Eternal Heat

by Jordyn White

  “Nah, it’d be cool.”

  I smile tentatively.

  “It’d be nice,” he adds.

  I grin. “Well, okay. Maybe.”

  He smiles and my heart really lets loose this time. He’s cute and sweet and can play the piano like the devil. Oh yeah. I could crush on this boy hard.

  “Good.” He’s still smiling. I turn to let myself through the gate. Rather than closing it between us, he steps out onto the green. “Tomorrow?”

  I smile. I hesitate. Finally I say, “Okay.”

  “Cool. See you tomorrow, Ashley.”

  My heart hasn’t slowed one bit. “Okay. Bye, Erik.”

  We give each other shy waves goodbye and I head back toward the Greenbelt. Halfway there I look back. He’s gone, but still, I wait until I’m back on the path and truly out of sight before I give a little skip and clasp my hands to my chest. I can’t wait for tomorrow.

  Chapter 3

  Friday of that week, Erik and I are sitting cross-legged on the floor of his living room, sheet music from the bookcase in haphazard stacks around us. I did go back on Tuesday, and have been back every day this week. I already feel like we’ve been friends for months instead of only a few days.

  I still haven’t met his parents, since I have to be home well before they tend to walk in the door. His dad is a high-end lawyer and his mom is the CFO of a cosmetics company with locations in five different states. Erik told me half the time they’re not even home for dinner.

  I did finally tell my parents about my new friend, mainly so I could stay longer without arousing suspicion, but I didn’t mention that we’re here alone. Even though Erik and I haven’t so much as kissed, my dad would go ballistic if he knew I was alone with a boy like this. (That’s the reason my mom and I decided not to tell my dad when Bernie Shepherd kissed me after Prom last year. Bernie and I never really turned into much, so there was no reason to freak my dad out about nothing.)

  Besides, me being here is kinda sorta innocent, if you don’t count the way Erik makes my heart flutter when I’m with him or the fantasizing I do about him when I’m not.

  Every day I’ve returned, he’s already been changed out of his school uniform. Today, he’s wearing jeans and a plain, black tee that makes him look extra hot. I’m wearing my favorite stonewashed jeans and a flowy peasant top. “This is a good one.” Erik holds up the little booklet of sheet music so I can see the title.

  It’s a classical piece by Chopin, but I’m not familiar with it. I take it from him and open it up so I can look over the measures. As I go, I can hear it in my head. Actually, I think I might have heard this one before but I’m not sure. I hum a few bars. “Like that?”

  He nods. “Have you played it?”

  “Nope.” I close the book and add it to the “Songs to Learn” pile. I’ve already played him many of the songs I know, and he’s played me several of his as well. We’re looking through his stash of music to see what I should learn to play next. I’ve noticed some of the songs have hand-written notations at various places along the measures.

  “I don’t know how I’m going to pick just one.” I pull another book off the shelf.

  “Maybe you should stop looking for more then,” he teases. “Besides, these aren’t going anywhere, you know.”

  “I guess.” I continue flipping through the book. “Hey, I know this one!”

  “I haven’t learned that one yet.” He scoots closer to me and looks over my shoulder. My heart rate increases in response, but I’m pretty good at holding it together around him. I even survived watching an episode of Lost on his fancy, new iPad yesterday, and that was with his shoulder pressed against mine almost the entire time. I didn’t fall in love with the series as much as he promised me I would, but I still agreed to watch the rest with him some time. Because, you know, the shoulder.

  “It’s a fun song.” I tap the page with my finger. “You should play it while I finally pick something. Then it’ll be my turn.”

  I plop the book in his lap and scoot the “Songs to Learn” pile closer to me.

  “I told you, silly, I don’t know this song.”

  I look at him and furrow my brows. “Can’t you read music?”

  He laughs. “Uh, yeah I can read music. But you can’t just sit down and start playing a song you don’t know.”

  “Well, it doesn’t have to be perfect.” I smile wickedly. It’s only been four days and I already know a way to tease him.

