by Lily Kay
At least I’d be comfortable in my black athletic skort and solid periwinkle tank. I’d take comfort over style any day, though Sierra would say if I wanted to catch a guy’s attention, spending more than two minutes putting myself together in the morning was a prerequisite.
Mickelson walked us through the syllabus, pointing out the major full-orchestration composition piece due at the end of the semester. In addition, we had to compose minor pieces reflecting different subgenres of music like Movie Scores, Broadway, Symphonic Band, and Chamber Orchestra.
For our first assignment, we’d work in pairs and discuss our vision for our major piece. What mood would we try to portray? Who is the audience? Instrumentation? Large ensemble? Quartet? A mixture? While we weren’t marrying our idea today, our goal was to get our thoughts in the air and perhaps on paper.
With no one sitting next to me, I waited in silence, observing the classroom as people chose the person seated next to them. As the lone graduate student, Mickelson pulled Gavin aside and discussed his movie scores.
After a minute, Mickelson paused and turned toward me. “Louise? Are we not participating today?”
“Um. No sir. I mean, yes sir.” My lower lip disappeared behind my teeth.
“Well, then, I suggest you find a partner, which means you shall remove your bottom from the chair and use your legs for walking.”
He literally made a V with his first two fingers and swished them back and forth on the top of his palm.
“Yes. But―”
“No butts. Perhaps one lifting from the chair.” The finger walking halted, followed by a pointed finger air-circling the room.
I scanned the room one more time and saw everyone partnered. I stood up as my shoulders slumped a bit. “Should I form a triad with another group? Everyone already has a partner.”
“Nonsense. There are an even number of students in this class, there shouldn’t be an odd person out.”
Gavin suppressed a grin this time, catching my eye. We both waited for Mickelson to realize why I lingered without a partner.
I tried one more time. “Yes, sir.”
Mickelson took another look around, scrunched his face and then patted his lips with his forefinger.
“Ah yes. Quite right you are, Louise. Quite right. I suppose your butt doesn’t have to move after all. Here, you partner with Gavin and I’ll mosey around.”
I sat back down, and Gavin turned his desk to face mine. When Mickelson meandered toward the front of the room, we both smothered a snigger.
“He’s one of the best composers in the country.” Gavin reared his head behind to make sure Mickelson stayed at the front of the classroom. “But I suspect with his genius comes some interesting quirks.”
“Ya think?”
I still couldn’t figure out if Mickelson liked me or my writing. He rarely gave compliments to anyone. We all were in the dark until grades were released. But we were still in his studio. If he didn’t like you, he not-so-gently suggested you transfer to one of the other two composition professors.
“Right.” I tried sounding professional and mature, and not like a giggling school girl saying hi to my crush for the very first time. “Do you have another movie lined up? Where you can kill two birds with one stone on this assignment?”
Gavin watched me for a moment and nodded. “I’ve got something lined up.”
“Can you talk about it at all? At least tell me the type of movie it is? For our discussion today, of course.” My heart thumped. Navigating normal conversation with a man who made me lightheaded remained harder than I thought.
“Sure, but it’s top secret. I’ll have to kill you after I tell you,” he teased.
“Hm. Not sure today’s assignment is worth the mess. To be fair, the wrath of Mickelson can be frightening. But I’ll take life over death. Not to belittle your opportunity.” My arms crossed, resting on the table in front of me.
“Of course.” He winked.
OMG, he winked at me. Again. This now made two times he winked and yes, I counted. Later I’ll have to consult Emmy and Sierra on various meanings of winks.
“It’s for a historical war movie coming out in eighteen months,” Gavin mentioned.
“You can’t tell me the name?” As we both leaned in toward each other, I thought for sure he’d confide in me.
“Afraid not. But I’m sure if you googled it.” He cocked his head to the side and gave me a tight-lipped smile. Not a straight out reveal, but cryptic directions coupled with the chance to smell him up close.
For real, I started contemplating ways to figure out what soap he used again without seeming stalker weird. And what were we talking about? Right, his movie.
I responded, casting my investigation of his soap aside. “Ah. Got it. My lips are sealed but my fingers are just getting started. Later on, with my computer they will be.” I made the gesture of my fingers typing in the air. “When I google.”
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, what was wrong with me?
Gavin’s smile remained, but his eyes narrowed a bit more. “Okay, Louie. Promise me you won’t say anything? It’s supposed to be under wraps now. They have all these rules about when they can announce what with movies.”
“Uh, sure. I definitely wouldn’t. Does Nick know? Can I say something to him?”
Gavin shrugged. “Sure, he knows. I’m working on a couple songs with him.”
“Sweet.” I’d have choice words for Nick later. Can’t believe he didn’t tell me. “You’re doing the entire score?” I relaxed into the back of my chair as a short distance grew between me and the table. Gavin assumed a similar position and then leaned his arms against the edge of the table behind him.
“Yeah, I’m stoked. It’s my first complete film score.”
“Amazing. I mean. Sweet. Again.”
“Thanks.” He shrugged.
“I imagine you’ll be doing a lot of angry music or heavy beats?”
