Chapter 7
I sighed and leaned the side of my head into the doorjamb outside the tutoring room. Gavin played the most haunting melody I had heard in forever, though I wasn’t sure if it was F major or B flat major, which reinforced the whole reason why I needed tutoring.
The time on my cell phone read 11:56 am, but I didn’t want to disturb his playing. Instead, my mind replayed the events from Friday night at Groove, and my bizarre conversation with Matt. Matt had confirmed Victoria and Gavin were not fuck-buddies nor would they ever be.
“I still don’t know how you figured out they weren’t doing the nasty without asking him. She practically took up residence in his lap.”
I spent the rest of the evening avoiding Victoria’s general area while she basically eye-fucked both Gavin and Matt. Now from pure female objectivity, I couldn’t blame her. They were both quite attractive men.
“Observation, Holmes. He never reciprocated,” Matt announced.
“He didn’t discourage it either.” I may have sounded a little bit jealous.
“Because he’s a dude. It’s nice to get attention from a beautiful woman, and Victoria is pleasing to the eye. A bit of a bitch, but still nice to look at. Wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole, but there you have it. Seems like Gavin’s got his head screwed on straight and won’t be frequenting her used car lot.”
“Ouch, Matty. Mega-cold.”
“Cold, but true. She tries too hard and she’s insecure, which is a pity, ‘cause again, she’s hot. But us smart dudes, myself included, know not to encourage crazies like her.”
A few days after Groove, I had sat in Dr. Liz’s office, and discussed Gavin’s relationship status. Score one for Dr. Liz, zero for Louie. Pretty much the entire session had centered on Gavin, and my fear of letting him know of my attraction to him.
Because I feared putting myself out there as a sexual person or some other bullshit. Being asexual equaled never risking rejection.
Dr. Liz didn’t get paid the big bucks for nothing.
She had told me to continue journaling about all the anxiety-inducing stressors. I had responded I didn’t have enough time to write a thesis. After a five second glare, she had reiterated the importance of journaling. I would need several journal entries to prep for the EMDR I had yet to experience.
My thoughts returned to the hallway and Gavin’s playing when two freshmen girls stopped to listen. Both girls fanned themselves with their sheet music and discussed Gavin like he graced the cover of People magazine. I silently cursed their interruption of my private mini-concert.
“He is, oh my God, like the nicest guy ever, and so hot.” Girl number one tossed her brown hair over her shoulders.
“Oh my God, I know. He’s like a freaking God, nice and really really awesome,” mimicked the other, “and, famous too. His music is in movies and stuff.”
“Oh my God, I know. I can’t wait to see his movie.” Her hair flung again, this time to the other side.
“Me too, like I wonder if this piece is in it?” They stood on their tip-toes ogling at Gavin through the miniature glass window at the top of the door.
“I know, I bet it is.” They both audibly sighed, with the pitch starting high and falling with their breath.
“I’m so going to his office hours again this afternoon, like so doing it,” hair flinger said.
“Oh my God, so am I,” her little red-haired minion replied.
“Do you think he’s single?”
“Like he would even date us, but who cares, because, maybe he would? And we can still, like, look at him.” They gawked through the window again and giggled. My existence completely ignored.
I closed my eyes and thought, like oh my God, kill me now.
Was it too much to ask? Listening to Gavin’s playing without interruption? Apparently yes. The valley girl twins’ appearance spoke volumes.
“Wait, seriously, I want to have all his babies.” And there they went again.
“Oh my God, like, me too.”
I couldn’t take it anymore. I rolled my eyes and turned the knob, knowing my entrance would end the mini-concert and begin our tutoring session.
“You don’t have to stop.” Relieved doesn’t begin to describe hearing sounds other than like and oh my God.
“Oh, just fooling around waiting ‘til you arrived.” Even sitting down, Gavin dwarfed the upright piano. His body shifted to face me. “Did you have a nice remainder of your weekend?”
“I did, thanks. And you?” I meandered to the first row of the seating closest to the piano and pulled out my theory and sight-singing notebook from the backpack resting by my feet.
