Heartstrings

Chapter 10

I pulled the bow across the strings, playing the slow violin melody from 'Schindler's List'.

It was probably the saddest movie I'd ever seen, but the song was one of my favorites.

I played the last note and exhaled, setting Cephas down in her case.

I'd arrived to the theater early enough to play around before places call, but I was cutting it close. It would've been wise for me to waste my time in the orchestra pit, so I'd at least be ready.

But my hand started itching at my backpack, where the journal resided.

After agonizing for about thirty seconds, I pulled the journal out and flipped it open to where I'd left off, and pulled out a pencil.

"You're gonna be late." A voice said next to my ear.

I jumped and slammed the book shut, concealing what I'd written.

"Sorry." Sky laughed. "Did I interrupt something?"

"The writing process." I stood up, sliding the journal back into my bag.

"Is this that song from 'Schindler's List'?" He picked up the sheet music resting atop my music stand.

I nodded, reaching to take it back from him. "One of my favorites."

He held it up higher, out of my range.

"It's not nice to oppress the vertically challenged!" I jumped up to reach it.

"I'm not even that tall!" He said, amused by my struggling. "You're nearly my height."

"That doesn't change the fact that I can't reach it!"

He finally relented and handed the music back to me, snickering.

"Did you write this?" He pointed to a piece of sheet music with scribbled notes and measures on it.

"Yeah. I'm not very good at it, but I was kind of starting to like this one."

"May I?"

I nodded.

He picked it up, scanning the notes with his eyes and humming the melody softly.

"No, no, no, stop." I interrupted him. "You're singing the beat wrong."

"No I'm not." He pointed to the time signature. "Three-four."

"But you've got the tempo wrong."

"Well, you didn't put a metronome speed."

I took the music from him and pointed to the first note, beginning to hum the tune the way I'd written it.

I dragged my finger across the page, following the ups and downs, the fortes and the pianos, the rests and the tenutos, the staccatos and the slurs, until I came to the end.

"It's not done yet." I said, my eyes still on the paper.

"It's beautiful."

I shrugged, trying to keep the heat from creeping up the back of my neck. "It's nothing special. I think of it like life. It gets loud, it gets quiet, it goes fast, it goes slow, major key, minor key."

"You really are a poet, aren't you? In literally everything you write."

"Sometimes it's involuntary. Sometimes it just happens."

I felt his eyes on me, but when I turned to meet them, my nose brushed against his.

I could hear my heart pounding in my ears, and I think I almost heard his too.

His breathing was soft and steady, and I fought to keep mine that way.

I was afraid that, should I make any movements, something would shatter.

But he wasn't as concerned about that.

He only had to lean in about an inch, but he even seemed to cross that short of a distance so slowly.

He did cross that small distance, moving forward until his lips were against mine.

And I felt that same feeling I had the night before.

It'd confused me then, it didn't confuse me now.

My assumptions had been correct, no matter how much I'd wished otherwise.

"Places call." A voice over the speaker brought me back down to earth.

I pulled away from Sky, hurriedly packing Cephas up and closing my music folder.

"The conductor's gonna kill me." I forced myself to laugh through a nervous stammer. "I doubt the director would be any happier with you."

"He'll be fine. I don't have a line until the second song."

"Yeah, well, I do, so I've gotta hurry." I slipped the straps of the violin case over my shoulder. "If I don't want to be eaten alive, that is." I quickly made my way towards the door to the backstage hallway.

"Aiden!" He called just as I'd stepped out.

I looked back, and finally met his soft brown eyes.

"I'll...I'll see you after?" He asked, uncomfortably shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

I managed a small, shy smile, and nodded. "Yeah."

His shoulders relaxed a bit. "Okay."

I turned and continued walking, wondering whether to scold myself, or scold him.