by Ava Danielle
Cheers erupted, as the closing remarks have come to an end. We’ve managed to survive and gathered so much knowledge. With our diplomas in our hands, the cabs tossed into the air, the world is truly waiting for us now. We’ve made history in our lives and it’s time we start a new chapter. And as I’m taking pictures with my father and friends, Rosa nearly squeezing the life out of me with pride, I’m surprised to see a face disguised behind a hat, but completely sure of the person coming towards me. I toss the diploma and cap into my father’s hand without as much of a word and run towards Elliot. Surprised to even see him, it doesn’t take me a second to kiss the hell out of him. “What are you doing here?” I’m giddy as he’s still holding me in his arms. Claps and cheers surround us as he slowly places me back on the floor, “I’ve missed you. You think I would let you graduate without being here with you?” My eyes start to tear up and I’m not sure what to even say to him, I’m shocked, “I was in the audience. I’m so proud of you,” his words get to me.
“Surprised?” my dad’s smile is as big as the Brooklyn Bridge.
“Am I ever. You knew?”
“Of course, we knew,” Rosa answers for my dad, “so, since the surprise is out now, it’s time for us to go,” she wraps her arms into my father’s.
“What? You’re leaving?” I’m a little sad.
“There are still more surprises coming your way, you’ll thank us,” she giggles as they both say goodbye to me leaving Elliot and I behind in a big city on our own.
“I can’t believe they just left,” I’m stunned.
“That’s okay, I’m sure you can show me the city without your father, what do you say?” Elliot takes me into his arms now as we leave Juilliard and I’m nearly breaking down.
It’s over. My life at this school that I had called home is over and a new chapter begins. The halls that I once took on a daily basis and sometimes even had to be pried out of are about to be closed behind me. I feel empty and sadness rushes through me that I hadn’t expected. Most people push towards a goal, they fight for it, but when you’ve reached that goal, you are definitely thankful to have made it, but you’re also gloomy about it all, because it was yours for so long and then you have to leave it behind. You’ve been able to reach the highest of the highest and have to move on to new heights. It’s never easy. Rewarding, but never easy.
The doors to Melody’s apartment open and she’s floored with the changes that occurred while she was graduating. The faint sound of Lindsey Stirling’s Mirage plays on the radio from the kitchen, her favorite. The candles light the way for her and the balloons congratulating her on her success float amongst the apartment walls. The dinner from earlier still smells and fills the air. Romance is written all over the apartment.
“Did you do this?” she’s shocked as she takes off her rope and hangs it over the back of the couch looking around the apartment.
“Yes,” I softly say in hopes she wouldn’t be mad but instead appreciate the gesture.
“It’s beautiful,” she hugs me tight as her eyes still expect every little detail.
“I would hope you’d think that,” I smile, “You hungry?”
“How long can you stay?” she’s curious.
“As long as you’d like me to,” I inform her as I pour us each a glass of wine.
“Forever,” she mumbles.
Under her rope, I couldn’t see it before; she wore a gorgeous blue dress showing off every curve of her body. She’s gorgeous and I can’t seem to keep my eyes off her. When did I get so lucky to meet such a beautiful person? Not just on the outside does she radiate, but her soul, her mind, it’s all perfection. She sparkles, twinkles, brighter than any star could. She’s perfect. Her personality captures my heart. And I could go on day dreaming about her even across the table, but instead I have to make conversation.
“You were absolutely gorgeous today,” I start by saying while we try to eat the lasagna I had prepared, from scratch of course.
“Oh, just today?” she teases trying to escape the moment we might be creating. I’m hoping we aren’t going too fast for her because one thing I would never want is to pressure her.
She makes my heart stop, drop, and roll. She has me on fire when she touches my soul. She has my heart in her hands. I’m hers. She’s my undoing. And I feel dangerous around her. She has a power over me, an unstoppable control over me. I want her more than I did in the tree house. The mood is set. The room lit by candles is set. She’s in the bathroom changing into something more comfortable. Code for sexy, code for sex, right? I’m not one to pressure her, but I can’t wait to taste her, taste every inch of her body. There’s passion between us. It’s through phone calls, texts, and Skype calls. I know there’s some desire and want between us. I just hope I hadn’t read it wrong.
“Hello sexy,” her voice sounds hoarse as she stands by the bathroom door facing the living room. She’s timid. Shy. And a bit reserved. You can tell she’s nervous about the situation, so clearly, I do the one thing that I do best.
“Come here,” my fingers waving for her to sit on my lap on the couch as she appears in her gorgeous rose camisole covered by a satin while robe. I hand her the violin I noticed lying in the corner on a table, to loosen up the nervousness between her and I, “Play for me,” I demand to hear her.
“Now?” she’s perplexed.
“Yes. Now,” I lie back to let the sound fill the room.
“I don’t know,” she tries to argue with me, but I demand hopeful she will see where I’m getting with all of this.
