Sometimes you have to play love by ear.
Fever Pitch
© 2014 Heidi Cullinan
Love Lessons, Book 2
Aaron Seavers is a pathetic mess, and he knows it. He lives in terror of incurring his father’s wrath and disappointing his mother, and he can’t stop dithering about where to go to college—with fall term only weeks away.
Ditched by a friend at a miserable summer farewell party, all he can do is get drunk in the laundry room and regret he was ever born. Until a geeky-cute classmate lifts his spirits, leaving him confident of two things: his sexual orientation, and where he’s headed to school.
Giles Mulder can’t wait to get the hell out of Oak Grove, Minnesota, and off to college, where he plans to play his violin and figure out what he wants to be when he grows up. But when Aaron appears on campus, memories of hometown hazing threaten what he’d hoped would be his haven.
As the semester wears on, their attraction crescendos from double-cautious to a rich, swelling chord. But if more than one set of controlling parents have their way, the music of their love could come to a shattering end.
Warning: Contains showmances, bad parenting, Walter Lucas, and a cappella.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Fever Pitch:
Giles tuned the instrument, then taught Aaron how to bow, when to use his wrist and when to lift his arm. While it wasn’t exactly necessary Giles touch Aaron’s arm to help him move it correctly, it certainly didn’t hurt his education.
He didn’t complain, either, when Giles lingered a little longer than the demonstration warranted.
Aaron was, of course, a natural. He winced when his first attempt at bowing elicited a screech, but it wasn’t long before he knew how to produce a crisp, clear sound.
“Good job,” Giles told him. “You’ll do well with fingering too. Kids use tapes when they learn, but with your ear you won’t take long to pick it up.”
“It’s so clear.” Aaron pulled a long, strong A, then an E. “This has to be more Henrietta than me.”
“She’s not a cheap date, no. She was my birthday, Christmas, and—” He stopped himself from saying get-out-of-the-hospital-for-the-second-time present. “She was expensive, so she has great sound. But the player still has to bring it, or she won’t sing.”
Aaron played a few more notes, riding the four strings up and down. “I love orchestras. Strings make me shiver.” He stole a shy glance at Giles. “When you play the double bass for Salvo, I get chills every time.”
Never, ever would Giles have guessed he could get so hard talking violin. “I’m a lot better on Henrietta.”
Aaron’s cheeks flushed with color. “I’d love to hear you play sometime.”
Sweet baby Jesus. Giles wanted to put Henrietta on the chair and push Aaron to the floor. “I’ll play for you right now. But let’s give you a chance to shine first. How about I teach you a song?”
From Aaron’s reaction, Giles would have thought he’d offered to give him a million dollars. “Can I learn ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’?”
“Too tricky for your first attempt. I was thinking more ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’. It only uses two strings, and it has the benefit of teaching you a lot of fingering at the same time.”
This lesson involved more touching as Giles helped Aaron apply his fingers to the board, showing him the right pressure and position. As he’d anticipated, Aaron had no trouble keeping his notes on pitch, and Giles only had to explain the very basics before Aaron taught himself the song. When he finished, he laughed and flourished his bow, flush with pride.
Giles clapped and grinned. “Well done, maestro.”
“Thanks. That was fun.” Aaron passed Henrietta and the bow over. “Let’s hear the real deal now, though.”
Giles tucked Henrietta to his shoulder, his fingers sliding easily into position on the bow. “What do you want to hear?”
“Anything.” Aaron settled into his chair. “Pop, classical—anything. Though—if you know anything with the plinky-plinky sound?” He mimed plunking strings on an imaginary violin.
“Pizzicato? Sure.” He plucked a few arpeggios, stomach flipping at the way it made Aaron smile. “Now the question is, do you want something classical and official, or do you want me to make you giggle when I play ‘TiK ToK’ pizzicato?”
Aaron burst out laughing. “Shut up. Seriously?”
Giles grinned. “I’ll consider that a request for Ke$ha.”
