expression switching from focused at more complicated sections to joyous grins at simpler ones.
Her attention was pulled between watching him and her own keys. She caught his lips moving a few times, the song lyrics flowing silently from him. Could he sing too? She was okay at it if forced, but him...a deep baritone? Full and smooth tenor?
Another thing she’d have to coax from him.
On the next song, she switched to one of her own. It was a tune she’d been working on for part of her senior recital. It was a bit edgy and a better fit for the keyboard, but she was curious to see how he’d respond.
He stalled for a few bars, frowning as he listened. He quirked a brow at her, and she shrugged in response. She was into the refrain when he jumped in, finding chords that enhanced hers without overpowering.
Chills raced down her spine, the hairs standing up on the back of her neck. It was one of those moments when everything jived and the notes connected. It flowed deeply into her, heating and firing her blood with life. This was music at its purest.
She was completely lost in the beauty that was the music swirling around them when a hammering knock rang out on the door. She jerked and cut the song, gaze flying to the clock on the wall. Her heart raced, skin buzzing with the high that’d filled her.
Their time was up. It’d gone by way too fast.
Henrik halted his play, the last notes floating away as he stared at her. His lips were parted, chest rising and falling with his quick breaths. His hair fell across his forehead in a loose cascade to brush his brow, a wild yet calm sense emanating from him. Like he could pounce at any second or simply fade away without a word.
Her emotions rushed up to choke her, words becoming impossible. Did he feel this too, the pounding harmony that wove around them? Connected them right then? Would he think she was crazy if she vaulted around the piano to claim his mouth like she’d been thinking of doing since she’d met him? The desire to wrap herself around him and let go of the pent-up lust burning inside her was barely contained.
Another quick knock broke the strange lock that’d entrapped her. She jolted up, rubbing her hands over her jeans to stretch her fingers and dry her damp palms. “Our time’s up,” she told him, her voice not even close to controlled.
His gaze held the intensity of before, along with a questioning...doubt. Was that it? Want mixed with hesitation?
She held out her hand and managed to resist the urge to rub her palm up his arm, feel all those muscles bunched beneath his sweater. “I’ll put it back.” A short nod at the guitar had him hitching the strap over his head.
“Sorry.”
“For what?”
He shook his head, eyes sweeping up to catch hers for a heated instant before he turned away. “That was nice. Thank you.”
Nice. What an understatement.
She put the guitar back, her nerve endings pinging in total awareness of him when she slipped her coat on. Henrik was waiting at the door, her backpack slung over his shoulder. And there her stomach went again, twisting around with the kick to her heart.
Maybe she should have that checked out—right along with her next blood test. And that was the dose of reality she needed.
An impatient guy shoved away from the wall when they stepped into the hallway.
“Sorry,” she offered. “Lost track of time.”
“It’s all right,” the guy mumbled before rushing inside.
Henrik watched the door close then frowned. “Is it always like that?”
“Like what?”
“People waiting around just to play for an hour?” He glanced up and down the hall. “Aren’t there enough rooms for everyone?”
“It’s a music school.” She laughed and headed for the exit. “There are never enough rooms.”
“Can you practice at home?”
“Yes. I have a keyboard that lets me play with headphones so I don’t bother anyone.” A very generous gift from her brothers a few Christmases back.
“It’s not the same though.” He held the door open for her. The fact that she kept noticing said exactly how unused to it she was.
“It all depends on what you’re looking for,” she countered. “That last piece is pretty damn cool on a keyboard. Plus it would’ve recorded the changes I made to the music as I played.”
He stopped, frown deepening. “You made changes?”
“After you joined.” She tried to sound casual and busied herself