Chapter 5
Unfortunately, I didn’t see Gavin on Thursday. Not for lack of trying. I stood outside in the halls after class, chatting with Emmy for as long as possible, before I either had to head to another class or leave campus.
“Okay, don’t look now, but he’s behind you to your left.” Emmy’s persistent teasing both annoyed and entertained me. I nonchalantly turned my head behind me, only to hear Emmy giggling. “Oh, you’ve got it bad,” she declared.
“So not funny, Emmy.” I whacked her with my sight-singing folder.
“I thought it was.” Emmy’s snigger turned into a full out snort. She turned serious. “WTF, email him or something. Tell him you’re struggling with your play and sings.”
“But I’m not. At least not yet. It’s only been a day, for frick’s sake.” Emmy’s locker made a not very soft, though sturdy, place to rest my head.
“Okay, fine. Torture yourself all you want.”
“I’m not torturing myself. I don’t know. I don’t want to fling myself on him like everyone else is doing and make an ass of myself. We still don’t know if he has a girlfriend.”
She pointed down the hall, a signal for us to mosey to our next class.
“Well, there’s only one way to find out. Ask him. And what if he doesn’t? He’ll never know you’re interested if you don’t let on you’re interested,” she answered.
“Yes, thank you for the relationship advice, Dr. Emmy.”
She patted my back. “Dr. Emmy at your service.” She bowed. “Besides, if I’m not getting any, at least I can help you along.”
Looking down at my deformed folder, I hadn’t realized how tight I clutched it until after she made references to sex. Smoothing the folder out, my retort echoed my lack of confidence. “Not even close to ready.”
She clucked her tongue. “When you are ready, say the word. I’ll be your wingman.”
Friday couldn’t come fast enough. I’d finally get to see Gavin again, though I couldn’t predict how we’d behave around each other. My confidence edged close to ninety percent that he forgave me for my crappy behavior during Monday’s lunch at Groove. We weren’t exactly bosom buddies, either.
I arrived at the classroom and noticed everyone already seated. There were three new students, including Gavin, in the studio.
Each year, the department forced Mickelson to take at least two new students. Although each year he complained he had too many. Said it cramped his style and remained a disservice to the students because he couldn’t get enough one-on-one time.
Like he actually did one-on-one time with us on a regular basis. I think maybe he couldn’t be bothered with advising too many students. It took away from his creative mojo and time spent on his own work.
“Louise, good of you to join us. With”—Mickelson squinted toward the clock on the wall—“two minutes to spare.” He nodded toward an empty chair in the last row behind Gavin.
“Sorry,” I offered even though class didn’t start for another two minutes. True, Mickelson’s brilliance created one of the most coveted composition studios, but with his brilliance came a lot of weirdness. I never predicted what kind of mood he’d be in, though it was always entertaining, if not coherent.
“Apology not accepted because it’s not required. You weren’t late. But you were almost, which is almost bad, but not quite.”
We introduced ourselves and this time, I ended up going last rather than first. I forced my eyes to scan the entire classroom, attempting nonchalance toward Gavin. Difficult with him practically next to me. Nerves engulfed me, along with the inevitable awkward conversation in these types of situations.
At least I’d be comfortable in my black athletic skort and solid periwinkle tank. I’d take comfort over style any day, though Sierra would say if I wanted to catch a guy’s attention, spending more than two minutes putting myself together in the morning was a prerequisite.
Mickelson walked us through the syllabus, pointing out the major full-orchestration composition piece due at the end of the semester. In addition, we had to compose minor pieces reflecting different subgenres of music like Movie Scores, Broadway, Symphonic Band, and Chamber Orchestra.
For our first assignment, we’d work in pairs and discuss our vision for our major piece. What mood would we try to portray? Who is the audience? Instrumentation? Large ensemble? Quartet? A mixture? While we weren’t marrying our idea today, our goal was to get our thoughts in the air and perhaps on paper.
