happened, there just wasn’t sound anymore.
“You’ve played a keyboard before, right?” Ryder asked deadpan.
“Oh yeah, lots of times,” I lied but sounded obvious enough that I didn’t feel guilty about it.
I ignored the look Ryder and Phoenix were giving each other and took a breath to settle my nerves. I fiddled with the volume button, turning down the sound so it wouldn’t rival Phoenix’s cymbals and then pressed down on the same cord again. The keys were lighter than I was used to, there was no weight to press into, no heavy feeling of accomplishment. It was just…. easy.
With my fingers pressed down, I wiggled them around a little, getting used to the width of each key. When I finally felt like I could wrap my head around the plastic feel of the keys I lifted off and began moving my fingers in quick scales up and down the shortened octaves. After a while I flexed my fingers, loving the warm feeling tingling in each joint.
“Wow you’re really good,” Phoenix commented in awe.
“Phoenix, I was just warming up,” I sighed a bit exasperated.
“Fine, let’s hear it then,” Ryder commanded in his gravelly voice. I looked up and accidentally caught his eye. He was staring at me intently, waiting for me to wow him. Only…. I didn’t want to wow him. I wanted to walk across the room and kiss him. Like attack him with kisses.
What the hell?
Obviously those psychotic thoughts were enough to get me to move my ass. Instead of Ryder’s mouth, I attacked the keys instead, throwing myself into Piano Concerto by Tchaikovsky but immediately ran out of keys on the small set of octaves so I switched to something more contemporary but didn’t really have the range for that either so I improvised.
“That’s beautiful,” Ryder commented. He walked across the small practice space and stood hovering over me while my fingers moved nimbly across the cheap plastic keyboard.
“At times,” I murmured and then hit a section of harsh, discordant chords.
Ryder laughed softly at the notes being played before they were switched back to light and airy and sweet again. “What is it?”
I lifted my gaze from my fingers to meet his silver eyes without realizing it. “Romance,” I heard myself say out loud in an embarrassingly breathy voice. I cleared my throat and focused back on my hands. “Jean Sibelius.”
My fingers danced and flew, crossing over each other and then crossing back. I didn’t have a pedal making the piece choppy and broken up and the very low notes and very high notes were absent leaving much to be desired, but the captivating melody was there. And I was there, caught up in the music, lost in the swell and intensity as the music carried us through what I pictured real life romance to be like, easy at first, passionate, consuming, difficult as real life set in, confusing, infuriating, discontented and then back to the best notes, the best sounds and ending with both hands on chords that complimented each other, that made the other whole…. that finished each other.
My fingers lay heavily on the last notes because once I removed them I knew the music would be gone. That it would be quiet again. And even as the last of the sound faded away I stared down at my tense fingers waiting for it.
Ryder placed a hand on top of my own. I stared at the way his tanned, masculine fingers contrasted with the pale ivory of mine. His thumb moved against mine in a sweeping gesture of comfort. “You’re incredible,” he whispered gently.
I mashed my lips together, forgetting everything else in the room. I lifted my eyes to meet his and the breath caught in my throat. His eyes were liquid pools of silver, intense and exposed all at the same time. “You’re really incredible, Ivy,” he whispered again once he had my attention.
“Thank you,” I meant to reply but was only capable of mouthing the words.
Finally my fingers lifted from the keys and whatever was left of the faint sounds disappeared completely. Phoenix started clapping obnoxiously before he stood and started whistling for me. “Holy shit, Ivy, that was insane.”
I blushed, realizing I had never just had fun playing for anyone before. My mother used my talent to impress dates or Nix. Nix used this to intimidate other legacies. And I hadn’t taken private lessons in three years.
“Thanks guys,” I breathed, all of a sudden embarrassed.
“You’re like a musical ninja,” Phoenix bounced over, staring