Breakfast was all done and I was washing up. Ali and Ben waved good bye and I smiled at the sweetness of their romance. Such a caring couple, and a handsome one, too. I rinsed the loose eggs out of the pan, setting it in the dishwasher.
"Good morning, mmm~ thanks," he smiled warmly at me and picked up his hot cup of coffee with sugar and marshmellows. I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to distract me from my pounding heart, and smiled normally in return. "Ah!" he cried out and let the cup go. The dish crashed against the counter and chipped. I cried his name in concern and grabbed the dishtowel from my waist, quickly pushing him away from the hot spill. Curses poured from both our mouths faster than the light brown liquid and I check his hands. They were becoming red and irritated. I kicked myself internally and almost had to restrain myself from doing so literally.
Together, we sat him in one of the chairs at the bar in our kitchen and I rushed to the sink and ran the decently clean rag under some cool water, rushing back over to him. The coffee continued to drip down the cabinet of our counter, but I kept my focus on gently wrapping the towel around his hands.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I plead over and over.
"Hey, hey, HEY!" he snapped me out of my insane trance. I looked up reluctantly and met his deep brown eyes. They crinkled down at me and I leaned down to gently press my lips to his palms.
"I'm sorry, again."
"Don't be, it was my fault for spilling the coffee on my hand."
"No, no, there was no reason for the coffee to be so hot."
"Well, did you brew it yourself?"
".....No." said I, looking away.
"Then, that blasted machine is to blame," said he, making me laugh. "If I wasn't in such a hurry to get to work, I'd bust it up myself, but do you think you could take my place?" I giggled.
"Yeah, I guess."
"Good," said he then cupped my face and squished my cheeks together playfully, smiling.
"Are you going to be alright?" I asked placing my hand over his.
"Hmm...." he considered it then pecked my nose. Together, his fingers and mouth played and hummed Dolly Suite Op.56 on my face. I had heard that damn piece so many times and asked for it more than I cared to admit. But, it was the first piece that we had played together, all those years ago. It was a memory that could only be relived by actually experiencing it.
When we had played for the first time together, the very first time we practiced, he had sight-read. Oh, my God, how amazing he was to simply sit down, with all that he had been practicing for other performances, and to preform a piece for the first time, helping me along, as well. Amazing doesn't describe it; it was Oxygen. He went straight into the piece as if he had played it for years, he probably had, but I didn't know.
When we had preformed it, the second time we played, I wasn't so focused on him, or how close he was, how he smelled like the shower, how he would glance at me from moment to moment, being a good duet partner. He hadn't loved me then, which made me even more attracted to him. He wasn't like that; able to quickly like someone and just fall in love with them; it took time. It took me two years to become his friend, two more to become close, and 4 after that to become anything close to a girlfriend.
Back to it, our first duet changed me, strongly. I felt more, in the music I played. I heard him coach me in my room and at school. I sensed him in my soul when I ran into a difficult part and felt disheartened. We had been so close. I had truly understood what it was to be one with the piano and my partner. I don't even remember it, the only evidence that I have that it happened is a video my friend took of us. Of him glancing at me to start, and me not meeting his gaze, oblivious. Of the end when he looked at me in congratulations. Oblivious once more. I didn't want anyone knowing I had feelings for him, so I watched myself on how often I gazed upon him. I wish I had been friendlier, cleaner, nicer, more attractive, more talented. I could have had him sooner...
But, now was fine.
His voice stopped and I felt myself open my eyes again. He kissed me. I didn't want it to end. I wrapped my arms around him neck and tilted my head. Soon, we couldn't breath. If I really wanted to, I'd kill myself if I could keep pressing my mouth to his forever. His gorgeous, sweet, funny-
"I've got to go," he said, breathless.
"I know," I groaned, unwrapping my arms and slipping away.
I walked way and bent down, wiping up the now cold coffee while he walked into our room again. "Our room"......
He came out in my favorite, purple sweater and finger-combed his hair. I was finishing up the dishes while he came over to say goodbye
"Bye," he smirked, pecking me on the lips. Tease.
"Bye, I love you," the words were out of my mouth before I realized he wasn't my mother or my father. Our brown eyes widened together. "Whoops! Sorry! I didn't mean that, I was just- I didn't-" he silence me with his hand.
"It's alright," he laughed. "It's alright....I love you, too." I sucked in a breath, but he prevented more air from entering with another kiss. When we pulled apart, he bumped his forehead fondly against mine, the way a cat would. "Also, we've got to make a list of how many times you're allowed to say 'I'm sorry' or apologize." I pushed him away and giggled, again; He always made me do that.
Out the door he went with a grin.
Alluring.
