Unfinished Sympathy

by Amélie S. Duncan

  “Aubrey…” His whisper of my name was deep and intimate, an unconcealed desire of what could be. I recognized the yearning and lust at once. I was drowning in them for him.

  I shivered in his grasp as his hands took my waist and pulled me closer to him. I met his dark gaze and licked my lips, my pulse racing inside me. Kiss me, Paul.

  He tilted my head up and bent his head down, pressing his lips to mine. The kiss could’ve been chaste, but I wrapped my hands around his neck and pressed my lips against his, kissing him back like this was the only kiss I’d ever get. I put all my feelings into it. My desire for him was so raw, I couldn’t hold back. I parted my lips, and he plunged his tongue inside my mouth.

  We detonated. Our tongues entangled, swirled and stroked each other. He tasted like mints and chocolate; delicious. I was euphoric at getting what I most wanted from him and intoxicated by the thrill. My breath was suspended, my skin burned. I couldn’t get enough, and neither could he. His desire and possession of me knew no more patience, and neither did mine. He let out a deep sexy groan, and his fingers pulled hard on my hair as our kiss deepened. Waves of heat coursed through me and I forgot myself. I became wetter and hotter with the pressure of his mouth and the sweet, slick gliding of his tongue.

  I moaned into his mouth. Oh, Paul. He wanted me, and I wanted to be closer to him. I wanted him all over me.

  The bell sounded to let us know that someone had pushed the studio door open.

  I startled, dropping my arms away from his shoulders. My hands moved quickly to straighten my shirt before I wrapped my arms around myself. Paul wasn’t any better. He looked like he’d woken from a spell. Unlike mine, his surprise morphed into anger.

  “Didn’t you see the recording light is on? Get the fuck out.” His voice filled the studio, and the strength of his displeasure should have sent whoever it was right out of the room.

  My eyes sought out who had come in. I needed to prepare for whatever might come from whoever had seen our kiss. I was semi-relieved to find it was Paul’s dad, Jonas. He didn’t look at all perturbed by Paul’s sudden brusqueness. He also didn’t leave, instead walking over to stand by the piano.

  “You weren’t playing music when I opened the door,” Jonas remarked calmly.

  I adjusted my glasses. “Excuse me, Mr. Crane. We were celebrating the progress of a song we were working on. I assure you we were working.” At least before kissing.

  Paul snorted. “We’re adults, and he’s interrupting us. It’s a habit of his to make my time his own when he wants it.”

  “Ms. Irving, if you’d excuse me, I’d like to speak to my son alone,” Jonas said in a tone that was polite rather than harsh.

  “Sure,” I said and moved to pick up my bag.

  “You can leave your things. This won’t take long,” Paul said. “We’ll continue—”

  Jonas interrupted him. “You should call it a night. Perhaps pick up another time—”

  “—Absolutely not,” Paul said, cutting him off in his turn. “You come here unannounced, and we’re right in the middle of a creative breakthrough.”

  “Is that what you call making out now? I can’t keep up with the trends,” Jonas mocked, then sat down on a chair. “I need to discuss something important with you.”

  Paul’s frown transformed into concern. “Apologies, Aubrey. We’ll pick up in fifteen minutes.”

  “Okay, I’ll wait in the hall.” I left the room, walking to the end of the corridor to give them privacy.

  There I paced, and my mind tried to process our kiss. I could spend hours debating how foolish we were to do this at work. Obviously, I’d learned there was no privacy, not even in his personal studio. We’d taken a big risk.

  My risk was with my job and professional standing. Even as a boss, Paul had risked being seen kissing me. He’d crossed the line with me right in the middle of his lawsuit with a former client. While I doubt anyone at Crane Studios would go against Paul, I couldn’t assume. What were we thinking?

  I could explain away our kiss as something that had happened because of our music, but that wasn’t true. Our kiss had come after, when he was looking at me with admiration and longing. I’d recognized that look. I was as sure as my next breath I’d had the same expression on my face.

