Chapter Six
Gabby
The key rattling in the deadbolt lets me know Lauren’s home. I lift my head from my theory homework as she walks in. “Hey.”
She drops her backpack next to her desk, which is pushed against mine, and plops down in her chair. “Here you are. I saved you a spot at dinner, but you never showed.”
I sit back and drop my pencil on the manuscript paper where I’m sketching out chord progressions in root position and first and second inversions for theory class tomorrow. Not very exciting, but it does cement the notes in my head for all the chords in C major. “Sorry. I meant to text you. I got … sidetracked.”
Lauren raises her eyebrows. “Do tell.”
I shift my mouth from side to side while I decide what I want to say. She freaked out for days after I met Jonathan in the coffee shop and then he came to the recital. Is she going to go nuts again?
“Um, I ran into Jonathan in the music building, and he wanted to have dinner with me.”
She lets out a squeal and sits down on my bed, face avid. “Okay. Tell me everything.”
Laughing at her excitement, I push my notebook away and fill her in on the events of the evening.
When I’m done, she studies my face, her eyes narrowing. “Earlier this week you were moping that he hadn’t called or texted, even though he asked for your number. Why aren’t you more excited about this?”
I fiddle with my mechanical pencil, clicking out the lead, then pushing it back inside, considering the question. Lauren waits patiently. “I dunno. I mean, we had a nice dinner, and he paid like it was a date, right? He even opened my door for me, which I know guys around here don’t do.” I let out a sigh, feeling kind of dumb to admit this, but needing to get it out anyway. “But after the recital we held hands while we walked. I thought maybe he was going to kiss me at one point.” I spread my hands in a helpless gesture. “And tonight? Nothing. No touching at all. I guess I’m just confused. Was it a date? Or does he just want to be friends?”
Lauren’s eyebrows scrunch together and she stares into the distance as she thinks. “Hmm.” She strokes her chin like a man strokes his beard. She calls it her existential beard, and she does that whenever she’s thinking about something.
I wait, hoping she’ll come up with something wise and insightful. I mean, if you’re going to have an existential beard it might as well be useful, right?
“I don’t know,” she finally says.
Apparently not so useful after all. I wave my hands in her direction. “After all that, all you got is ‘I don’t know’?”
She shrugs, pulling out her ponytail and running her fingers through her auburn hair. “You’re the one who’s spent all this time talking to him. I met him for like five seconds. All I really know about him is what they printed in teeny bopper mags six years ago. What do you think? Did you ask him?”
I shake my head and look down at my homework. I’ve been puzzling over the question of whether or not tonight was a date since I got back. Music theory has been providing some distraction, but even with that my thoughts keep slipping back to our evening together. “He said he couldn’t stop thinking about me.”
“Well, there you go. That sounds like a date to me.”
I shrug, tired of going in circles about this. “Yeah, maybe.”
Eyebrows raised, Lauren asks, “Did you make any new plans?”
“Sort of. I mean, I offered to listen to a song he’s working on, and he said he’d text me to set something up.”
“Hmm. Interesting.”
There’s a sly quality to her voice that has me eyeing her suspiciously. “What?”
“I dunno. It sounds like a way to get a girl in your bedroom. I think he likes you.” She says the last part in a singsong voice, making me laugh.
“Okay, fine. I’ll let you know what happens if he actually has me listen to his song.” I pull my papers closer to me again. “Have you finished our theory homework? Because I’m only half done.”
Lauren lets out a groan. “No. I’ll get mine out and do it too. You can help me if I get confused.”
I chuckle and go back to making little ovals on the staff paper in front of me and labelling the chords and their inversions. Lauren sighs loudly again as she sits at her desk across from me, bending her head to do the same homework.
It’s a good thing that we get along, since we’re both violin performance majors. In addition to sharing a room, we have half our classes together. But it’s nice to have someone to commiserate with about early classes, theory homework, and our sight singing professor. Even if she isn’t much help figuring out what’s going on with Jonathan. I think he’s the only one who can clue me in anyway.
I check my phone while I lean against the column in front of the performing arts center waiting for Jonathan. No new emails or Facebook notifications in the last ten seconds since I looked at it. I’d read, but he should be here any second. So instead, I’m fidgeting.
He texted me the day after our dinner and asked when I was free today to listen to his song. I have orchestra rehearsal until five, so he said he’d pick me up after, we could grab some dinner and go back to his place.
When I showed Lauren the texts, she gave me a knowing look and a sly smile. “You’re going to his place to listen to his song?”
“Yeah.”
She shoved my shoulder. “Yeah you are. Make sure he wraps it up.”
Laughing, I shook my head. “I doubt that’s going to happen.”
“Mmmhmm,” was all she said.
Speaking of Lauren, she comes out of the building as Jonathan’s car pulls into the parking lot. She stops next to me, her eyes tracking the car as it pulls to a stop in front of the sidewalk where we’re standing.
“Your chariot awaits.”
“Shut up, Lauren.”
She cracks up. “Seriously, have fun. See what happens. Don’t stress too much. Maybe he just wants to have you listen to something he wrote. Maybe he wants more.” Her eyebrows bounce up and down. “Just know what you want out of it.”
The passenger door pops open from the inside, and Jonathan leans over so he can see me through the opening. “Ready?”
“Ready.” Before I climb in, I turn and give Lauren a wave. “See you tonight.”
She gives me a cheeky grin. “Sure. I won’t wait up, though.”
I open my mouth to say something back, but before any words come out, she’s headed off toward the center of campus. Shaking my head, I slide into Jonathan’s car and close the door, immediately enveloped in the subtle, spicy scent of his cologne. It’s nice, though, not overwhelming.
One of the male vocalists in my classes bathes in cologne. You can seriously track him through the building by following the smell.
Jonathan uses a lighter hand. And a lighter scent. The effect is inviting and sensual.
“Hey,” he says, giving me a smile.
It isn’t the same practiced smile he gave me at the coffee shop when we met or Lauren at the recital. The one that was on all the posters I had of him when I was twelve. This smile is more private. More genuine. Like it’s just for me.
I smile back, warmth spreading from my chest. I really like this guy. The crush I had on him as a twelve year old is nothing compared to now, now that I’ve met him and gotten to know him a little.
And I’m suddenly nervous, partly hoping that Lauren’s right, partly afraid she is, and partly worried that he just wants to be friends after all. But he said he couldn’t stop thinking about me.
That’s not the kind of thing you say to a friend.