The more I soaked in his hotness and the sweet rich baritone of his voice, the more difficult coherent conversation became.
“Actually, a little of everything. There’ll be a lot of melancholy pieces throughout, but I get to have some reprieve with a couple of uplifting songs. And there’s a love story woven in, of course,” he answered.
“Of course.” I didn’t know what else to say because, maybe my imagination overreacted, but he stared way too intently into my eyes. Okay, maybe I stared more intently than him.
Regardless, the moment broke when he sat up in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. “What about you? What type of piece are you wanting to write for the final?”
I breathed deep and exhaled. Because the song I had performed on Monday was part of it. “Well, you already heard some of it in Gupta’s studio this week.”
“Ah.” He nodded a few times. “You have a lot of talent. It’s a little mysterious, but I like when music provides a window into a hidden world of its author. Something yours does.”
I think he complimented me?
“Will the entire piece have a similar tone and mood to it or will it vary?” he asked.
“I don’t know at this point. I know Mickelson likes us to have at least three movements for our final piece. At least for us undergrads. I suspect I’ll write something a little more upbeat for one of them, and then the final piece can be a compilation of the two with a nuance on the main melody.”
I refused to share my hidden world with Gavin, yet.
“Sounds good. It’s a beautiful piece, by the way. I’m sure you’ll find some creative ways to work with the melody. Will it be full orchestration?”
I tapped my pencil against my notepad and resisted twirling my fingers in his slightly wavy and disheveled hair.
“Lou?”
Shit, paused too
long thinking about his hair. What did he ask? Oh, right. Orchestration. “I think it will be. Sort of building like a bolero, adding instruments in after each eight-measure count. I suppose I’m open to suggestions.”
“Well, I’m happy to bounce ideas with you, if you ever find yourself in a writer’s block.”
My attention peaked. “Yeah?” Did he want to spend time with me? Spend more time with me? Because he might have some smidgen of an interest in me?
Gavin squashed my string of wishful thinking. “I think Mickelson wants us to have a sparring partner throughout the semester. We originally were partners, but that would leave you without one.” Gavin shrugged. “I guess this means we’re together.”
“Oh, oh okay.” Hm. Not Gavin’s idea after all. He was already aware what Mickelson had planned, and because I sat near him, I guess it did make sense we’d end up as partners.
Mickelson interrupted our discussion and relayed what Gavin revealed moments earlier. “The person you are partnered with will be your musical soundboard for the remainder of the semester. Don’t abuse the relationship. Use it wisely. You all have multiple assignments and other classes to attend to. But don’t go it solo, either. Especially if you require feedback and a critical ear. Any questions?”
One of the seniors raised her hand. “Yes, Angelica?”
“No offense to my partner here, but can we switch at all or is it stuck in stone.” Angelica sat next to a new freshman, but her eyes wandered toward Gavin.
“No, no switching. We all have talent. And even a young freshman like Daniel, here, can provide excellent insight. Any other questions?” Sucked for Angelica, bonus for me.
We all surveyed each other and waited.
“No questions? Good, good. Class is dismissed. Next week I want eight measures of a main melody, single instrument is fine. See you next Friday.” Mickelson scratched his ear and ambled out of the classroom.
I leaned forward in my chair and sympathized with Gavin. “Looks like you were right. You’re stuck with me.”
He turned in his seat to face me and lifted a shoulder. “It’s not ideal, since I looked forward to working more closely with Dr. Mickelson, but”—he finished putting his notebook away and stood up—“you’re much prettier to look at than him.”
Should I have been offended? Because I wasn’t obviously as talented as Mickelson. Or because he thought me prettier than the old crotchety professor? Not a stretch, either. I remained mute and followed Gavin’s exit from the classroom.
Chapter 6
After composition class, the weekend commenced. I immediately texted Emmy and Sierra and told them we were meeting at the local coffee shop, Runnin’ Beans, stat.
The girls would help me wrap my head around my Gavin interactions and what it all meant. Was I reading too much into everything? Was I in lala land? Was he a flirt or, worse, a total douchebag?
“What’d he say?” Emmy sipped her iced Frappuccino, while Sierra nursed fresh squeezed lemonade.
“He essentially talked about how bummed he felt not partnering with Mickelson, but at least he enjoyed looming at me more. Who says that? Like he literally admitted his disappointment partnering with me.”
“Smooth.” Sierra mumbled as she bit into her blueberry muffin. “Although, if he went from being partnered with a world-famous composer to a junior in college, I can understand why he might feel a little disappointed.”
“I suppose I can see it, too. But he could’ve stretched the truth a little.” I inhaled deeply, my frustration lowered down a notch with each sniff of my almond steamer.
“Would you prefer he lied?” Emmy interjected.
“No, I guess not. But at least let me down easy.” Overreact much? Then again, when did I not overreact when it came to boys?
“He did say you were prettier to look at. Progress, right?” Sierra the optimist.
“Well.” Emmy paused and tapped her pointer finger on her upper lip. “Was he being all cutesy flirty with you or solemn and annoyed.”