He launched into the song, and Aaron laughed so hard he fell sideways. But when Giles started to lower his violin, Aaron waved him on as he wiped his eyes and rose, heading to the piano. “Keep going. I have an idea.”
Giles started the song over, and goddamn if Aaron didn’t pound out harmony on the piano like the music was in front of him. Not wanting to appear a slouch, Giles stepped up his game, adding some flourishes whenever he could. Aaron kept playing, never missing so much as a note.
“Now switch,” Giles called out as they cleared the bridge. “You pizz on the piano, and I’ll bow the harmony.”
Aaron frowned, but it was a stare of concentration. “There’s no such thing on the piano. How do I—?” Then he grinned. “Got it. Go.”
Giles tried to keep his brain three steps ahead of his fingers, working out the harmonics before he played them, wanting both accuracy and elegance, because of course Aaron brought both. Aaron’s “pizzicato” was staccato beats in the upper register, sometimes with harmony added, sometimes not. Sweating, Giles did his best to keep up, a task difficult partly because of the notes, partly because it took everything in him not to break out in giggles. Though as soon as they finished the song with a ridiculous flourish, they both bust out laughing.
“That was awesome.” Aaron wiped at his eyes. “Oh, shit—I want to do more.”
“What about ‘100 Years’? It gives good pizz. Do you know it?”
Aaron stared at him, his look unreadable.
Giles faltered. Was he pissed? Annoyed? “I— Sorry—”
He stopped as Aaron grinned and rolled his eyes before his fingers moved over the opening bars with the precision of someone who’d long ago memorized the song.
Oh. The look had been incredulity, Aaron insulted at the idea he didn’t know the song.
Grinning, Giles joined in, playing pizzicato through the first verse, but as Aaron filled out his harmony, Giles started bowing.
When they hit the chorus, Aaron began to sing.
Giles didn’t know why Aaron’s vocals hit him so hard—it wasn’t because he crushed on him, though that didn’t help anything. It wasn’t so much that Aaron’s voice was some kind of perfect harmonic, though it was. A million people had great voices, though.
Not many opened a vein quite like Aaron.
Giles stopped worrying about looking good and focused on the spaces the piano couldn’t cover, never overpowering Aaron’s voice but rather lifting him up, easing the spaces between the notes so when he sang, he soared even higher. Giles forgot about making mistakes, forgot about everything in the world that wasn’t playing with Aaron.
When the song ended, they held still, gazes locked, hands frozen on their instruments.
Aaron broke the silence, his voice soft and heavy. “‘With or Without You’?”
Giles lifted his bow and glided gently into the lead.
The magic of the moment let them play like gods. Giles rose through the song as Aaron put in a gentle baseline, just enough color to finish things off. Aaron took up the vocal melody, soft and sweet, his pretty tenor resting oh so tenderly on each note. He turned the song into a lullaby, ignoring all bait to belt, which only made the vocals more powerful. It was so beautiful Giles had to close his eyes.
I love him. His heart swelled and spilled over as they rounded into the final chorus. I’m so in love with him I can’t even ask him out. I want to lie at his feet, want to smooth out all the wrinkles in his life and make everything okay.
I can’t ever tell him, because if I’m wrong, if somehow he doesn’t want me, my life would be over. I’d rather have this than nothing.
Someone as wonderful as him can’t want someone as awkward as me. There’s just no way. There’s no fucking way that’s real, no matter how much I want it to be.
Aaron closed off the song with a chord—with a soft pull on Giles’s bow, it was done.
The music hung in the air between them.
Giles lowered his instrument. At the piano Aaron let his fingers fall from the keys.
They stared at each other, breathing hard but silent, neither wanting to break the spell.
He’s waiting for you to ask him out.
I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.
The door to the rehearsal hall opened. Giles and Aaron startled, turning away from each other as if they’d been caught kissing, not staring. It was one of the other quartets coming in to practice, and the members greeted them both warmly, apologizing if they were interrupting.
“No problem,” Aaron told them. But he cast one last longing glance at Giles.
I can’t. Except there was nothing, nothing in the world Giles would rather do.