by Calia Read
Oh no.
Oh no.
Oh no.
The sheet music slipped from my hands, scattering around my feet like snowflakes.
Vertigo swept over me. All I could do was stare at my new piano instructor.
Dear God, this had to be a joke. A really messed up joke. But a joke, nonetheless. Or maybe I was still dreaming right now. Maybe this was my mind conjuring up the worst-case scenario, and I would wake up in a few seconds, back in my bed.
The longer I stood there, staring at my new instructor, who stared back at me with an equal expression of shock, I quickly realized that this wasn’t a joke, or a dream.
This was reality.
Standing next to my Opa, was my guy from last night. The one I very willingly almost gave myself up to. The one that ignited something inside of me.
Mathias Sloan: my new piano instructor. One and the same.
M A T H I A S
Last night was a mistake.
I realized that the minute I woke up. I should’ve been preparing myself for meeting my new student. Yet I kept picturing Olivia and how close we came to fucking.
I didn’t need any distractions. It was the last thing I needed. Pushing aside everything that happened last night, I got dressed and walked over to the Claussmanns’ house, ready to meet Tobias’ granddaughter.
Tobias met me at the front door of his house with a wide smile; the same one he gave me when I agreed to do this. His wife, Antje, was in the kitchen, and when she saw me, her voice went up a notch in excitement. She talked so fast I could barely understand her. But I heard enough to know that she was saying I was taller and I should visit more often.
Tobias took me upstairs to Katja’s studio. The way he explained it, they’d knocked out the wall between two bedrooms to make one giant room. There were two large windows with no blinds or curtains to prevent the sun from spilling in, and a stunning view of mountains. It was so bright in here I could see dust particles in the air. The floor was polished. But the show stopper of the room was a black, baby grand piano in the left hand corner, angled in a way so that the person sitting on the bench had nothing but the view of mountains.
We stood there for a few minutes, making small chat. I showed him the music I wanted Katja to play, but after a while, we ran out of things to talk about. I walked over to the window and stared down at my watch.
9:01 AM.
She was late. I glanced over at Tobias and saw his cheeks stained red.
“She’ll be here,” Tobias said confidently.
I just nodded and looked out the window, staring at the mountains. Germans are punctual. It’s in their DNA. Even a minute late is considered rude. I smirked. If this was a precursor to how things between me and Katja would be ... then we were already off to a bad fucking start.
And finally the door opened. I looked over my shoulder and watched his granddaughter give Tobias a kiss on the cheek and then she turned to her piano, dropped her bag, and started to go through her music. The whole time she talked a mile a minute in German. Her voice was soft ... and familiar.
She pushed her glasses up her nose and continued to rattle excuse after excuse for being late. I squinted and really took in this small girl that was my student. I knew this girl from somewhere. I just couldn’t figure out where. I turned back to the window, feeling like an intruder, listening in on a private conversation.
I waited till Tobias took over the conversation and started to introduce me before I turned around.
She finally looked in my direction. Her eyes locked on mine and then they widened, imperceptibly. And it was then that I realized where I knew this girl.
Olivia.
She, the girl from last night, was Katja Schwartz.
My student.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
There was no easy way to twist this situation and put it into a positive light. The truth of the matter was that I’d managed to break all my promises to Tobias within the first twenty-four hours of landing.
Everything was quickly spiraling downward, and I didn’t know how to stop it. Just thirty minutes ago I had knocked on the Claussmanns’ front door. Ready to meet Tobias’ granddaughter, my student.
I didn’t expect to meet the girl from last night.
My student.
I tried to let those words really sink in. My student. But they couldn’t, because even though she was standing right in front of me, all I could see was the Katja from last night. The one that moved her lithe body around me with confidence and a wicked gleam in her eyes. She pulled me under, and in a moment of weakness I took her back to my apartment, practically attacking her. Last night, I had reverted to a fucking teenager. My hands had been shaking as I pulled down that sexy dress. My body shuddered when she touched me. She had power and control and she fucking knew how to use it.
On top of that, though, she was also a fucking liar.
Olivia, my ass.
Twenty-four, my ass.
What else had she lied about? I didn’t want to know.
If it were one of my buddies in this situation, not me, I would laugh. I’d tell him that he was thoroughly fucked. And I would ask how he could ever think that the girl standing in front of him could ever look the part as a twenty-four-year-old. The small blonde in front of me ... she was something else entirely. Wearing a blue cardigan and plain black skirt that ended at her knees, it looked like she was on her way to an all-girls boarding school. All that blonde hair that was in sexy waves last night—that I wrapped around my hands and tugged on—was now in a ponytail.
Neither one of us moved or even said a word.
Tobias cleared his throat. I glanced away from Katja and looked at Tobias. He was staring between us, his eyes narrowed.
It didn’t matter what I was thinking or feeling. To Tobias, this was my first time meeting Katja. I didn’t want him becoming suspicious.
So I walked toward her and bent down to pick up the sheets she dropped and handed them to her like it was nothing. “Nice to meet you, Katja.”
Her name escaped my mouth sharply.