  He rolls his eyes and stands up, holding the music. “I’m not a perfectionist.”

  “Are too.” I start spreading the stack in front of me, hoping there will be one clear winner among them, but so far there isn’t. Ugh, how will I ever choose? I want to play all of them right now.

  Erik has settled himself on the bench behind me and begins to play. As usual, listening to him causes me to stop what I’m doing. But this time, it’s for a different reason. He keeps stumbling at various places, and once even goes back and redoes a measure before going forward in the piece again.

  I’m surprised how much he’s fumbling through it. When he gets to the end, he nods. “Yeah, that’s cool. Maybe I’ll learn this one next.”

  He turns and smiles down at me. I’m not sure what to say. What I’m thinking is, Don’t you know how to read music better than that?

  My phone dings and I pull it out of my pocket to check it.

  Mom: Remember we have to leave at five sharp.

  “Oh right.” I check the time. “Dang it. I have to go.”

  I text back a quick: K.

  “Right.” He sounds a little disappointed. “Movie night.”

  I nod. Movie Night has been a Morrison family tradition for a couple years now. Usually we just rent something from Redbox, but every now and then we splurge and go to the dollar theatre, like tonight.

  “I’ve still never heard of a family that uses up their senior daughter’s Friday night every single week.” Now it’s his turn to tease me.

  “I think that’s the point. That way I can’t get into trouble with boys.”

  Erik gives me a grin that makes my cheeks hot. I smile and look away, gathering the music back into a pile again. “Should we put this back on the shelves?”

  “Did you pick a song?”

  “I can’t. There’s too many good ones. Will you pick one for me?”

  “Okay. You can leave it. I’ll put it away. I know you have to go.”

  I sigh and stand. As he walks me to the back gate, like he always does, I realize I’m not sure how weekends fit into our friendship. I’ve been coming every day after school, but what happens tomorrow? Then I have to remind myself that he probably doesn’t want to see me every day. I mean, we just met. And probably he does stuff with his family on the weekends. Or, maybe he does. Actually, I’m not so sure.

  “So...” he says hesitantly, after we go through the gate.

  “So...” I say hesitantly too, “um... shall I come work on it... next week sometime?”

  He looks at me, holding my gaze. Those beautiful, deep brown eyes. Oh man, my heart’s really going now. I wonder, not for the first time, what it would be like to kiss Erik Williams.

  “What are you doing tomorrow?”

  I smile and shrug. “Nothing much. Chores in the morning, but nothing after that.”

  He smiles, too. “Nothing in the afternoon?”

  I shake my head. The way he’s smiling at me makes me feel bold. “Want to play then?” I suggest.

  His smile falters a bit before he hitches it back on. “I was thinking we could go for a walk on the Greenbelt. I feel guilty I’ve been keeping you from your walks.”

  “Oh, okay. That’d be cool.” I actually really like the idea of a walk with Erik, but something about the way he responded to my suggestion is nagging me, way in the back of my head.

  “Want to meet at the sign?” He gestures to the “Private” sign next to the Greenbelt. “Say, one o’clock?”

  “Sure,” I say smiling. “S
ee you then.”

  I hurry back home, but that nagging feeling follows me the whole way.

  When I get to the sign five minutes to one the next day, Erik is already there waiting for me. He’s wearing shorts and a sleeveless athletic top and when I see him I think I’m going to die. His arms are long and sinewy and defined. His legs are tanned and muscular. I remember now something he told me on Tuesday—that he likes to go for runs on the Greenbelt—but I forgot. I guess we’ve both neglected our love for the Greenbelt this past week.

  He smiles and slowly starts toward me when he sees me. I think I see his eyes sweep up and down my body—I’m in my plaid shorts and a snug tee—but I’m not sure.

  “Hey,” he says, as I draw near.

  “Hey. Which way do you want to go?”

  “Whatever you want.”