With no one sitting next to me, I waited in silence, observing the classroom as people chose the person seated next to them. As the lone graduate student, Mickelson pulled Gavin aside and discussed his movie scores.
After a minute, Mickelson paused and turned toward me. “Louise? Are we not participating today?”
“Um. No sir. I mean, yes sir.” My lower lip disappeared behind my teeth.
“Well, then, I suggest you find a partner, which means you shall remove your bottom from the chair and use your legs for walking.”
He literally made a V with his first two fingers and swished them back and forth on the top of his palm.
“Yes. But―”
“No butts. Perhaps one lifting from the chair.” The finger walking halted, followed by a pointed finger air-circling the room.
I scanned the room one more time and saw everyone partnered. I stood up as my shoulders slumped a bit. “Should I form a triad with another group? Everyone already has a partner.”
“Nonsense. There are an even number of students in this class, there shouldn’t be an odd person out.”
Gavin suppressed a grin this time, catching my eye. We both waited for Mickelson to realize why I lingered without a partner.
I tried one more time. “Yes, sir.”
Mickelson took another look around, scrunched his face and then patted his lips with his forefinger.
“Ah yes. Quite right you are, Louise. Quite right. I suppose your butt doesn’t have to move after all. Here, you partner with Gavin and I’ll mosey around.”
I sat back down, and Gavin turned his desk to face mine. When Mickelson meandered toward the front of the room, we both smothered a snigger.
“He’s one of the best composers in the country.” Gavin reared his head behind to make sure Mickelson stayed at the front of the classroom. “But I suspect with his genius comes some interesting quirks.”
“Ya think?”
I still couldn’t figure out if Mickelson liked me or my writing. He rarely gave compliments to anyone. We all were in the dark until grades were released. But we were still in his studio. If he didn’t like you, he not-so-gently suggested you transfer to one of the other two composition professors.
“Right.” I tried sounding professional and mature, and not like a giggling school girl saying hi to my crush for the very first time. “Do you have another movie lined up? Where you can kill two birds with one stone on this assignment?”
Gavin watched me for a moment and nodded. “I’ve got something lined up.”
“Can you talk about it at all? At least tell me the type of movie it is? For our discussion today, of course.” My heart thumped. Navigating normal conversation with a man who made me lightheaded remained harder than I thought.
“Sure, but it’s top secret. I’ll have to kill you after I tell you,” he teased.
“Hm. Not sure today’s assignment is worth the mess. To be fair, the wrath of Mickelson can be frightening. But I’ll take life over death. Not to belittle your opportunity.” My arms crossed, resting on the table in front of me.
“Of course.” He winked.
OMG, he winked at me. Again. This now made two times he winked and yes, I counted. Later I’ll have to consult Emmy and Sierra on various meanings of winks.
“It’s for a historical war movie coming out in eighteen months,” Gavin mentioned.
“You can’t tell me the name?” As we both leaned in toward each other, I thought for sure he’d confide in me.
“Afraid not. But I’m sure if you googled it.” He cocked his head to the side and gave me a tight-lipped smile. Not a straight out reveal, but cryptic directions coupled with the chance to smell him up close.
For real, I started contemplating ways to figure out what soap he used again without seeming stalker weird. And what were we talking about? Right, his movie.
I responded, casting my investigation of his soap aside. “Ah. Got it. My lips are sealed but my fingers are just getting started. Later on, with my computer they will be.” I made the gesture of my fingers typing in the air. “When I google.”
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, what was wrong with me?
Gavin’s smile remained, but his eyes narrowed a bit more. “Okay, Louie. Promise me you won’t say anything? It’s supposed to be under wraps now. They have all these rules about when they can announce what with movies.”
“Uh, sure. I definitely wouldn’t. Does Nick know? Can I say something to him?”
Gavin shrugged. “Sure, he knows. I’m working on a couple songs with him.”
“Sweet.” I’d have choice words for Nick later. Can’t believe he didn’t tell me. “You’re doing the entire score?” I relaxed into the back of my chair as a short distance grew between me and the table. Gavin assumed a similar position and then leaned his arms against the edge of the table behind him.
