Love in B Minor

by Elodie Nowodazkij

  My phone rings and I glance at it—half hoping that it’s Lucas calling to apologize, but it’s my parents. When I don’t pick up, they call again. And seeing it’s super late in the night in the city, my throat tightens. What if something happened?

  “You can take that if you want. I’ll wait.”

  I’d love to ask her to leave but we’re in that music video together. And clearly she’s trying to do what’s best for Lucas. Letting him decide. I pick up the phone. “Hi Mom,” I answer and gesture I’m going in the bathroom.

  “How are you doing honey?” She asks, her tone worried.

  “I’m fine. I’m okay. Busy but good. Why are you calling at this time?”

  “I don’t know. I couldn’t sleep. And then I thought with the time difference I could check up on you. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m very sure. I’ll figure it out.”

  She breathes out as if she was relieved to hear my words and after chatting for a few more minutes, I promise to call her back tomorrow and we hang up.

  Olivia’s still sitting on my couch and she stands up when she sees me. “I really wanted to let you know that nothing happened.”

  “Why?” I can’t help but ask because even if she wants Lucas to make the decision of his own, she still wants him back. Us being mad at each other is actually a good way for her to get what she wants.

  “Because he was hurting and I hate seeing him hurt.” She glances away and I’m not sure I believe her—maybe it’s in the way she said the word ‘hurting’ like she didn’t care if he did hurt or not, but I let it slide. This situation is already as awkward as it can get and me being jealous—because that burning sensation in my chest feels a lot like jealousy—isn’t helping.

  “Listen, thank you for coming, but I have to get going.”

  She stands up and her hair floats around her face. Her cherry lips curve into a smile, but it’s not a warm smile, it’s more a “I’ve done what I was supposed to do” smile, as if telling me that nothing happened was one more way to prove to Lucas she’s changed. And it seems she has and I need to stop thinking about all of this, because the sharp pain in my heart hasn’t subsided ever since he slammed the door on our possible real beginning last night.

  “I’ll see you after our trip,” she says with a voice so full of honey that I’m going to get sick from too much sugar just listening to her.

  “Bye,” I tell her and close the door behind her. I lean against it for a second, my eyes trained to the ceiling. Rehearsals begin in an hour. I need to get moving and I need to get Lucas out of my mind.

  At least for now.

  ***

  The rest of the week is grueling. The rehearsals get harder each time and I don’t understand how Igor still has his voice after yelling at us for so many hours.

  “Steve is doing good. Super busy but good. Lucas, on the other hand, is apparently angry at the world, angry at himself and super sad.” Alisha links her arm with mine as we walk outside the studio and into the courtyard for a short break.

  “He hasn’t called,” I reply and even though I try to sound like I don’t care, my voice still sounds sad.

  “Steve said he and Dimitri want to talk to him. Maybe that will help.”

  I open my mouth. Then close it. I want to know what’s going on with Olivia. He told me it was over, but after her visit to my apartment, I know she’s definitely not over him and I’m not sure how I feel about all of this.

  Alisha pushes some of the gravel with her foot and then bumps her hip into mine in a sign of understanding. “Steve said Lucas is very professional with Olivia but that nothing is going on. Olivia seems to also not be pushing for anything right now.”

  Breathing in and out is easier after hearing her words. “I saw my therapist the other day.” My new doctor is helping. I was hesitant at first, confiding in someone new, but talking to him has helped alleviate some of my anxieties.

  “You told me.”

  “He asked me to recap some of what happened and then asked me about the particular moment Lucas and I fought.”

  Alisha pulls out a cigarette and lights it up. “This is the last one.” I raise one eyebrow at her and she continues. “And what did you figure out?”

  “That he was really on edge that night, that it hasn’t been easy for any of us. I’m basically less angry. I still want an explanation but I’m less angry.”

  Alisha nudges me. “You both need to be willing to fight for each other. It can’t be a one-way street.”

  I repeat her words. She’s right. I know she’s right. And maybe when Lucas is back, we can sit down and see where we’re at.

  I also realized that what happened to me in Cape Cod is my story to tell, if I want to tell it and right now I want to share it with Alisha. Because in the past weeks and months, she’s becoming a real friend.

  I give her the short version since we can’t be late for the second part of our rehearsal. When I’m done, I lean back on my heels, waiting for a reaction, any reaction. Worried that she might look at me differently but also more at ease with the fact that this story is part of me, part of who I am, but doesn’t define me.

  She blinks rapidly as if she’s trying not to cry, throws her cigarette in the ashtray and pulls me into a hug.

  “I’m sorry,” she says with tears in her voice. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.” She pauses and leans back with a small smile. “And it’s not pity, okay? It’s me being your friend and feeling bad you went through such a tough time.”

  I nod and smile back.

  “One minute!” We can overhear Igor yelling from the rehearsing room. He opened one of the small windows and pokes his head out. “You two, come back inside. Now!”

  “Yes, sir.” We both reply at the same time, and we stroll back inside, I feel more confident.