“Pretty good. Nick’s band is decent, by the way.”
I nodded. “They’ve been together for a few years now.”
“It shows. They jam well. All right, what are we working on today?” Gavin rubbed his hands together and waited. I swear, looking at him would never get boring.
Today his hair still had a disheveled toss to it. Complete with auburn highlights accentuated by his red T-shirt.
Did I mention how I could get lost watching those arm muscles flex as his fingers massaged the keys when he played?
I released a gust of air. “Transcribing blows major chunks.”
My face immediately contorted into my ‘missing link’ face Sierra eloquently labeled, where I puff air into my top lip, mouth still closed, and flare my nostrils. It’s not pretty but does make me wonder how close I am to a chimp or gorilla. And my DNA test did reveal I was three-point four percent Neanderthal.
“Transcribing it is.”
“Here’s the thing.” I leaned over the table in front of me like it was a life preserver. “I have no clue why I’d ever want to transcribe something because I can find the sheet music for it. And it’s not like I’m going to be sitting in a foreign country and hear this traditional song and think, ooh, I should transcribe this, which is ridiculous.
“I’m a composition major, and only want to write my own music and how the heck are you even supposed to know if it’s 2/4 or 4/4 time because let’s be honest, they sound pretty similar and—”
“Louise, breathe.” A half-smirk pasted on Gavin’s face, and my breath caught. Why did he have to look amaze-balls even with a semi-smile? Seeing a full smile might send me into orgasm. Okay, maybe not, but close.
Gorgeous didn’t do justice to describe his looks, with my brain forgetting to inform my mouth to shut up.
I stopped and considered him, made my monkey face again, and gave my nostrils a few more flares before I pointed at my face. “Missing link, right?”
His eyes crinkled at the corners and his belly shook, while my insides churned. Not cool, Lou, likening me to chimps.
“You’re not even close to a chimp or a gorilla. Trust me.” I now realized he found me more attractive than Dr. Mickelson and primates. Not anything to make a girl blush, but then again, did I want him to find me attractive? Obviously, I did, otherwise I wouldn’t care as much.
Though I couldn’t deny the idea of dating still brought on a gut reaction of fear mixed with an excess of perspiration. Being naked with a man proved impossible if images of me drenched in sweat overtook any sexy-time thoughts.
“I’m still an odd duck?” I asked. Because, let’s be real, I was.
He chuckled again. “Sure. Now, quit procrastinating, get out some blank staff sheets, and we’ll work on transcribing.”
“Before we start, one more thing.” Yes, call me the Queen of Procrastination. But, I wanted to know the answer to my next question. If the music school forced me to take these classes, having a little more understanding of direct application might help.
“Louise.”
“No, I’m curious. How often do you actually use this skill?”
“I don’t know. Fairly often. There are a lot of times when I hear a lick on a guitar or the bridge of a song and I want to know what the notes are to play it later, maybe add some harmonies or other instruments.”
“Ah, you’re one of those who actually geek out and do this?”
Yes, I stalled, and would continue to stall if it prevented me from the painful process of transcribing by ear.
“I do. Sometimes I want to change the pitch and see what it would sound like if I transpose it into a different key or maybe add some diminished chords to change the mood. It’s fun,” he said.
I thought he might look a little embarrassed after admitting to his musical geekitude, but no, it was like he told me he enjoyed cake because it tasted good.
“Yeaaah, um. Remind me not to call you when I want to do something fun or relaxing.” Naturally, being the queen of sexy-time, I gave him my best Pee-Wee Herman smile, bit my top lip, and nailed my eyes to my desk. I’d die a virgin and it’d all be my fault.
Realistically, how many heterosexual males fantasized about Pee-Wee Herman?
At least Friday night at Groove, the darkened room acted as a shield for me. Today? No such luck with the broad daylight and fluorescent lights exposing every blackhead dotting my nose.
“Okay, Ms. Procrastination. What exactly are you struggling with? Chords? Treble line, bass line or both together? Rhythms? Time signatures?”
I nodded during the entire list he provided.
“Yes to all of them?” he clarified.
