I glance at him and he looks like he cares. He looks like he cares more than anybody else ever has.
“Then will you do something for me that I need?” he asks and my eyes flare in surprise but I nod. He jerks his head at my cello in the corner. “Will you play something for me? I haven’t heard you play ever since I came here.”
Fidgeting, I’m tempted to sneak away with my tail between my legs. “That’s because I don’t like an audience. Not anymore at least.”
“Why not?”
“Because I...suck,” I breathe and he looks like he’s about to let out a curse but then he doesn’t. He seems to be treading carefully, suddenly treating me with velvet gloves.
“How about you play and I won’t even look at you and you can pretend I’m not even here.”
“Easier said than done,” I reply but I don’t want to say no to him and I get up, hoping he doesn’t notice my legs shaking and then I take my cello and sit down on a chair. With the instrument in a firm grip, I throw him a glance and he looks away, keeping his promise.
Taking a deep breath I start playing, tensing when I mess up on the first note and I expect at least a chuckle from Stan but he stays silent. Reverent. It spices me up with some courage and I start playing, classical tones filling my small living room.
I feel his energy coming at me again, surrounding me, enveloping me in a cocoon and it fills me with a courage I’ve never felt before. Not even pep talks from Gina or any of my siblings, whom I respect more than anything, fill me with this kind of audacity.
It’s strange and I’m not sure what to do with it, my knees trembling as I play. How can he have this effect on me? I don’t know and maybe I don’t need to know but I can feel it pull us closer, creating an invisible string between us.
Or maybe it’s a chain. Something indestructible.
Throwing him a quick glance, I gasp at the look in his eyes. Absorbing. Intense. Devilish.
He averts his glare, remembering his promise but I almost panic. I want those eyes back on me again. I need them! Suddenly I don’t know how I could ever play without them.
Licking my lips, I whisper, “Please...I want you to l...look at me.”
Stan doesn’t say anything, but his eyes move as quickly as a whiplash back on mine again. It relieves me, grounds me and our gazes lock as I play. I stare at him in fascination. The lights in the living room seem to have dimmed or maybe that’s just my imagination, but I know I’m not imagining that his eyes are changing.
They’re going from that crystal blue, to a darker brown and then black. They stay on the black, holding me in his grip, haunting me. He looks...
Infatuated. Smitten. Obsessed.
When I stop playing, his eyes and the lights in the room return to normal and I put the cello away.
“You’re a good audience, Stan,“ I whisper, my voice breaking a little from emotion. “If everyone were like you...” I search for the right words, “then I’d probably never doubt myself ever again.”
“You won’t,” he says with a lot of certainty and I look at him in surprise. “I’m here now.”
He is. And it seems like he’s a blessing in disguise.
He seems so dedicated to me somehow and it heats me up, heats up the cold I’ve been feeling inside. I’m so grateful for the warmth that I invite him to the concert on Friday.
It’s risky because I could make a fool out of myself but deep down I know that Stan would never hold that against me. Instead he’d probably do everything he can to make me feel better about myself.
“I’ll be there,” he answers in a low voice. And then he reaches out his hand toward me and I don’t even hesitate, reaching out my own and our fingers twist. It’s a slight, innocent touch but for some reason it doesn’t feel so innocent at all.
4
Stanmore
I could barely keep it together yesterday when Amber walked into the living room, wearing her little pajama set, looking good enough to eat.First I thought she was going to get angry that I was invading on her privacy.
But instead she walked closer, driving me crazy at the feel of her being right next to me. So close that I could touch her, fist her hair and run my tongue wherever there is a pulse on her body.
She played for me. She wanted my eyes on her at all times.
She’s unaware that they already are on her at all times. I’m preoccupied with her, I eat, sleep and breathe her. She’s taken over every part of me and made it hers.