  CHAPTER 47 – LUCAS

  The views from our hotel are gorgeous. The mountains in the distance, the colors of the evening in the sky, the lake that’s frozen. The animal’s tracks making their way from tree to tree. It’s peaceful. Benji had always wanted to come here—in Font Romeu, which is close to the Spanish border, because that’s where the French national soccer team trained. He thought he could meet them, be like them. He never got to. We were supposed to go on tour the month after he died and he never go to travel here.

  The shots for the music video are even more meaningful for me. It’s even more meaningful that we do it here. The air is pure and the silence is welcoming after what happened in Paris.

  Olivia sits next to me. “We should go skiing tomorrow.”

  “I don’t feel like it. But you should go. I think Grégoire was thinking about it too.”

  She breathes out in the way she used to when she was annoyed, when she said I didn’t pay her enough attention. “You need to have some fun too,” she finally says before getting up. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Bye.” I keep on staring out of the window. My food—a cheesy potatoes dish—is getting cold, but I don’t care. Minutes pass. And I can’t get out of my head.

  “Man, we’ve got to talk.” Steve and Dimitri stand in front of me, with their arms crossed like they’re on a mission

  “What?” I didn’t intend to bark but I do. It sounds like I’m about to bite.

  “You’ve been in a shitty mood the entire week, and I have it from a good source that you blew up at Jen. She’s pissed. She’s hurt and she’s pissed.”

  There’s a shift in my chest. Hearing her name is a depressing music to my ear. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Dimitri pulls a chair and plops himself in front of me, while Steve sits on the bench next to me. Dimitri raises one eyebrow. He usually keeps out of the others’ personal lives, so he means business. “You need to think about three things. One, why did you get so upset. Two, what do you want—and I’m not talking professionally, I’m talking personally—and three, how can you get your
head out of your ass long enough to see you were most probably wrong?”

  My eyes widen, while Steve chuckles. “Well said. I stand with you getting your head out of your ass because again, according to my source—” He pauses and drinks some of my water. “By the way, the source has legs that don’t finish and my source is the sweetest and smartest…anyways, my source says that if you knew Jen, you’d know she’d never do that to you.”

  “But…”

  “No buts.” Dimitri stands back up. “Think about what I said and then think about ways to make it right. Even if you don’t get back together, she doesn’t deserve to be treated like shit just because you’re insecure.”

  Steve takes another sip of my water and stands up too. “What he said.” And they leave together. This trip definitely helped the band get closer before the release of our new song, before Steve’s big debut. I stare outside of the window. The darkness settles on the mountains. And my mind replays for the thousandth time what happened in Jen’s apartment. And for the thousandth time, I want to take my words back.

  ***

  How do you say you’re sorry to someone?

  My reaction was way too strong. And it was way too much based on my past without even giving her the benefit of the doubt. She has every right to be pissed at me, but not talking to her, not hearing her laugh, not joking with her and talking about history, is killing me.

  As soon as we’re back in Paris, I snap a picture of a plaque by the club we were at the first night we met, and I text it to her together with: “I was an asshole, no picture or Parks & Rec quote could save my assholery, but I am so sorry. I have a hard time believing happiness is at reach and trusting people.”

  She doesn’t answer right away. I wave to Karim at the club and in French ask him, “You never called me about that mugger, did everything go okay?”

  “Bigger fish was caught.” He smiles and opens the door for me. “Where is your lady friend?”

  “Hopefully I didn’t screw it up completely.”

  My phone buzzes and I fumble to open the text. “I know. I have issues but I’m working on mine. I think you should work on yours.” And maybe she’s right. Maybe, I should.

  I’ll think about it. Can you please come to our club?

  Our club? I thought it was Bjorn the Actor’s club?

  He’s not there. Promise. I miss you.

  I miss you too.

  Let’s start over.

  No.

  No? I gulp my drink as I read her answer. I can see she’s typing again.

  I don’t want to pretend the past weeks didn’t happen. A relationship isn’t always about songs and it’s not always magic. What I want is to move forward…with you. Or at least see you and see if I’m still super mad or only a little bit mad.

  I smile at her answer. When can you get here?

  Give me twenty minutes.

  I’ll give you all the time in the world. And I add a winking smiley because I know she’s going to get my cheesiness. Because in true Parks & Rec fashion, she’s the April to my Andy.

  That would be a long time to sit in that club. I’m pretty sure they close at 5 a.m.

  This time my chuckle is louder. I can’t wait to see her, to wrap my arms around her. To be with her. Because I trust her, because I want to move forward.

  She arrives right on time. “You’re much cuter than Bjorn the Actor—you should have totally bought me a drink that night.”

  “I baked you cookies.”

  She bites the side of her lower lip, and I’m not sure she realizes it but my gaze focuses on her mouth.

  “They were delicious cookies,” she replies. And then clears her throat. “How were the mountains?”

  “They were inspirational. I talked a lot with Dimitri and Steve. And then I thought a lot. I realized I’m putting my past on you, and I don’t want to do that.”