“Yeah, unfortunately. How I ever passed my prior classes beats the shit out of me, too.”
“I’m sure you’re not as bad as you make yourself out to be. This is a prestigious conservatory, and I’m certain the professors wouldn’t have given you a passing grade for shits and grins.” He leaned against the piano again, resting his elbow on the now closed lid hiding the keys.
“Bribery?”
“You bribed your teachers?”
“Yeah, no. If you must know, I didn’t have a life and spent a butt-load of time with the last tutor, which took several years off my life, by the way. I’m hoping you don’t do weird things like, I don’t know, snort through your nose and swallow when you should be using a Kleenex or sit on your hands and then smell them or—”
“Okay, okay, got it. No weird bodily function antics and we’ll work on your confidence. Let’s start with chords and progress to an actual song.” Gavin lifted the lid again on the piano and placed his tanned fingers on the keys.
His long and graceful hands appeared next to the ivory. Based on how he played, he probably had more than enough experience using them with other extra-curricular activities.
Extra-curricular activities?
I shuddered. What the hell was wrong with me? Fantasizing about Gavin’s fingers offered zero hints on how to master chords, progressions, and harmonies.
Once my brain re-centered, transcribing swallowed me whole. The strain of hearing the melody and harmony he played on the piano caused my brain to throb like someone beating a gong. Though only four measures, each exercise took me almost fifteen minutes to work out. Made the chords seem easy in retrospect.
After the last one, Gavin sat at the desk to my right, while I finished off the final touches to the transcription. A miracle I finished, considering how his scent distracted me and invaded my personal space. All soapy clean mixed with musky male, and whatever other organic chemicals his body emitted.
Once I cleared my head and worked through a few more corrections, I dropped the notebook on the desk in front of Gavin. The notebook clapped when it contacted the surface. “I know I didn’t get everything but, it’s probably still not right.”
“Confidence is key. Quit doubting yourself, and trust you hear what is being played.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re getting a graduate degree in this shit, and I’m doing everything to not fail, finish my degree, and not lose my scholarship.” Crap. Too pissy?
“Hey, I’m trying to help out.” Gavin raised his arms in the air, surrendering. “You don’t have to get defensive every time you think you make a mistake. Besides, if you’re going to mess up, here’s the place to do it. I can help you if I know where you’re struggling. Once you’re in the classroom taking a test? You’re on your own. You don’t have a second chance. Why don’t you take a deep breath and believe in your abilities for once? They wouldn’t have given you a scholarship if you didn’t have talent.”
“What, are you my shrink now?” Yep, too pissy. I had no clue how to let my guard down, which made me even more flustered because he spoke the truth. I did have almost a full ride if I pulled a 3.20 GPA.
Mickelson offered the scholarship based on my original audition pieces. Maybe it wasn’t too late to remember talent existed, even if I buried talent beneath the anxiety of theory and sight-singing.
“Call me Dr. Phil.” He winked again, puncturing a hole in my carefully constructed barricade.
I gave in. I slumped a little lower in my seat and covered my face. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “I think I owe you more than one apology starting with the first week of classes.”
Gavin leaned over and nudged my shoulder. “Hey, everyone gets defensive. It’s human nature and I can tell you’re a perfectionist. Don’t beat yourself up.”
I pulled my hands away and tried to smile. “’Kay.”
“Apology accepted, by the way.”
“Thanks.” The air stilled, and I found myself highly uncomfortable sitting in silence with a man I had nightly X-rated dreams about.
I poked my transcription with my pencil and changed the subject. “How bad did I do?”
Gavin grinned and nodded once. “Well, let’s see how well you did.” Scanning the sheet, he circled things, wrote some comments, and returned it to me.
“You did well, look here.” He pointed at the treble clef line, first measure. “You began a step up, but everything was in key with the key you chose. Granted, I played in G major, you still got the rhythm and melody correct in the key of D.”
“Well, I guess I would have gotten partial credit, maybe?”
“You tell me, I’ve never had Haven before. Is she the type of professor who allows some leeway or does she demand precision?”
