Her boldness shouldn’t have surprised me — that was exactly how she’d always been. But for some reason, it made me feel uncomfortable that it was all taking place in front of Sarah this time.
Because she’s your student, I tried to convince myself.
I cleared my throat, forcing as much of a smile as I could manage. “We were actually just about to get going,” I said. “But it was nice seeing you.”
“Are you free this weekend?” Jennifer asked, ignoring my attempt to break free.
“Uh…”
“Come on,” she said, stepping a little closer. Bold as ever, she reached up and pulled a few blades of grass from my shirt, all the while staring at my lips in no effort to hide the thoughts that underlined her next sentence. “I’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?”
I stepped away from her, tight smile still in place. “You have. I’m sorry, I’m not avoiding you.” Lies. “I’ve just been really busy with lessons and work. But, let me check my schedule and I’ll give you a call.”
“This week,” she said.
It wasn’t a request.
“Um… sure. This week.”
“Great!” She seemed appeased, and she offered Sarah a big smile. “It was nice to meet you, sweetheart. Good luck with your studies.”
Jennifer’s eyes flicked to me quickly before she zeroed in on Sarah again, and without another word, she strutted off down the trail, her tiny dog following.
Sarah
The car ride back to Reese’s place was absolutely silent.
Reese hadn’t reached forward to turn on the radio, and neither of us had said a word since we climbed inside the car. Even Rojo was sound asleep in the back, tuckered out from the day at the park.
It didn’t matter that the car was completely quiet, because my thoughts were as loud as train whistles.
Jennifer Stinson had practically pissed on Reese in front of me, which shouldn’t have upset me as much as it did. She was his age. She was gorgeous, and clearly fit, and, apparently, they ran in the same circle. She’d be a great girlfriend for him, a great woman to get him over Charlie and moving forward.
All of that might have been true, but I still hated it.
I hated it because I wanted it to be me. I wanted it to be me who was strikingly gorgeous, fit and bold and confident enough to march right up to Reese in the park and demand a date. I wanted it to be me — in another world, another time, another place where I wasn’t his student and he wasn’t my teacher, where I wasn’t so fucked up from the first man who touched me that I couldn’t even let Reese try.
“I’m sorry about that,” Reese said once we were on the highway. “Jennifer can be… brash.”
I swallowed, stomach flipping around at the sound of her name on his lips. I had no right to be jealous, to care, but I did. It was something about the casual tone, the friendly way he referred to her — like he knew her, like she knew him.
I only wanted to hear my name on his lips like that.
“I think she’s refreshing,” I said, folding my hands over my stomach like I could soothe it with a sort of hug as that lie slipped through. “She knows what she wants, and she’s confident.” I turned to him, then. “You should go on a date with her.”
“What?” Reese’s brows pulled in so fast I thought he’d give himself a headache. He shook his head, shifting one hand off the wheel and replacing it with the other before he glanced at me. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Not at all.”
Reese eyed me for the longest time before he pulled his gaze back to the road, cracking his neck without responding.
“I’m just saying, it’s been two years since you quote, unquote, dated — and even that is a stretch, all things considered.”
Reese’s face fell flat at that.
“I’m not trying to dredge up old Charlie feelings or anything,” I said quickly. “I’m just saying… even if Jennifer isn’t the right one, she could be the right one to get you out of your funk. Maybe open you up to dating again. You know?”
Reese apparently didn’t know, because he just stared forward, the muscle in his jaw flexing as he gripped the wheel so tight his knuckles were the color of my uncle’s face. He shook his head, almost imperceptibly, before he finally responded.
“So, you want me to go on a date? That’s what you’re saying?”
No.
God, no.
Not even a little bit.
It’s the absolute last thing I want.
“Yeah,” I answered instead, swallowing down any other response my brain was screaming at me.
Or rather, my heart.
“I do. I think it’ll be good for you.”
Reese laughed, the sound so soft and laced with distaste that I wasn’t sure it could even be classified as a true laugh. He shook his head, but didn’t look at me again.
“Fine. Guess I’ll go on a date, then.”
I swallowed, forcing a smile like I’d won, like him agreeing to take Jennifer out was somehow a victory.
When we made it back to his place, Reese offered me a stiff hug goodbye before taking Rojo inside. I stood there in his driveway for the longest time, staring at his front door. I didn’t know why I was rooted to that spot, why I felt so physically ill that throwing up was the only thing I wanted to do in that moment to find some sort of relief.
But I tore myself from the spot, climbing into my uncle’s car and driving the ten minutes it took me to get home in complete silence.
This is the right thing, I told myself. Reese will be happier with someone like her.
Someone who isn’t me.
I said those words in my mind, over and over and over again — even after I’d slipped inside the house and closed the door to the piano room, taking a seat at the bench. I immediately began working on the piece Reese had assigned me, but it felt flat, and my desire to sing was somewhere right around my desire to see Jennifer Stinson again.
My shoulders fell, hands collapsing on the keys as an ugly string of notes rang out.
If this was the right thing to do, if pushing Reese away was what was best… why did I feel so sick?
A week later, I stared at my former best friend’s name on my phone like pressing the DIAL button would set off a nuclear bomb.
It’d been a rough seven days.
The piece Reese had assigned me was harder for me than I expected — mostly because I couldn’t tap into the same emotion as the composer. I wanted to nail it, drive it home when I performed it tomorrow at our Sunday lesson, but I felt like I was miles away from grasping what I needed to in order to accomplish that.
Not only was I struggling with the assignment, but Reese had been distant and cold at our lessons that week. If it was even possible, he seemed to be back to the same grump he’d been the first time we’d met. I tried to convince myself he was just doing what I’d asked him to do. He was acting as my teacher, not my friend. And that’s what I wanted. I didn’t come to Pennsylvania to make friends.
The problem was that I had, anyway.
Whether I wanted to admit it or not, I loved hanging out with Reese. I wanted to be around him — not just when he was teaching me, but all the time.