  “I do the same. I mean, I think you can’t escape your past. You can’t just forget about it, but I do believe that you rushed to conclusions. I thought you knew me, and you thinking that I’d do anything to hurt you… That was painful.”

  “I think it was because of seeing Olivia again and remembering all those times she basically used me to move forward. And then remembering all those rumors about her and Benji. It was tough and I’m so sorry I ended up projecting on you. It wasn’t fair.”

  “Thank you. For saying that. I am not taking back what I said about the show. If you don’t want to do it, it’s your decision and I would need to accept it, but it’s important to me, because it’s important to the company and to the people I dance with.”

  I link my fingers with hers, revealing in the feel of her skin against mine, anticipating what might be. And a side of my mouth curves up into a small smile before I kiss each of her knuckles. “I know. And I respect that. And I’ll do it.”

  “Really? Not because you want to get in my pants, right?”

  I lean forward until we almost touch. I can feel her body slightly move forward too, like it cannot wait to melt into mine. “That’s just an added bonus.” And our breaths mix, our lips meet, I’m the one melting in her arms.

  CHAPTER 48 – JEN

  The way back to my apartment is all laughter and serious conversations and jokes and deep thoughts. It’s everything. Our hips keep on bumping against one another as if we were trying to find additional ways to connect.

  My body hums in harmony with his voice. Those stupid rules we tried to follow were only the walls we tried so hard to erect around ourselves. So what if more stories will come out? So what if people are going to know I made mistakes? Grégoire has decided the best moment to share my story would be the day the video is released. He’s planning interviews based on the email I got earlier from him. So what if they think I’m the troublemaker between Lucas and Olivia? I understand now that their relationship was over even before Benji passed away. They grew apart. She’s right about one thing: the pictures and the lies were not the reason Lucas left her, it was that they took separate paths.

  We turn into my street and into my building. “Race you to the top,” I say, laughing and climbing stairs as quickly as possible, but I’m not fast enough and Lucas catches me by the waist.

  “I’m not letting you go,” he whispers in my ear, and his strong arm around me sends waves of heat throughout my body. A delicious tingle runs down my spine.

  “Are you going to bake me cookies?” My voice is husky and full of want. Before I might have tried to turn it down, but no longer. I can no longer deny myself.

  “Maybe…do you even have the right utensils?”

  “Hey…” I protest but then laugh with him, because he’s right, I probably don’t.

  My fingers shake from anticipation but I manage to unlock my front door. And as soon as we’re inside, his mouth is on mine, taking and giving. And my back is against the door. I pepper kisses on his neck and his smell—a mix of cologne and Paris and the now and the future—envelops me. I shrug out of my coat and my cardigan, and his fingers find the hem of my shirt and he slowly, very slowly raises it, teasing me and tempting me. Touching my skin that’s on fire.

  “Come on.” I breathe out and he finally takes my shirt off; I do the same with his and his skin is against mine. His skin is warm and paler than mine. My fingers trail up and down his muscular torso and my lips follow the same path. He leans back and watches me and his gaze on me is an additional turn-on—it makes me feel wanted and beautiful.

  “I want you so much,” he tells me before kissing me again. And then his hands are everywhere. And it’s even better than what I remember. He pulls me up and my legs wrap around his waist, he walks us to my bed and at first he takes his time and I take mine. We explore each other’s bodies but then, it’s like we can no longer wait. And when we’re finally one, I close my eyes.

  ***

  The next morning is not awkward. It’s fun and playful and sexy.

  “Are you sure you have t
o go?” he asks, pulling me back to him.

  “I do have to go. Grégoire sent me another email about meeting him for coffee to discuss the interviews he has in mind for my big reveal.” Lucas’ body is warm and comfy.

  “I’m sorry you have to do that,” he says, with one finger trailing down my naked arm, giving me the most pleasurable goosebumps.

  “I’m not. I think it might be good to talk about it. Not only for me, but for others, you know. Like, I started taking drugs when I was dancing. And clearly I wasn’t the only one. And then this need to fit it. This fear of saying ‘no’ back then—I’m sure I’m not the only one.” I kiss his cheek, because if I kiss him the way I want to, I’ll never leave. “My therapist said that if I felt strong enough to do it, and if I felt like I could help people, it might be good for me too.”

  “You’re amazing.” His eyes hold so much awe and so much tenderness in them that I want to bottle the feeling I have and keep it forever.

  “Thank you. You too. Now let me go, otherwise Grégoire is going to yell and you know it’s not good for his health.” I stand up. “The door will lock itself behind you. I’ll see you at the shooting later today?”

  “Are you ready for the choreography?”

  “According to Igor, I’m as ready as I will be.”

  And I head out with his laughter resonating in my mind and in my heart. Grégoire wants to meet in a place on the outskirts of Paris I’m not very familiar with yet, so I use my phone for direction. One train ride later I should be close by. At least it’s not dark outside because this place seems shady. I turn into a street where the windows of the houses are broken. Some guy whistles as I walk by and I ignore him, which earns me a call of “Bitch,” and even the fact it’s said in French doesn’t make it less insulting I’m about to text Grégoire when I hear her.