  “Let’s go that way.” I point farther down the Greenbelt. I miss my bridge and like the idea of going there with him.

  He agrees and we head down the path. Almost immediately, an awkward silence swells between us. I’m not sure what to say. It occurs to me that maybe we don’t really have much in common outside of the piano. But at the same time, I know that’s not really true because we’ve talked about plenty of other things. Why does it feel so awkward right now?

  “How was the movie last night?” he asks.

  Relieved to have something to say, I start telling him about it. And just like that, the awkward part is over and we’re chatting easily. When we get to the bridge, we don’t stop at the top like I usually do. We continue on, entertaining each other with funny stories about our teachers. His chemistry teacher last year sounds like a crazy old coot and I think my chemistry class would have been a helluva lot more interesting if I’d had someone as entertaining as that guy.

  I’m pleased to see that whenever there’s a little hidden footpath that breaks away toward the river, Erik likes to follow them as much as I do. Even though I’ve already been down them all, I love winding through the trees, ducking under branches, and going right up to the river’s edge where the water plays its music best.

  When we head down these little paths, it feels more intimate, too. Like we’re all alone in the world. It’s even more private than when we’re in his home all by ourselves, but I’m not sure why. Still, every time we go back to the main Greenbelt with its broad, tree-lined lane and occasional jogger, I’m disappointed to leave the privacy behind.

  Our conversation has lingered on school and I’ve taken to asking him questions about the private school he attends. In some ways it sounds different than what I know—his school is definitely smaller—but in other ways it’s the same: classes, teachers, homework. He makes it sound less like a foreign world and more like what I guess it is: just a school.

  We get to the point on the Greenbelt where I usually turn around and go back, but we keep going. I like that I’m discovering something new with him.

  There are new side paths to follow, some as faint as a deer trail. One leads to an inviting grassy area shaded by a massive oak.

  “This is nice,” he says. “Wanna sit here?”

  “Sure.” I find a soft spot and sit down. He sits down next to me, but lays all the way back, tucking his hands behind his head. I grin and lay down next to him, pulling my braids in front and resting my hands on my stomach. My shoulder is touching his arm and feeling all electric about it.

  The broad canopy of branches arches above us. Their dark arms spider out against the bright green of the leaves, blue sky peeking through.

  “This is the best way to look at a tree,” I say.

  “Yeah.”

  My attention’s a little divided though. I really want to kiss him. But I’ve only known him a week and maybe he only wants to be friends. I don’t want to mess anything up. Besides, I’ve only ever let one guy kiss me. I’ve never been the one to make the first move. So I’m just going to lay here feeling tingly and play with the end of my braid and pretend I’m very, very interested in looking at the tree.

  He rolls toward me slightly and my heart catches in my throat. He was just retrieving his phone out of his pocket.

  “Are you game for episode two of Lost?”

  “Here?” I’m still not used to the idea of watching movies on phones and tablets. The Morrison house isn’t exactly down with the latest technology. “Wouldn’t it be more comfortable at your place?”

  His smile falters and he hesitates.

  Now I know what the nagging feeling was from yesterday. “You don’t want me to meet your parents,” I say, a sick feeling settling in the pit my stomach. “Do you?”

  He puts his phone on his stomach and looks back up at the branches. “No,” he says simply.

  “Because I’m not rich?” I didn’t mean to say it, but I do think it.

  He looks at me quickly. “What? Of course not. Do you think I care about that?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know.”

  “So are you my friend only because I have money?”

  “No!”

  “Well, how is it different?”

  I exhale. “Okay, maybe it’s not. But why don’t you want me to meet your parents?”

  He faces back to the tree again, and says with a dull voice, “It’s my dad, mostly. He’s just kind of... hard to get used to.”

  I frown. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, he’s just hard in general. I don’t know. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. And I guess I don’t want to be uncomfortable.”

  Wow. Is his dad really that bad?

  “I’m sorry,” he says.

  He’s frowning and starting to look a little upset. I lightly bump his arm with mine. “Hey. It’s okay.”

