He looks down and lets me turn it over, palm facing up.

"Everyone's a little lost at some point. It will get better... especially if you let someone in, to try to guide you into clearer days."

His reply is delayed. "Are you that someone?"

"Maybe," I murmur, swallowing. I haven't garnered enough strength to look at him. "Do you want me to be?"

The conversation has fallen much deeper than I expected. He doesn't answer and I fear I've gone too far. I don't even know how this started anymore, any of this. Looking up warily, I find him staring at me, his eyes searching mine.

My heels click onto the ground as I stand up, moving in between his legs slowly. His hand comes to my waist as I gaze upon his beautiful face.

I don't know what I feel looking at him. Wonder, awe... all I know is I've never felt this for another person before, especially this fast.