Sarah frowned, eyeing the musical beast we sat at like it had offended her. I tapped her temple, and she looked back at me.
“You know how to play,” I said. “You know the music, the scales, the keys, the notes. You have all of that knowledge, but you don’t trust it. You think about it every time you sit down to play instead of trusting that your fingers will catch up to your mind if you just let it run free.” I shrugged. “Who cares if the way you play isn’t technically correct, if it leaves the audience stunned and begging for more?”
She nodded, but her brows were still furrowed, and I could see the doubt lining every crease of her skin.
“Look,” I said, turning more toward her. My left knee touched her thigh with the motion, and her eyes flicked down before she looked at me again. “Certain trees yield certain types of fruit, right? No matter what you do, an apple tree is never going to give you lemons.”
She nodded.
“Well, that’s how it is with the piano. It will never help, nor hurt you. It will give you exactly what it has always given you, time and time again. It doesn’t change.” I leaned down a bit, capturing her gaze. “But you do. You learn and grow, and become better. In the same breath, though, I’ll point out that you are also a product of what has happened to you on the specific day you sit down to play, as we all are. If you approach the piano impatiently or impetuously, it’s going to show. But, if you come intelligently, patiently, and with an open mind, an open approach to how you play?” I shrugged. “Well, you might just be lucky enough to be called a freak by one of your students one day.”
Sarah closed her eyes on a snort-laugh, shaking her head. I chuckled, too — but that noise died in my throat when she opened her eyes again.
Her gaze lingered on mine, both of our smiles slipping away as an unfamiliar weight pressed on us. She’d never looked at me like that before, though I couldn’t place what was different about it. All I knew in that moment was that I couldn’t look away.
She glanced at my lips, and in the first time in two years, a line of heat scorched a path from the back of my neck all the way down my spine. Warnings flashed in bright, hot neon somewhere in my mind, but they were muted, the present moment too loud to hear anything else.
Sarah’s lips parted, her next breath touching my own, and it was like that whisper of air broke the spell I’d been under.
I swallowed, breaking all contact as I stood and crossed the room.
“Work on this piece tonight, and we’ll try it again tomorrow,” I said, pretending to look through the folder that held my lesson plans. My heart was thundering under my ribcage so loud it might as well have been the percussion line in a high school band.
Sarah didn’t move at first, and when she finally did, it was like she was in a daze as she slowly gathered her things and packed them away in her messenger bag.
She slung it over her shoulder, and I turned, smiling at her like everything was fine. “See you tomorrow?”
“See you tomorrow,” she said, returning my smile, but I felt the uncertainty of it as she turned and let herself out.
As soon as she was gone, I dropped the folder on top of the piano with a slap, taking a seat on the bench with my hands running back through my hair.
What the actual hell, Reese?
It made sense for Sarah to look at me like that, to think that she maybe wanted to know what it felt like for her teacher to kiss her. It was normal. She was a young girl, we were spending nearly every day with one another, and we both had to be vulnerable to work together. It was the nature of the agreement we’d entered into.
But it was my responsibility not to let it go past that.
Maybe she had a crush. I involuntarily smiled at that, and then shook my head so hard I nearly broke my neck to reprimand myself.
No.
I said that one word as loud as I could out loud, then repeated it mentally as my hands moved to the keys, playing nothing and something all at once. It was similar to the song I’d played after the first time I’d met Sarah, but something in it had shifted, revealing a more dramatic, emotional element beneath the notes than I’d originally played.
I let myself get lost in that melody, in that piece of music being brought to life by my hands. And all the while, I reminded myself where our boundaries existed.
Maybe she had a crush. Maybe she wanted to kiss me.
Maybe I wanted to kiss her.
I let out an audible growl, playing with more gusto as I shook my head again.
No, Reese.
I thought of Charlie, of her and Cameron, of the way I’d given my heart to her even though I knew hers wasn’t for the taking. Sarah was off limits to me in the same manner. She was my student, and she trusted me to be her teacher — nothing more. I wouldn’t take advantage of the vulnerable place I had her in, in the time she was forced to spend with me.
I wouldn’t mistake that vulnerability for actual feelings, because I’d learned that lesson once before.
And once was all it took.
A crush was one-sided, as long as I didn’t entertain it. And that’s what I had to remind myself.
It was in my hands, our relationship. I had to draw the lines, trace them with a permanent marker, and constantly be the one to point them out. It didn’t matter that I wanted to kiss her, too. It didn’t matter that every day made it more and more impossible to look at her and see a girl, a student, instead of the captivating young woman and artist she was.
I existed in her life to help her reach her goals in piano, and that’s what I would do. It was my job. It was my responsibility — both to her and to myself.
I liked our routine. I liked being her teacher, and I liked that she trusted me to teach her. That was what mattered most. That was what I would do anything to protect.
And I sealed that sentiment with the last notes of a song she was creating inside me.
One she’d never know about.
Sarah
I tried to let go, tried to focus on my breathing and nothing else as I followed the guidance of Deepak Chopra. His voice was calming, smooth and steady as it floated through my Bluetooth speaker. He asked me to set an intention, to repeat that intention when other thoughts made their way into my meditation. My mom sat on her mat in Atlanta, meditating with me over a video chat, and I even tried to channel her focus in an attempt to keep my own.
But for twenty-two minutes, instead of clearing my mind and re-centering my spirit, all I did was think about Reese Walker.
It was the first day in a full month that I hadn’t seen him. If I wasn’t sitting in his home, at his piano, I was watching him play as I bussed tables at The Kinky Starfish. But, today was Wednesday, which meant no lessons. And I had the night off from work, too.
I had no idea what to do with myself.
Though it was still technically spring, summer seemed to be in full bloom in Pennsylvania now that school was out, and I often played at Uncle Randall’s piano with the curtains drawn so I could watch all the life happening outside the window. There were mothers pushing their newborns in strollers, laughing as they caught up on the latest gossip. There were kids riding their bikes up and down the street, dogs chasing their wheels, cars slowly passing by with camping gear strapped to the top. The weather was hot, the days were long, and everyone, it seemed, was happy.