  He looks at me and I give him a smile.

  He’s still frowning. “It’s really not you. I think you’re great.”

  My smile broadens and I feel the heat rising to my cheeks. I hate it when I blush! I bump him with my arm again. “Are we going to watch Lost or what?”

  So we do. By the end of episode two, I’m hooked and ask for more. Somehow my head has ended up resting on his arm. I don’t mind that either. We binge watch four more episodes and only stop because we’re both starving and his battery’s nearly dead.

  “Next time we need to bring snacks,” he says on our way back down the Greenbelt.

  “Definitely.” I’m pleased that he’s already talking about a next time.

  When we get to the bridge, I slow my steps so it’s easier to stop at the top. He follows my lead and we lean on the rail, looking at the river stretching away from us. His arm is pressed against mine, shoulder to elbow. Still looking at the water, he bumps me gently with his hip. I smile and bump him back.

  We look at each other, both grinning. Our eyes lock in a way they haven’t before. My heart is pounding more than it ever has around him, because I think he’s going to kiss me. I hold his eyes because I want him to. Then just like that, like it’s the easiest thing in the world, Erik Williams leans in and gives me a kiss. His lips are so soft on mine, I think I’m going to float away over the river. This is nothing like the awkward kiss Bernie Shepherd gave me.

  Erik pulls away slowly. We both smile at each other and I look down at the river, blushing. I feel silly, like a little kid, but also amazing, like something big inside me is different now. Still smiling, I glance at him. His eyes are still on me and he’s giving me a look that makes me feel weak. I want to kiss him again, but I’m not sure how to manage it. Still smiling, I hold his eyes and lean in the tiniest bit. It turns out that’s all it takes.

  His lips press against mine again. I love him this close to me. This time his fingertips just barely brush the underside of my jaw. I think my knees are going to give out. Part of me wants to keep going, but the other part of me feels a little relieved when he pulls away. I think this is all I can handle for the moment.

  This is definitely nothing like kissing Bernie. By comparison, Bernie and I were kids playing at something. But with Erik, everything
feels more real.

  “Come on.” He gently nudges me with his shoulder. He pulls my hand into his and we take our time going back.

  Chapter 4

  I didn’t get to see him Sunday—his family actually had plans—but we’ve finally exchanged numbers, so we’ve texted plenty. I offered some speculation on the future of Sun and Jin in Lost, but he wouldn’t say if I was right or not. We also discussed which song he should teach me first and finally settled on a sonata by Clementi. After a brief kiss when I showed up at his house today after school, we got straight to it. He already had the sheet music on the piano, waiting for me.

  “This is different from the one I saw,” I say as we settle next to each other on the bench.

  “I got you a copy so you could make your own notes on it.”

  I roll my eyes. “Well that defeats the whole purpose of borrowing what you have here.”

  He shrugs. “Go ahead and run through it, then we can talk about it.”

  He’s taking on what I imagine to be the demeanor of a piano teacher starting a lesson. It’s adorable. Also, pretty exciting. I want to learn whatever he’s willing to teach me.

  I turn my attention to the sheet music and do what I usually do before starting on a brand new piece. I keep my hands on my lap and run my eyes along the music. I keep proper time, hearing the music in my head as I go along, and imagine my fingers playing the chords. When I get to the end, I take a deep breath, place my fingers on the keys (I’m still so in love with this piano), and play what I just heard in my head.

  It always sounds so much better in real life. Imagining it in my mind is one thing, but when the music is really here it’s like it’s been set free and wants to climb to the rafters. And these rafters are a lot higher than the music room at school! I’m still not done drooling over how much better the acoustics are in this house.

  Even though I’m deep in the rabbit hole of the music, as I run over the places I know I could play better with practice, or differently now that I’ve tried it once and think I know a better way, I mentally make note of them like I always do. I’ll ask Erik about those places first. I’m not as polished as he is, I can hear that clearly. I want to try to learn what he knows.