Chapter Eighteen
Trill: a rapid, usually unmeasured alternation between two adjacent notes
Damian
“Hey, Damian,” Zeke greets me as I come through the door, making a quick pit stop for lunch before my afternoon classes. Charlie has a noon class on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and I have class at one, so we don’t usually see each other till late afternoon. Even later today, since I have Strings Seminar on Wednesdays at four.
“Hey, Zeke. What’s up?”
He holds up a thick envelope, hand addressed in fancy script. “This one’s yours. We all got ‘em.”
I reach out and take it, dropping my backpack on the floor against the end of the couch. “What is it?”
“It’s an invitation. To Gabby’s wedding to that popstar guy.”
“Jonathan.”
Zeke scratches his chest. “I thought his name was Jonny B?”
Nodding, I slide my finger under the flap of the envelope. “Yeah. That’s his stage name. Gabby always called him Jonathan when she talked about him, though.” Pulling out the interior envelope, I narrow my eyes at Zeke. “Why’d she invite you if you can’t even be bothered to learn her fiancé’s name?”
Zeke shrugs, and I smirk. “I’ve never met the dude. Have you?”
I nod, looking over the invitation, my eyes snagging on the plus one option, a smile taking over my face. “Yeah. I met him once. He seemed nice. He cares about Gabby. Makes her happy. That’s what matters, right?”
With a nod, Zeke indicates the invite. “Yeah. I guess so. You gonna go? It’s in California the first week of Christmas break.”
I look at the date on the card and pull out the little sheet of paper with the instructions on how to book a room at the resort, which is only available for wedding guests. My eyebrows climb my forehead. But I guess when you’re marrying a celebrity, these are the kinds of things you do.
“Maybe. The first week of break means we’ll be back in time for Christmas.” I shrug. “Not like I have a full schedule over the break. Practicing for my recital and the spring concerto competitions. I can spare a few days to see a friend get married.”
“Yeah. True. That resort’s not cheap, though.”
“You already looked at it?”
He cracks a grin. “That was the first thing that I did. It’d be fun, though. Swanky resort. Bring Tamara. You gonna bring Charlie if you go?”
I nod, my gaze falling to the invitation again. They’re requesting donations to a charity in lieu of wedding gifts. I suppose that they have enough money to buy whatever they might need already. And they spend most of their time on a bus or in hotels, so it’s not like they need the traditional gifts of china or towels or whatever. No need to register at Target or Bed Bath and Beyond.
I haven’t been to a wedding where I didn’t play in years. Even my sister had me get a quartet together to play her wedding last year. It’d be fun to see Gabby again. Plus a weekend away with Charlie before we go our separate ways for Christmas break? Who’d say no to that?
If we split a room, it’d be more affordable. Maybe …
I’ll have to take a look at the money details and talk to Charlie. But if we can swing it, I want to make it happen.
Later that night, I’m naked in Charlie’s bed, spooning her, running my hand over the silky skin of her torso. It’s been over a week since we first made love, and we’ve fallen into an easy routine where we spend our days in class and doing homework, sometimes getting together for a quick lunch or study session, practicing, then dinner together with naked time after. She still plays those chord progressions, usually at the end of her practice time. I hear her when I finish practicing and go retrieve her from her practice room. Sometimes I stand at the door and listen for a few minutes, seeing if she’s doing anything different. The last few nights her playing has started to take more melodic shape than just a series of chords sliding into one another. It’s interesting. But when I ask her about it, she brushes off my question and insists she’s just messing around.
Soon I’ll have to extricate myself from Charlie’s embrace to practice again tonight. I’m recording my audition for the Gem State Concerto Competition next week. The recital hall is reserved for the recording, and my teacher will be there to make sure we get the best take possible.
But for now, I’m sleepy and sated, relishing the soft give of Charlie’s body against mine.
She sighs and snuggles back into me, the sound a combination of contentment and something else. My hand brushes up her rib cage again then slides around her, squeezing her against me. “Everything okay?”
I feel her nod more than see it because of the way her head is tucked under mine. She scoots away from me a little and turns onto her back. I prop my head on my hand, looking down at her, enjoying the way the soft light from her lamp plays over her features, tinging them with a golden glow that makes her seem even more ethereal and otherworldly.
A crooked smile tips up one side of her mouth, drawing my attention to her pink lips, still slightly swollen from our fevered kisses. “I don’t want you to go.”
“Ah.” I brush the hair off her forehead, running my fingers down her cheek and leaning in for a kiss. “I’ll come back when I’m done practicing. Or you could come with me. Practice too or do homework or whatever you need.”
She nods, her gaze going abstract. “Yeah. I think I will. I’m not ready to go yet, though.”
“Me either.”
Her arms wrap around my torso, and I lay back down, holding her to me again. If this goes on much longer, I’ll be gearing up for round two, which I don’t object to on principle. But I’d rather wait till later when I don’t have the specter of practicing hanging over my head. That can be my reward for ripping myself from her bed to get work done.
“So I got something interesting in the mail today.”
“Oh yeah?”
I nod, releasing her, and she scoots over to lie on her side, propping her head on her hand like I was doing a second ago, our positions now reversed. I both miss having her against me and am grateful for the slight distance to keep my dick from getting hard again. Though the way the sheets slip down, revealing her soft pink nipples, the only way to prevent that may be to get dressed and leave.
“Remember Gabby? Lauren’s roommate before you? I think you said you met her once, right?”
Something flashes in her eyes, and she drops her gaze to her hand on the bed between us, sucking her lower lip into her mouth as she nods. “Yeah. We’ve met. I remember her. What about her?” Her blue eyes are more distant than usual when they meet mine again.
Weird. Maybe it’s because they met before Charlie came to Marycliff. And I know she doesn’t like thinking or talking about her life before when she was working with her parents. So I push on, glossing over that.
“I got an invitation to her wedding. It’s the first week of Christmas break.”
Charlie’s eyes widen and her nostrils flare as she sucks in a breath, but then her controlled face slips on. “Oh?”
I narrow my eyes at her. “What’s that face?”
“What face?” She gives me a look of such guileless innocence that it’s hard to believe she’s hiding something.
I shake my head slowly, reaching a hand up to cup her cheek. “You looked … I dunno. Surprised, maybe? Then it was like you shut down all emotion in your face. Did you not like Gabby when you met her?” That seems unlikely. Gabby’s sweet and friendly. I can’t imagine someone disliking her on the basis of one meeting. But maybe she was having a bad day. It happens.
Charlie shakes her head, dislodging my hand. “No. I like Gabby fine. I obviously don’t know her the same way you or Lauren do, but she was always nice to me, and she seems good for Jonathan.” She presses her lips together and rolls them between her teeth like she’s stopping herself from saying anything else. Or regretting what she’s already said.
I prop myself on my elbow, my eyes skating over her. But she’s back to not giving anything away. She does this sometimes. Usually when someone prods at her life before Marycliff. I’ve discovered that she opens up easier if I come at the topic sideways. She’ll let little details of her life slip out before she realizes it and changes the subject. So I don’t push. Pushing straight on gets me nowhere. As evidenced by this conversation.
“Okay. Like I said, I got an invitation to their wedding.”
“Are you planning on going?”
I reach for her hand, threading our fingers together. “I’d like to. And I’d like you to come with me.” Her eyes widen again, but this time she’s smiling instead of locking down her face. “It’s in California. We can either drive down together, or I can watch out for deals on airfare. The hotel’s on the expensive side, but if we stay together and split the cost of the room, I think I can manage it. Would you be interested?”
Her smile grows even wider, and she leans in to kiss me. “I’d love to go with you.”