“Cool.” She gave Justin and me a quick hug before sprinting up the stairs.
The door clicked shut. I faced the computer.
“Do you want to work on something new?” he asked.
“That’s okay. I think this will keep me busy for a while.” I labeled Naomi’s latest vocal.
“Should I go, then?”
No, I like being around you. Yes, because I think I like it too much. Maybe, because I don’t know what else to say. “Do you want to go?”
His footsteps came up behind me. Soft and hesitant. “No.”
I bumped the mouse, undoing my last action. “Um, okay.” Edit-redo. “Just so you know, what Kari said about the locker room thing. I don’t talk about you. Naomi does and—”
His breath tickled my ear. “I don’t care.”
I accidentally deleted my bass track. Undo. Wait, wrong menu. “What would you like to undo? I mean, do?”
He looked at the computer over my shoulder. “I could watch you work your magic.”
“I need the earphones for that.” Think, Drea. “But I’ve always wanted to learn how to play the piano.”
“Sweet.” He grabbed the back of my chair and rolled me toward the keyboard. “Door-to-door service.”
I gripped the armrests. “Um, thanks.”
He moved his chair to my right. His arm pressed into mine as he sat down. “What song do you want to learn?”
“How about one of yours?” I tried to keep my voice even. Interested. But it probably came out over the top.
“Okay, I’ll teach you the first one I wrote. It’s really lame, but easy to learn.”
“I doubt it’s lame.”
He took my left hand and pressed my fingers into three notes. “This is A-minor. Your first chord. Just keep playing A-C-E-A-C-E.”
I played each note as he directed until I found a rhythm.
“You got it.” His hand hovered over mine again. “Now move your pinkie back to the G and play G-B-D the same way.” He instructed me to move down to E-minor, then up to F before returning to A-minor. It was hard to focus with him so close, especially when he smelled like rain again.
As I got the hang of the bass notes, he played a sparse melody in a higher octave, following my unpredictable rhythm perfectly. “You’re a quick study,” he said.
“Whatever. I keep hitting the wrong notes.”
He touched my nose. “That’s because you’re thinking too hard. Close your eyes.”
“Then I won’t be able to see what I’m doing.”
“That’s the point,” he whispered in my ear. “Sometimes the only way to connect is to let go.”
I shut my eyes, trying to detach my brain from my hand. No easy feat. Justin played a few more notes. These were faster—more passionate. They gave me chills. I tapped my foot on the floor and pretended I was driving his melody. My fingers moved slowly at first, but I became less aware of everything as the music swam around me.
Justin took my free hand, his fingers sliding over mine and pressing them to the keys. My other hand twitched. I hit G-sharp instead of G.
He used my fingertips to play the notes. For a few moments I felt like a real piano player lost in my own creation. It was incredible. And I didn’t want it to stop.
I leaned on him, letting his warmth draw me closer. His breath hit my cheek. My heart beat faster. I tilted my face up, and his lips met mine. Our hands slid off the keyboard and his fingers inched up my forearms. I had no idea what to do, or if I was even doing it right.
His mouth pressed into mine, parting my lips softly. My skin felt weird. Hot all over and sensitive to every movement.
I pulled back and opened my eyes. “I don’t think I’m doing this right.”
He smiled and ran his fingers through my hair. “The piano or the kiss?”
“Both.”
“Do you want to stop?”
I looked at the faint freckle on his upper lip and the gold flecks in his eyes. “You’re really beautiful,” I said before shaking my head. “God, that probably sounded stupid.”
He touched his nose to mine. “So are you.”
His soft lips pressed into mine again, and I closed my eyes, kissing him back. His arm muscles tensed with my touch, and his breaths grew heavier. I was afraid the spit thing would gross me out, but I didn’t mind it. It made him real. It made this real.
He pulled me closer and kissed my jaw, moving down my neck. His mouth found a spot behind my ear that sent tickles down my spine. The feeling was almost too intense to take.
And then the door upstairs swung open. “Andrea?” Grandma called. “Dinner is ready.”
We pulled apart. I wiped my lips with the back of my hand, wondering if they’d look kissed somehow. Justin sat up straighter and put one hand on the keyboard.
Grandma’s sharp eyes went from me to Justin when she reached the bottom step. “Where’s Naomi?”
“She went home,” I said.
“Oh.” Her eyes rested on Justin again. “What are you two doing down here?”
“Justin was teaching me how to play piano.”
“Don’t you have homework to do?”
“I finished most of it at school.”
“Well, come on, then. It’s getting cold.” She headed back up the steps, leaving the door open. “Juliana!”
I tucked my hair behind my ear and stared hard at my hands. They were still shaking. “Um, sorry. You should probably go, but…”
He moved closer to me again. “But?”
“I don’t really want you to.”
Grandma yelled for my mom again.
“What?” Mom asked. It sounded like they were moving into the kitchen.
“Andrea is down there alone. With that boy.” Even my grandma’s whispers carried.
“Oh, for Christ sake, Mom. So what?”
The corner of Justin’s mouth curved up, but he covered it.
“Go ahead and laugh,” I said. “My grandma is a freak.”
“I’m sorry if I got you in trouble,” he said.
Mom jogged down the stairs before I could answer. She grinned when she caught me smoothing my hair back. “Hey, Justin.”
He smiled and waved at her.
“Sorry about my mom,” she said. “She doesn’t mean to be rude. She’s just—”
“It’s cool,” he said, glancing at me. “I get it.”
“You’re welcome to stay for dinner.”
He studied my face before answering. “Sure, okay. Thanks.”
Mom winked at me before turning around and heading back upstairs. My face burned.
“My grandma’s cooking is really bad. I mean, like mushy vegetables and stuffed pork chops bad.”
Justin put his hand over mine, tangling our fingers together. “I grew up with a bad cook, remember? I can handle it.”
I twirled my spoon in Grandma’s version of vegetable stew. This included no salt, gravy like water, and a bitter aftertaste. She’d chosen twelve-grain bread as a side dish. It was untoasted and stale around the edges.
Grandma discussed the art of grocery store coupons with Mom, while Justin and I took turns kicking and dodging each other’s feet. My stomach fluttered every time I caught his eye.
“I warned you,” I said, motioning to his barely touched stew.
He put a finger to his mouth and shook his head.
“That’s a nice car you have out there, Justin,” Grandma said. “Are you going to pay your parents back for it?”
He swallowed a chunk of potato. “It was a birthday gift.”
“How about some salt?” Mom asked, frowning at the stew.
“You’re past forty now,” Grandma said. “Menopause is right around the corner. Sodium is the last thing you need.”
Justin used that moment to wipe his mouth, but his eyes crinkled at the corners.
“Your candor is always appreciated, Mother.” She rolled her eyes and grabbed the salt from the cabinet.
Grandma nodded at Justin. “Who pays for your insurance?”
“I do.”
“How old are you—sixteen?”
“Seventeen.”
“Your rates must be sky high.” She then launched into a lecture about the auto industry and insurance rates. Grandma loved to educate people about money, even though she’d always been a homemaker.