  “You’re still here?” Daniel said, ending my inner debate. I could see the men’s room door shutting behind him. How long had he been there? Had he heard or seen anything?

  I crossed my arms to hide my alarm and kept my voice as even as I could as I tried to feel him out. “I was playing music with Paul, but he’s speaking with his dad right now. You came to observe our practice?”

  He bristled. “God, no. I wanted to thank him for the game tickets he sent.”

  I lifted my brows. “You came all the way from Jersey City to Midtown Manhattan to tell him you have his e-tickets? That’s odd.”

  “No, it’s how I work. Just because you don’t think it’s work, it is,” he said in a curt tone. “Oh, and thanks for telling Ryan about the basketball games in the morning. I’m still here. What you told Ryan made no difference.”

  He’d dropped his “yo” fake friendliness. I’d pissed him off by spoiling his party today. I also didn’t have to be nice to him.

  “Honestly, I don’t care that I called you out,” I replied, putting my hands on my hips. “I won’t do all the work we were both hired to do.”

  His nostrils flared. “I do enough. Basketball and the gym were no different from you trying to get him all excited over a crusty old violin. Are you too dumb to realize he’s a pop icon?”

  My eyes narrowed. “The music we’re working on is being considered for the title track of the game. That’s hardly underhanded. And never call me dumb again, asshole.”

  “I’m calling what you’re doing as I see it,” he said, gritting his teeth. “You’re so stuck-up and think you know everything, but you’re blind. I’m sick of seeing you fumble around, so let me wise you up. Paul is milking you for the work, just like everyone else does. We know all it takes is to compliment you a few times and we have you working like a racehorse all night. You’re the butt of a ton of jokes. No one likes you.”

  I smirked at him. “Are we back in high school? Perhaps that’s where you peaked, but let me clue you in. I don’t give a damn about the cool kids table, and unlike you, I don’t need praise to do my work.”

  “Sure, keep telling yourself that.” He laughed. “You’re desperate, and even Paul knows it. He flirts, and yeah, he’s got the looks and money; believe me, he can get any woman. Have you seen the women that come in here?” He let out a low whistle. “You’re kind of pretty, but try to be realistic. He can do much better. He may throw you a bone while he gets you to juice up his project, but he’s far from serious. Open your ears and listen to the stories about him and his conquests. He’s leagues above you and doesn’t have to settle. So put your starry eyes away and don’t take your glass slippers out.” He laughed again at his own joke.

  “And in all your useless wisdom, where does that leave you?”

  My response came out like I had cotton in my mouth. His words had hit home. I could tell myself it wasn’t true, but deep down, Paul’s past conquests did bother me. Even so, I wouldn’t give anything away to Daniel.

  I drew myself up. “You’re not winning any looks prizes yourself. If that’s what you depend on to get ahead, you’ve already lost.”

  “I’m in tears, Irving, that you don’t find me hot,” he said in a bored tone. “It won’t make a difference, just like you kissing Paul’s ass won’t. I’ll still get the job.”

  “Don’t count on it,” I called out to his back as he moved away.

  I still could hear the doubt in my voice, but it wasn’t alone. I had determination. This was a fight I couldn’t lose. If I did, I was sure I’d break.

  Aubrey

  I retreated to the women’s restroom and wet a towel, placing it on my neck to cool down and collect myself. Daniel was an ass, and
now I understood why Ryan thought of him as a kindred spirit. I could dismiss all he’d said as rivalry. He wanted me out of his way. However, that would never happen. I wasn’t giving up so easily. Too bad. He’d have to work for it, just like me.

  Returning to the studio, I discovered the live room was empty. I couldn’t bear to hear Paul tell me our kiss was a mistake. Everything depended on my success at this project. I couldn’t have him and my job. It would be hard, now that I knew how good his lips felt against mine, but I still had to pay for my past mistakes, and fulfilling this contract took me a step closer to atonement. Truly, not a day passed without me getting wearier of this alternate life. I felt heavy from how much its challenges weighed on me.