“Yeah, I’m stoked. It’s my first complete film score.”
“Amazing. I mean. Sweet. Again.”
“Thanks.” He shrugged.
“I imagine you’ll be doing a lot of angry music or heavy beats?”
The more I soaked in his hotness and the sweet rich baritone of his voice, the more difficult coherent conversation became.
“Actually, a little of everything. There’ll be a lot of melancholy pieces throughout, but I get to have some reprieve with a couple of uplifting songs. And there’s a love story woven in, of course,” he answered.
“Of course.” I didn’t know what else to say because, maybe my imagination overreacted, but he stared way too intently into my eyes. Okay, maybe I stared more intently than him.
Regardless, the moment broke when he sat up in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. “What about you? What type of piece are you wanting to write for the final?”
I breathed deep and exhaled. Because the song I had performed on Monday was part of it. “Well, you already heard some of it in Gupta’s studio this week.”
“Ah.” He nodded a few times. “You have a lot of talent. It’s a little mysterious, but I like when music provides a window into a hidden world of its author. Something yours does.”
I think he complimented me?
“Will the entire piece have a similar tone and mood to it or will it vary?” he asked.
“I don’t know at this point. I know Mickelson likes us to have at least three movements for our final piece. At least for us undergrads. I suspect I’ll write something a little more upbeat for one of them, and then the final piece can be a compilation of the two with a nuance on the main melody.”
I refused to share my hidden world with Gavin, yet.
“Sounds good. It’s a beautiful piece, by the way. I’m sure you’ll find some creative ways to work with the melody. Will it be full orchestration?”
I tapped my pencil against my notepad and resisted twirling my fingers in his slightly wavy and disheveled hair.
“Lou?”
Shit, paused too long thinking about his hair. What did he ask? Oh, right. Orchestration. “I think it will be. Sort of building like a bolero, adding instruments in after each eight-measure count. I suppose I’m open to suggestions.”
“Well, I’m happy to bounce ideas with you, if you ever find yourself in a writer’s block.”
My attention peaked. “Yeah?” Did he want to spend time with me? Spend more time with me? Because he might have some smidgen of an interest in me?
Gavin squashed my string of wishful thinking. “I think Mickelson wants us to have a sparring partner throughout the semester. We originally were partners, but that would leave you without one.” Gavin shrugged. “I guess this means we’re together.”
“Oh, oh okay.” Hm. Not Gavin’s idea after all. He was already aware what Mickelson had planned, and because I sat near him, I guess it did make sense we’d end up as partners.
Mickelson interrupted our discussion and relayed what Gavin revealed moments earlier. “The person you are partnered with will be your musical soundboard for the remainder of the semester. Don’t abuse the relationship. Use it wisely. You all have multiple assignments and other classes to attend to. But don’t go it solo, either. Especially if you require feedback and a critical ear. Any questions?”
One of the seniors raised her hand. “Yes, Angelica?”
“No offense to my partner here, but can we switch at all or is it stuck in stone.” Angelica sat next to a new freshman, but her eyes wandered toward Gavin.
“No, no switching. We all have talent. And even a young freshman like Daniel, here, can provide excellent insight. Any other questions?” Sucked for Angelica, bonus for me.
We all surveyed each other and waited.
“No questions? Good, good. Class is dismissed. Next week I want eight measures of a main melody, single instrument is fine. See you next Friday.” Mickelson scratched his ear and ambled out of the classroom.
I leaned forward in my chair and sympathized with Gavin. “Looks like you were right. You’re stuck with me.”
He turned in his seat to face me and lifted a shoulder. “It’s not ideal, since I looked forward to working more closely with Dr. Mickelson, but”—he finished putting his notebook away and stood up—“you’re much prettier to look at than him.”
Should I have been offended? Because I wasn’t obviously as talented as Mickelson. Or because he thought me prettier than the old crotchety professor? Not a stretch, either. I remained mute and followed Gavin’s exit from the classroom.