Her eyes were as wide as saucers.
She grabbed the papers, and her fingers grazed mine. I flinched.
“Likewise, Mr. Sloan,” she said, holding the sheets of music against her chest like a protective shield.
Her words were like a bucket of cold water dumped over my head. I was the adult. I knew better than to do what I did last night. And Katja? Who knew how old she really was. She barely looked a day older than seventeen.
I felt sick at the thought.
Awkward silence swirled around the three of us. Katja’s head was down, her eyes rooted to the floor. I shot Tobias a confused glance, as if I had no idea what was going on with his granddaughter.
“Katja, why don’t you play something for Mr. Sloan, hmm?” It was a demand more than a question.
Katja nodded and sat on the bench. She made herself comfortable, straightening out her skirt before her posture became straight. She poised her hands above the keys. Before they lowered, she looked at me out of the corner of her eye. She swallowed loudly. I saw just how nervous she was and realized that being her teacher would never work, not if she couldn’t relax around me.
She warmed up by doing scales. I kept my concentration on the piano, watching each hammer hit the strings in rapid succession.
I’m here to teach her. I’m here for the piano. That’s what I’m fucking here for, I chanted in my head.
When her hands glided across the keys, she silenced the doubts within seconds. By the first few notes I instantly knew the song she was playing. Carmen Fantasy. It was a piece composed by Vladimir Horowitz; a song demanding for any seasoned pianist, with notes ranging to the high and low register. But it showed her personality. Her hands moved left to right so effortlessly, as if she was born to do this.
And then I saw it.
For a second I saw the talent. The way she produced a sound that was so alive. But as quickly as it arrived, it disappeared. While she p
layed the song well, it wasn’t beautiful. And I wanted beautiful. I wanted the song to have a continuous heartbeat.
She stopped playing. The notes vibrated around the room for a few seconds before they faded away. Katja dropped her hands onto her lap. She took a deep breath, her lashes fluttering against her cheek, and then she finally looked over at me.
Everyone was quiet.
I could feel Tobias’ eyes on me, waiting for me to say something.
“Very good,” I said in Bavarian. And fuck if my voice wasn’t slightly raw.
Tobias didn’t notice. His attention was directed at Katja. Yet she was staring back at me, frowning, as if she was trying to figure out if I was being sincere or not.
Tobias placed his hand on Katja’s shoulder. “What did I tell you, Mathias?” he said. “She’s good, right?”
Katja looked away. She patted Tobias’ hand.
“Oh, she’s very good,” I replied with an underlining meaning. Katja’s eyes widened. There was a spark of anger in her eyes, and I saw a small bit of the girl I touched last night. “But she’s a little dry in some places. Nothing we can’t fix though.”
“Dry?” she repeated.
My eyes bore straight into hers. “Yes. Dry. You played the song perfectly, but there was no feeling behind it. The notes should come alive the second your fingers press down on the keys.”
Katja’s back straightened. She faced me full on. Her lips were in a tight line. “So I’m ‘dry’ … how are you going to fix that?” she challenged.
“I want your own approach, something that sets your talent apart. Makes your sound so unique that whenever someone hears a piece of your music, no matter the composer, they know it’s Katja Schwartz.” I bent down so our eyes were level. “I want to make you unmatched.”
I didn’t move back. I stayed perfectly still, waiting for her to fully soak in my words.
“Do you see, Katja?” Tobias said. “This is exactly why I hired Mathias. He’s going to make something of you!”
Katja looked over her shoulder at her Opa. “Yes, he will.”
“I should be going. I have a meeting at ten.” Tobias kissed Katja on the head. “Do your magic, Mathias!”
“I’ll try,” I said, my eyes still on Katja.
Tobias left, the door clicking shut behind him. We stayed silent, listening to Tobias’ footsteps on the stairs. I walked to the window and stared outside. I didn’t bother turning back to her.
“So ... Olivia or Katja. Which one is it?” I asked, letting my anger slip into my words.
“It’s Katja,” she answered in Bavarian.
I noticed that when she was nervous she slipped back into her first language.
I turned back to her, my arms crossed. “So is Olivia a name you use when you meet guys?”
She flinched and jerked back, as if I had slapped her.
“No. It just came to me. I liked the name, so I used it.” She shrugged and I thought to myself that she looked so naive and sweet, like nothing in this fucked up world would ever get ahold of her.
“How old are you really?” I asked.
She finally looked at me and shook her head. “I’m nineteen.”
“Fuck,” I muttered underneath my breath. With my hands on my hips, I paced the floor. “Nineteen,” I whispered. It was better than my original guess, but barely. “Nineteen.”
I couldn’t fucking believe it. I should’ve believed it though. I should’ve realized that no one can be so innocent and oblivious at the age of twenty-four. Even nineteen seemed like a stretch.
“You speak Bavarian,” she said, her voice accusing.
I frowned. “Yes.”
“So why did you speak English last night?”
“Because you talked to me in English first,” I shot back.
Katja jumped up from her seat and pointed a finger at me. “I thought you were American!” she hissed.