  My handbag hung from my shoulder when Paul came back into the recording studio. His presence filled the room, but right away I sensed something was wrong.

  “Sorry about that. My dad was right to interrupt me; the news wasn’t good.” His eyes were distant as he ran a hand through his hair.

  “Did something happen?” I asked.

  “Nothing I can do anything about. I really need to play right now.” He had his own sadness and secrets. I also understood his need to get lost in the music. I’d used music like that many times, and with all he’d done for me, I was keen to help him.

  I put my bag back down, but he interrupted me. “You’re packed up, were you leaving? I thought we’d agreed to play longer. Or are you leaving because of the kiss?”

  “I… yes, I should leave. Daniel mentioned something about a basketball game?” I said, attempting to change the subject.

  “Daniel.” He huffed in frustration. “The tickets were from our work lotto and emailed. They were for Sunday’s game. I wasn’t sure I’d go. I want to keep working on the songs. As an artist, you know that you go with your creativity or you lose it.”

  It pleased me to find out that Daniel had exaggerated his connection with Paul.

  “I missed going out when I used to play because I was in the zone,” I said.

  He nodded and walked over to stand in front of me. My pulse sped up. “I’ve locked the corridor leading to this section of the studio so we can talk in private. We need to talk about our kiss before you leave. I need to know what you’re thinking.”

  I lowered my eyes. “I’m thinking I need this job and can’t risk losing it. I’m thinking I’m tired of trying to be perfect and failing.”

  All my walls were down. My biggest fear was right on the surface. It tired me that I was never enough for my family, for Emono Games, even for Paul. He could have anybody, and he would. I’d kissed him because I’d wanted to. Why had he?

  I looked back up and held his gaze as my heart pounded, asking him outright, “I kissed you because I like you. Why did you kiss me?”

  A familiar shiver of awareness went through me as his large hands took my face and held it gently. “I kissed you because you’re beautiful and I like you. I kissed you because your music enlivens me. I kissed you because I couldn’t make it through another minute without tasting your lips. When I feel it’s right, I go with my instincts, and I’m tired of behaving in a way with you that doesn’t come naturally. You’re not losing your job over me. Do you want to know what I’m tired of?”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “I love my job, but sometimes I hate being the boss,” he said. His eyes bore into mine. “Let’s agree to be ourselves. I know we must be cautious—”

  “—We can’t.” I broke away from him and folded my arms. “Cautious isn’t the half of it. We could get caught, and I’d lose everything. I can’t take that risk. We’ll just forget this ever happened.” I touched the ache in my stomach that knotted at the thought.

  “I can’t do that, Aubrey,” he said, his voice rising. “I can’t look at you now and forget what it felt like when I kissed you. I accept it if my passion leads me to you. I know that if I hide away, I’ll end up missing all that life has to offer. You could too.”

  “I can’t do that,” I said my voice equally loud. “You know it’s not right. I mean, what happened to you not getting involved with the people you work with? You talked about breaking your pattern, but one kiss makes you abandon it?”

  “That’s right,” he said unwaveringly. “I believe one kiss can change everything if there is feeling and real passion in it. I didn’t set out for this to happen, and it would be easier for me to ignore it, but that’s not me. Yeah, I’m shaken by what I’m dealing with right now with my ex’s lawsuit. But one bad situation doesn’t mean I forever stop opening myself up to the possibility of starting again with someone. Hell, if I followed that philosophy, I’d give up classical music, because compared to my success in pop it’s a failure. I won’t. We could both end up hurt, but what could we gain? I want my soundtrack, and I want you to play on it, but I’m finding there is passion in the music between us. I want to explore it, but it takes two of us. I won’t push you. When you decide you want to go with your feelings, you come to me.”

  “For what?” I asked. I thought sex, but I’d found after spending time with him it wasn’t the only thing I’d wanted from him.

  “For whatever could happen,” he replied. “I don’t know where the two of us will go together, but I won’t continue to run from it.”

  “Now that you have your agreement not to sue,” I muttered.