“Well, yes and no. She would have given me points for rhythm and dynamics, but key signature definitely not and no to the notes as well, because in her book they’re still wrong.” I pencil-doodled mini treble and bass clefs along the edges of the paper.
Gavin returned to the piano. “Okay, well, let’s practice identifying random notes on the piano.”
For the last five minutes of the tutoring session, I averaged about fifty percent when it came to hearing notes. My success rate? Less than awesome, but way better than zero.
I should have done some more self-quizzing at home over the summer but didn’t. Yeah, it was partially my fault I wasn’t stellar at hearing the notes.
“Nice job today.” Gavin paused. “Is it cool if I call you Lou?” he asked.
“Sure. I’ll answer to Lou, Louie, and Louise, though I only hear Louise when I’m being reprimanded or called on by a professor or administrator or telemarketer, whatever works.”
“Okay, good. Like I said, nice job today.” His lips curled up, showing me the results of his lovely dental hygiene. “I think we’ll get you there in no time.”
“Thanks, but you don’t have to say stuff to be nice. I know I missed the day they passed out the musical theory talent gene.” Days like this made it hard to remember I did in fact possess musical talent.
“I’m not just being nice. I can tell, you’ll do fine.”
“Don’t you have to give kudos to all the undergrads you tutor?” Knowing the department, it wasn’t a stretch to think he agreed to affirmations before signing his contract.
“Don’t get me wrong, I like to offer words of encouragement, but I don’t say anything I don’t mean.” Gavin stood up and reached for his backpack and pulled his water bottle out from the side pocket. “How’s your play and sing coming along, by the way?”
I gave him a meager smile. Pretty sure I’d pass but I recognized they were going to get harder as the semester progressed. “I’m ready for it, though I’m nervous about the next one.”
“Well, bring it in once you get it, and we’ll practice it.” He ran a hand through his hair and I shut my eyes for a moment, fantasizing what it would feel like to have my fingers cavorting in his locks. Soft and thick like fur on a cat. Or feathers on a chicken.
Focus Louie. We’re talking about play and sings, not which animal’s fur Gavin’s hair resembled.
“Okay, thanks.” I contemplated his thoughts on tutoring. “Do you ever get tired of tutoring the beginning levels?”
“Nah, no more than I do tutoring advanced levels.” Gavin stowed his pencils and dry erase markers in the front pocket of his black backpack.
“Fair enough.” Great, now I’m in the same playing field as the Valley girl twins.
Gavin guzzled water from his Nalgene. “It’s not been nearly as fun as tutoring you.” His words made me pause mid-grab for my own water bottle.
“Oh?” Oh. Okay. I think he said he liked spending time with me? Or he has fun with me? Or he has fun putting me through musical boot camp torture?
“You’re at a much higher level and I can throw in some fun combinations on the piano. Plus, you’re not nearly as silly as some of the freshmen.”
Okay, definitely the level of theory, not me personally. I sipped water from my water bottle. “Are you referencing the valley girls?”
“Like, Oh My God.” Gavin’s impersonation was spot-on.
Curses. Water stung when it invaded my sinuses.
“You know, I’m fairly certain one or both of the Valley-girl freshmen are your future wives, because they kept talking about having your babies right before this tutoring session, outside in the hallway.” I pointed toward the door and clapped. “Like, oh my God, Congratulations.”
Gavin slumped his head into his hands, leaned against the upright piano, and gave his face a good rub.
“Argghhhh,” he moaned, “kill me now.”
“Heavens, no. Your children would be fatherless.”
“Tell me they weren’t saying that?” Lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes.
I attempted the most somber expression. “Nah, they weren’t.”
“Really?” His shoulders relaxed, though a very silly grin replaced his faux-concern.
“Just kidding, they did.” I stifled a cackle, hoisted my backpack over both my shoulders, and offered my condolences. “Should be a fun session later this afternoon.”
“Payback’s a bitch you know.”
I opened the door mid-sentence, making it halfway out the door before I leaned back into the classroom.
“Like, oh my God.” I couldn’t resist and bolted toward my scheduled practice room.