I wolfed down a quarter of my own almond poppy seed muffin. “I don’t think he was annoyed, and he did wink at me once. That’s flirting, right?”
“No offense, Lou. But sometimes you have a bad habit of automatically assuming the worst,” Sierra interjected. “And yes, winking can be a form of flirting.” She swallowed the last of her muffin.
“Hm. I still think you should say something to him.” Emmy swept a coil of brown hair behind her ear. “Again, he’s never going to know you like him unless you either flirt with him or tell him.”
I scoffed. “Uh, ladies? Remember who you’re talking to?” I pointed my finger down at the top of my head. “I don’t flirt. And I’m not about to start practicing on Gavin.”
“Why not?” Sierra asked. “You know we could help you out, give you some pointers and tips. Besides, what harm is there? You could pretend to always be flirty and if he doesn’t return the sentiments, you can cough up your behavior to normalcy.”
“Yep,” Emmy added.
“You know what? Y'all are crazy.” Both Emmy and Sierra sat on the edge of their seats, smiling a little too wide.
“What d’ya have to lose?” Sierra’s bug-eyes pinned me, daring me to counter her with my excuses.
Fear of having love and losing it paralyzed me. My response proved generic and safe. “I don’t know, my dignity? I’ve never been the flirty girl drooling over dudes. I can’t pretend to be someone I’m not.”
Fine, sue me. Anxiety of a dreaded rejection engulfed me. My energy waned thinking of explaining to my friends again, the whole rejection-abandonment thing. Not the right time, and I got the feeling they would never quite understand.
Sure, they were sympathetic, but virtually impossible for them to appreciate what it’s like to have not only family, but an entire country wanting to get rid of me.
Didn’t make me feel all warm and fuzzy toward Korea, nor did it encourage me to establish close ties with too many people, especially in a romantic sense.
“I think you can be flirty. But you’ve hunkered down in your own little bubble for your entire life, you think what we’re proposing is impossible. It’s not. And people change, you know,” Emmy said.
“I know. I appreciate the help, ladies. But I don’t have the guts, and I’m not about to be like every other girl on campus and fling myself on him. Bad form, if you ask me.” I gulped the remainder of my now lukewarm steamer and fiddled with the empty white mug.
“You’d be flirting, not flinging.” Sierra narrowed her eyes at me and paused.
I wondered how much she’d push this flirting business.
Huzzah, she relented. “Fine, suit yourself. I’ll back off for now. But I’m not going to let you sit back and do nothing about it if you do like this guy.”
“I didn’t say anything about anything. I can’t right now. I’m not ready yet.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
Sierra sighed again, and Emmy nodded, reassuring me with a smile.
Sierra sat up in her seat. “All right, ladies. What are we doing tonight? Nick’s playing at Groove, right?”
“Yep, and you know what he’s like when we miss a gig. Especially the first one of the season. You’d think the sky was about to fall if we didn’t show up,” I said.
~ ~ ~
The sun disappeared when we arrived at Groove. We headed straight to the front of the line and caught the bouncer’s attention. Simon nodded and let us in. Perks of Nick putting us on the VIP list.
We found our reserved corner booth, and sat down, waiting for someone to take our orders. I jonesed for their French fries, and Matt scanned the menu for his second dinner.
“Not out with the professor tonight?” Sierra asked. “What, is she too busy, oh, I don’t know, hanging out with her husband?”
> “Yup, pretty much,” Matt responded.
“And you don’t care?” Emmy asked, chewing on the straw accompanying our waters.
“Why should I care? It’s not like I want her to leave her husband for me. I’m having a good time, is all.”
Emmy shook her head. “Still confuses the hell out of me, their whole open relationship thing.”
Emmy’s comment echoed my sentiments.
Sure, they were all consenting adults in this, including the professor’s husband. But it still boggled my brain thinking about the idea of loving someone but having sex with more than one person. Sleeping with one person, let alone several, least of all at the same time, would never happen. Matt assured us everyone was “all good” with the arrangement.
Matt peered over the top of his menu. “It’s just sex.”
“Actually, it’s not just sex,” I amended. “You know you could get her ass fired. Tread carefully, young Padawan.”
Matt tsked and focused on his menu. Because ignoring me would make the awkward relationship with his advisor go away.
“Yep, double bacon cheeseburger sounds mighty excellent.” He placed his menu down, and grinned. Sometimes I wondered why he even bothered reading the menu, since he had it memorized.
Knowing Matt finished talking about the professor, I faced him. “I swear, what person wouldn’t die for your metabolism.” Jealousy didn’t touch upon my feelings regarding his ability to eat three thousand calories and not gain an inch of fat.
Matt worked out a lot and apparently September through December equated his “bulking” phase where he ate more calories to grow more muscle.
Sierra moaned. “Why can’t women gorge on food? I’d be a beached whale if I ate half as much as you.”
“Nah, mountain-goat. All you gotta do is lift.” Matt started calling Sierra mountain goat at the beginning of the semester and still refused to tell us why. My best guess? She and mountain goats roamed Colorado.