  His eyes widened, then narrowed. “That’s not fair. I never asked you to do that. I invited you over well before that. I have been interested in you since I saw you on the train. And even before that, when I saw you play your violin years ago. I’ll listen and respect your feelings. Please do the same for mine.”

  I pushed my hair back and took a deep breath. He was offering everything I wanted and couldn’t bring myself to take. What if we didn’t work out?

  “It’s not because I don’t want you, Paul. The soundtrack won’t take forever, can’t we wait until it’s done?” I thought of production and post-production; nine months or longer. I tried to read Paul, but his expression had become inscrutable. He had shut me out.

  I closed my eyes against the loneliness and despair in my life. I wanted to grab hold of him and tell him yes.

  He took an audible breath. “I won’t pressure you or make you more uncomfortable. We’ll go on as before.”

  Paul quietly set up his piano.

  “I can stay for a little while, but I have to work tomorrow,” I offered. I couldn’t leave with him feeling hurt by me.

  “You have another job?” he asked as he wrote on his music sheets.

  “I do now,” I replied, resetting the violin. “Gunnar gave me a temp job at his law office. I needed extra work for a family emergency. The work sounds easy, and I didn’t have much planned for the weekend besides laundry and reading.”

  “Gunnar never mentioned it,” he said with displeasure in his tone.

  Gunnar didn’t gossip about me, then, which put a few more positives in his column.

  “You know if something happened and you needed help, you could tell me anything.” He waited for me to tell him what was going on, but I sat there until he sighed. His disappointment tinged the air, but he moved on. “I have a project coming up over Labor Day that Eileen can’t do because of her maternity leave. It’s in Prague….”

  “I’ll do it,” I said straight away.

  “You don’t even know what it is,” he said in disbelief.

  I shrugged. “I can’t be choosy.”

  “You can with me,” he said. “It’s a modern approach to Beethoven. An abstract music documentary I agreed to do as a favor to a friend. I’ll tell you more about it later if you’re interested in finding out what you’ve agreed to do.

  “I collected this for you.” He held up the latest iPhone with EarPods. “It’s a collection of songs to introduce you to some promising new music I’ve found. It also has some of our top artists’ work. Before you turn it down, the phone is a perk we give to all employees.”

  I took the phone from him and s
uppressed my smile. He’d figured me out. “Do all employees get music chosen by you?”

  “No. I’ve never done that before.” He returned to his piano bench. “I’ll admit the music I included is my way of trying to make you convert to fusion.”

  I pretended to gag, and we laughed easy. “I’ll try it.”

  “That’s the spirit.” He gave me a wink and my heart skipped a beat. Turning to his piano, he began to play. “This came to me after our session. Please, tell me what you think about it.”

  I listened and found that he’d already added something new to where we’d left off, and I felt a rush of excitement.

  When he stopped, he went to the stand next to him and picked up music sheets. “I’d meant to have you try this out too, as part of our song.”

  My heart warmed. He was calling the Absolution song ours. Daniel was sure I’d get screwed over, but we both knew that wasn’t true. That wasn’t the Paul I had grown to know.

  I went back to the Testore to test it out. Paul had written a frenzy of movements in the piece that catered to my strengths. He and I played again from the beginning. The song already showed a lot of promise; it was fast becoming a winner. Paul was just as thrilled.

  “You feel it,” he said with excitement. “It’s next-level music. Something that sings right in the soul.”

  I did feel it. It was something new. I was vibrating with enthusiasm and could pinch myself for being included.

  “I love it,” I said, then glanced at the clock. Time had kept going while we were in our creative bubble. It had moved ahead another two hours, and now it was close to seven p.m.

  “I should go home,” I said, and sighed.

  “I need to leave too,” he agreed, stacking the sheets in a pile. “Cleo’s Ensemble invited me to a show and a jam session in Brooklyn. Maybe we can go together? They play a fusion of classical and modern music. I’ll consider it as part of the research for the project. Don’t make me beg,” he added teasingly, and I liked it.