She stands with a smile and her usual composure, placing the violin on her shoulder and starts to play without even thinking twice. She’s fully engaged into the music and I decide to close my eyes letting the music take over my heartbeat. I could listen to her day and night, but only when we’re not kissing. Sometimes music is the only thing that gets your mind off everything. The glee she feels when she plays is written all over her face. She’s smiling and you can tell just how happy she actually is.
Slowly I ease towards her as she continues to play. Her notes become longer than they should and she’s hesitant about continuing to play. I inch closer and closer to her letting my presence be known. The notes become fewer and fewer as the heat between us rises. Licking her lips, you can tell she wants it. And I’m ready and willing to give it to her. Softly and gently I kiss her lips as she slowly forgets about her violin and only concentrates on me. The passion between us undeniable. The heat rises. And I remember a quote I once read, -from a little spark may burst a flame- and she definitely lit a fire inside of me.
I’m falling in love, there’s no denying it, “You’re making me feel things I’ve never felt kissing a woman,” I’m honest and raw.
“Music can do that to you,” she tries to blow it off as if it was nothing, but it’s something.
“I’m serious,” I lean in and kiss her again, this time harder and more passionate, “Do you feel it?”
“I do,” she sighs.
“It’s not the music, Melody, it’s you. I’m attracted to you in a way I can’t even describe.” I’ve never told a woman just how I felt from any of the butterflies I feel. I’m a guy. I shouldn’t feel these silly butterflies, as women call them, but I do. I’m weak in her presence. I’ve become vulnerable, a side of me I had no idea even existed. With only her smile and the adoration in her eyes, I’m hooked and faint.
Elliot set a perfect evening as we lie on the floor of my living room; I’m staring into his beautiful eyes. I’m taken back by the fact he’s gone out of his way to make this evening such a beautiful night. I’m alone with him in my own four walls, a surprise I didn’t see coming. I thought I would be going out for dinner with my father and Rosa after the ceremony, but instead I’m in my apartment in NYC with the boy from next door. I’m nervous and clearly, he could tell by the way he asked me to play the violin for him. Truthfully, once I play, I forget everything around me and loosen up letting the music speak for me. He gets me.
But now we are cuddled up into each other’s arms and I feel more comfortable than I ever have. He’s my sanctuary and around him I can be vulnerable, myself, and never fear disappointment. He’s found a special place in my heart, one I hope to never have to share. Our kisses linger. Our tongues dance to the beat of their own song. We nearly crawl inside of each other, closer and closer than we have ever gotten before. Clothes are flying. Body parts are revealed. And the shyness we once felt towards each other starts to fade away. The city lights fill the room through the windows as the candles start to blow out one by one. He’s kissing inches of my neck. I’m enjoying and moaning at his every touch. It’s slow. Adoring. Pleasing. Magical. My nipples harden at his every touch. My love towards him grows and I trust him fully. I’m eager to feel him inside of me, and once I do, I don’t want to let him go. We’re making slow passionate love. Slow as in creeping like a turtle slow – just so we don’t miss an inch and second of each other. We’re connecting. We’re one. We’re not holding back.
“Melody,” he whispers into my ear as he pushes into me and I feel him fill me.
“Elliot,” I whisper back unsure if there should be more words exchanged.
Silence fills the room after it’s over and I miss him. I cuddle into his arms as I feel his arms wrap tight around me. Our naked bodies are pressed against each other and I’m blissfully aware I never want him to leave again.
“Truth or dare,” I try to start a conversation.
“Dare,” he kisses the top of my head.
“I dare you to make me shiver,” wanting to feel his touch.
“That’s easy,” I can feel his grin as his fingers slowly, and I mean long-drawn-out slow he caresses the side of my body finding that one perfect spot under my hip to make me shiver from excitement, I can feel my own Goosebumps rise.
“Shit,” I laugh and jump from the shivers he gives me.
“Told you that was easy,” he is completely happy with himself, “Truth or Dare.”
Debating whether to fall into a trap, I answer with, “Truth,” prepared for the easy questions.
“How did you feel when you first saw me?”
“Back home or today?”
“Today,” he makes it easy for me to answer.
“Today I felt happiness, nervousness, and my heart skipped so many beats, I feel alive. I wasn’t expecting you, so it was definitely a pleasant surprise. I’ve thought about you day and night, hoping to see you soon, and I was so ready to graduate just so I could take a few days to come see you. Soon with the Orchestra there won’t be much time and I was hoping to get a few days in with you. But to be fully honest, I was afraid,” once I get to talking, I’m hard to stop.
“Why?”
“Because I wasn’t a hundred percent sure you’d feel the same,” I’m allowing myself to be open with him, which is one thing that’s never been easy in past relationships.
“Baby,” he starts to whisper as tears fill my eyes, “I feel for you exactly what you feel for me,” he’s blunt and tries to take the feelings I feel towards him in stride, agreeing with my every word, “I like you a lot Melody and I never want you to be worried or scared about your feelings for me. We need to promise each other something,” he has my full attention.
“Yes?”
“To always tell each other exactly how we feel. I’ve never had a relationship where I felt I could say exactly how I feel without being judged or worry if my feelings are reciprocated. Loveless relationships suck. Relationships based on only one person’s love suck even more. So if we’re always truthful, I don’t see how anything could ever go wrong,” he opens in a way I’ve never seen a man open himself emotionally towards me. It’s refreshing and lifts so many worries from my shoulder.