“I am American.”
She was shaking she was so mad. And it was only then that I realized that she was standing right in front of me. Her chin up, shoulders squared, acting like she could take me on, when the top of her head barely reached my shoulders.
I crossed my arms, and she licked her lips. That triggered everything from last night. I quickly stepped around her and walked toward the piano. She was looking at me with confusion.
“Look,” she started out slowly, “I didn’t think I’d see you again. I thought ... I thought-”
“You thought we’d have one night and both be on our way the next day?” I supplied.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“But that didn’t happen now, did it?” I said stiffly.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she said. “You thought it was a one time thing too!”
There was no point in lying. “I did,” I admitted and finally looked away from her probing gaze. “I’m sorry about-”
“Please don’t apologize.” She cringed. “I knew exactly what I was doing last night.”
“Really?”
Hesitantly, she nodded. Fear flashed in her eyes. Good. I wanted her to be wary; what happened was bad and could never happen again. For just a brief second, I felt a flash of anger, picturing her with another guy, dancing with him the way she moved against me last night. These emotions swirling around me were the last things I should be feeling. I rubbed the bridge of my nose.
“This isn’t going to work,” I said.
“What? Why?” she asked, alarmed.
“I watched how bad your hands shook when you played—unless that’s how you always perform?”
Katja stared at me silently.
“That’s what I figured.”
She took three steps forward and stopped short, looking torn. Like she needed to be close, but couldn’t. “You just threw me off guard. That’s all.”
“You can’t afford to be thrown off guard.”
And neither can I, I thought to myself.
“I know that, Mr. Sloan,” she bit out. “But I’ll play better tomorrow.”
My shoulders slumped as I reached out and gripped the edge of the piano. There should be no tomorrow. The best course of action would be to tell Tobias what really happened and be on the next flight back to the States. I stared down at the keys, trying to figure out where to go from here. I wanted to do this. For whatever delusional reason, I wanted to stay. If I did though, I would have to set some ground rules.
I pushed away from the piano and she watched me. I cleared my throat. “If I’m your teacher,” I started out slowly, “we have to push past everything that happened last night. It never happened. We stick to music. We stick to piano. That’s all.”
Her gaze flicked to mine. She stubbornly said nothing.
“I’m just your instructor,” I said. I don’t know why I said that. Probably for my own benefit. “Okay?” I urged.
Her chin lifted. She stared me hard in the eye. “Yes, Mr. Sloan.” She said it with rebellion, and she said it with a spark in her eye, and I realized that the girl from last night was still there, just hidden behind glasses and conservative clothes. But she was there.
We were both in trouble.
K A T J A
“Oh, this is great.”
I looked up from my plate and glared at Simone. She’d been laughing for the past five minutes.
“I’m sorry, but it is!” she said, her voice rising with each word.
“Friends should not get this much pleasure from their friend’s pain.”
Simone’s laughter died down. “You have to see why this is so funny to me. I told you that you should’ve never gone home with him.”
“You didn’t know he was my instructor,” I pointed out.
“No. But that’s just a happy coincidence.” She grinned and took a drink of water. “Imagine what it would be like if you would’ve never met him at the club.”
I groaned. “I’m not going to think about that right now.”
Simone shrugged. “I think you need to look at the pos
itives.”
“And those are?” I asked.
She jabbed her fork in my direction. “At least you didn’t sleep with him.”
“That’s your positive?”
“It’s a pretty damn good positive to have. Which one would you rather have? Getting hot and heavy with a guy that you don’t realize is your teacher, or having sex with said guy and realizing afterward that he’s your teacher?”
“Neither!” I dropped my face into my hands. “Do you know how awkward today was?”
“No, but tell me. Bitte.”
“It was four hours of him keeping a huge distance between us like I had the plague. He was literally across the room from me the whole day, barking out orders. And if I looked at him, he looked away. I couldn’t play anything today.” I stopped talking, staring down at my plate.
A silence stretched between us.
“He said it wasn’t a good idea to be my instructor,” I said quietly.
“What did you say to that?”
“I told him that he wouldn’t be a distraction to me.”
Simone gave me a look that said: Seriously?
“I didn’t play the piece perfectly, and he had this somber, almost bored expression on his face, and I just want to prove him wrong!”
The smile Simone had been sporting since I started talking disappeared. “You think you can move past all this … awkwardness?”
“I don’t know,” I muttered.
Last night was supposed to be just that. A night. A single moment where I could let go. I didn’t think my actions would seep into today.
“Do you have any suggestions on what I should do?”
Simone sighed and stood up from her chair. She sat on the edge of my seat and wrapped an arm around me. “I don’t know. I really, really don’t.”
K A T J A
It’d been a few weeks since Mathias became my teacher and I only saw him a few times. Always in passing. Whether it was on the street or in my grandparents’ house. The minute his eyes locked on me, his mouth would slightly open before it abruptly shut. His eyes would go blank and he would quickly look away.
At this point, there was no need for intense practices. A month before the showcase, my practices would be bumped up to two, maybe three, times a week.
