Never again would she be left alone with the dark because the night was when our demons came out to play. And our demons played nicely together, leaving the two of us alone.
Chapter Twenty
“Make love to her like you mean it.”
—Oliver Masters
mia.
I’D KIDNAPPED OLLIE and Zeke and escaped to the group therapy room to get away from the dark cloud that always hovered over the school. It had been months since I’d played the piano, and for once, both Ollie and Zeke needed a lighter day. The sun decided to show its beautiful rays, but the lawn was littered with students.
Ollie and I both learned that crowds affected him emotionally as well, so this space had been the perfect answer. It was fascinating, learning about this beautiful man. He gave and gave, but all everyone else ever did was take from him—most without them ever knowing.
I looked up from the piano and caught Zeke staring back at me in awe. He loved music. The body made of skin and bones sat relaxed, big brown eyes remained fixed on me, and I flashed him a small smile as my fingers danced fluently across the keys, speaking in a way he connected with. Music had no language barriers.
My gaze switched to Ollie as my fingers took on a new melody, a song I’d heard once before, but had never fully understood the meaning before until now.
Now? It hit me in the gut, flamed my heart, and ignited my soul.
Firestone.
Ollie sat in the black folding chair by the window with his notepad in his lap, pen in hand, and feet propped over another chair. The hood had disappeared, and his messy brown hair lacked ruling, strands falling into his eyes. His focus coasted over his paper to me, and our eyes connected. My heart rate slowed to heavy and hard single hits. My chest held despite my fingers having a mind of their own. His fingers relaxed, and the pen he had been holding fell over his notepad. Beats of the moment, of the song, played out our sacred moment.
Ollie’s expression calmed, but his eyes were haunting and all-expressive.
I let out a breath, my brain finally kicking back in, and I flashed him a smile and shook my head. Ollie dropped his head, but the closed-lipped smile appeared before he looked back up and his smile grew, his eyes drifting from Zeke and back to me.
He felt the impact too.
Zeke rose to his feet and walked toward me as I finished up the last chords of Firestone. Reluctantly, he eyed the space beside me. I inched over, making space for him and pat the area with my palm. “I’ll teach you.”
Zeke wasn’t deaf, only a mute, and this was the first time he was interested in learning. I’d asked him numerous times over the summer, but his only response before was a rapid head shake and a wave of his hand.
With two fingers, I played a simple pattern on the left side of the keys, hoping he’d repeat on the right. Zeke floated his two pointer fingers over the keys. As soon as the second finger pressed down, the wrong key sounded, and he snatched his hand away.
“It’s fine. I mess up all the time.” Straightening my posture, I drew in a deep breath, forcing him to copy, and repeated the same pattern over the keys.
Zeke copied my movements completing the pattern the second time with ease, but missing in rhythm. I’d come to realize there were two types of musicians in this world—those who could play by ear, and those who played by instruction. Zeke was an instruction learner, and there was absolutely nothing wrong with that. As long as you had the heart, passion, and drive, the flow would come with time.
“Okay, we’re going to play a song. You keep doing that pattern and don’t stop. I’m going to play the second part over here,” I informed as Zeke continued. I glanced up toward Ollie who sat relaxed in his chair with eyes hooked on the two of us. Ollie’s smile beamed, his eyes glowing, and I returned my attention back to Zeke before playing the second part of the song.
Zeke stayed focus facing the keys with his fingers straight, keeping up with the rhythm and my new string of notes not disturbing him.
“Yes!” I encouraged, continuing the first song I ever learned on the piano. I’d never thought Zeke would get to this point. It was a giant step for him, and I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face as I watched him concentrating hard on the song I’d taught him.
After three more repetitions, I’d slowed, seeing if he could match my pace.
He did, and together we came to a stop.
Zeke turned to face me with a finger pressed firmly on the key with a glowing smile over his innocent features.
I wanted to hug him, or at the very least pat him on the shoulder so he’d understand the monumental moment we’d shared—the beginning of something new we’d uncovered. But I couldn’t risk it, unsure of his reaction with me touching him. The smile across his face was enough to know he understood.
“You did it, mate,” Ollie stated, grabbing both of our attention as he stepped in front of the piano. His palms hit the top of the piano as he leaned over. “Now get out of here,” he nudged his head toward the door with a permanent smile crossing his lips, “I need to be alone with my love.” Brown curls bounced as Zeke glanced back at me, his smile uncertain, and his eyes darted. “Go on. It’s alright.”
Zeke scurried out, and Ollie kept eyes locked on mine until the door closed. The single sound influenced his feet forward. Ollie moved around the piano, then threw his leg over the bench, straddling to face me. “Ollie,” I whispered. The closeness between us seized every word from my brain.
“Play again for me,” he requested, hardly above a whisper. “Firestone.” Ollie’s smile took hold of me and his dimples deepened. It seemed like forever since I’d seen them. “Play,” he encouraged again, looking off and his face beamed. Green eyes flitted back to mine, and he tilted his head. “Please.”
I let out a breath and returned my eyes in front of me, unsure how I was going to play now when all my hands wanted to do was leave the keys and be on him.
I gathered all self-control, and my shaken fingers trailed over the keys to the beginning of the song. Ollie’s eyes anchored me, becoming the gravity holding us together in our bubble as my heart fluttered in my chest. I knew if my eyes chanced a look at him, I wouldn’t be able to keep up with the song. So, my gaze remained fixed out in front of me while I reminded myself to breathe.
The sun filtered through the opened blinds of the large window across the shadowy room. Halfway through the chorus, Ollie’s hand moved over mine to stop the song and pulled me up from the chair. The room fell silent, his arms wrapped around my shoulders to pull me against him, and he closed his eyes.
“Where are you always escaping to?” I asked, lifting my head and holding on to his hips.
Ollie smoothed his hands over my hair and opened his eyes. “You. Your music. Us. We deserve better than to be in this place, wouldn’t you say?” His eyes scanned the room before returning to me. “You hear that, Mia?” I shook my head, and Ollie closed his eyes. “Firestone,” he said through an exhale. He swayed us slowly back and forth with a song in his head and us dancing somewhere other than a poorly lit room of a reformatory school. “Where do you want to go love?”
I smiled. “All the way.”
Ollie’s pulse in his neck kicked. Green eyes transformed right before me, turning into a lighter shade. Defenseless. Naked. Vulnerable. He wet his lips and dropped his gaze to my mouth, and our movements came to a standstill. His fingers smoothed over my hair, dropping my head back in their wake to face him.