“I promise,” I lick the tears that had formed on my lips.
A long night left behind us, we’re starting the day out in our favorite pair of shorts, sexy top – well she’s got the sexy top, while I’m sporting my favorite Mets baseball shirt, ready for a date with my girl. She promised me a date filled with lots of tourist attractions, but not the kind everyone dreams of, the native NYC kind of dates away from most of the crowds.
She promised me a date of holding hands. Soft kisses on the Brooklyn Bridge, and some of her favorite foods, although the only hunger I’m going to be feeling is towards her. Her juicy lips, her tender neck, and kissing her sweet cheeks will be the only thing I’ll have on my mind.
“How competitive are you?” she asks as she yells for a cab to take us through the city.
“Not really sure, but I don’t like losing,” I admit a bit puzzled by her question.
“Neither do I, so I’m going to test your skills at Modern Pinball,” she grins.
“Pinball?” I’m astonished by the fact she thinks playing Pinball will make me competitive.
“Yes. I’m going to put your skills to the test,” she grins from ear to ear prepared to have a little pinball fight.
Arriving at a little place called Modern Pinball, I remember watching a TV show called Daredevil that had been filmed here, in awe of standing right in front of the door to lead us to pinball heaven. A few people line the hall of Pinball machines, but Melody takes me by the hand leading me to the machine that is facing the front window for everyone to see us.
“This is the 70s machine of Kiss, I may or may not have once scored the High Score a year or so ago,” she starts to gloat, “So, would you like to top that score?” she grins.
“I think I’ll pass,” I refrain from playing so I don’t risk topping her high score.
“You can’t,” she laughs entering the coins into the machine, “Here you go,” the ball falls into place as she moves to the side making room for me to start playing.
One push here. One click there. One flip here. And Bam. I’m throwing her score out of the ballpark. I’m in my element and for the first time she’s stunned and unaware of anything around us mainly focusing on my skills at the pinball machine.
“That can’t be right,” she’s appalled, “I thought for sure I would be beating you at this,” I’m still playing as she awaits her turn. Mind you, I’m still on the first ball flipping it all over the place.
“You can’t be good at everything, babe” I remind her, concentrating.
At this stage of the relationship we’re still getting to know one another. The little things we do and the little time we spend together is an adventure. We’ve discovered we’re so alike in so many ways, yet different. We like a lot of the same things, but as far as broccoli and cauliflower goes, she can have that, I have no interest in it whatsoever.
“How about a hot dog?” she tries to distract me looking out of the window to a hot dog stand.
“Uh huh,” I agree as I continue to flip.
“I’m getting hungry,” she mumbles pacing back and forth.
“Uh huh,” I bite my lip trying to make sure I don’t miss a ding on the machine.
“We should hurry before someone beats us there and then there’s a line.” Oh, she’s smooth.
“Uh huh,” I repeat.
“Please baby,” I feel her hands squeeze my butt cheeks and I’m completely done with the game as the ball falls right into its trap.
“Shit,” I roll my eyes as I laugh.
“Oh, I’m sorry, did you lose the ball?” the subtle drop of sarcasm comes across without a doubt.
“No baby, that was my fault,” I tease back with a hint of sarcasm, “So, where’s this hot dog you’re dreaming of?” I smile at her as she points right at the window and grins.
Two hot dogs later I’m surprised at how stuffed I actually am from a hot dog. You’d think it was a simple hot dog, but it wasn’t. Much bigger than those Oscar Meyer packs, loaded with quite the cheese and goods, and a special kind of mustard. If I wasn’t so stuffed, I’d go back and order me another one.
It’s the perfect day. The sun is bright in the sky. I have my girl beside me as we walk the streets of New York City. T
he tall buildings all around us makes me feel small, but when I stare at Melody next to me, the short brunette that stole my heart, I feel big again. I’m big in an even bigger city. So many people surround us, but I feel like it’s only her and I.
“Next?” I wait for something else exciting to cross her mind in hopes it’s not your standard tourist location.
“I can’t tell you yet, but you might hear music,” she smiles.
Racking my brain trying to figure out what could possibly have music in New York City I think of the subway, those street musicians trying to earn a buck, I think of Lincoln Center and ballerinas, I think of Time’s Square, Broadway, Radio City, but none of these places seem to be what she has on her mind. And if I had to read her mind, I would fail miserably.
Arriving, I never figured this would be the place of music.
Opened in 1913, this was the gateway to the confident for so many people, so many ideas, and so much culture. Grand Central Station just captures so many people’s imagination in ways almost no other building in New York ever has. It created North Avenue and also created midtown in New York. This is now the biggest terminal in the world. It’s also a building that contains many secrets. Everybody knows about the famous clock facing Park Avenue, but you can also actually climb up to a tiny little room up ladders to access it. About eighty-two million people come through Grand Central every year. But none of this is to very much importance because there’s one particular special spot I’d like to show him.
