Compose_The Arts Series

by Lily Kay

  ~ ~ ~

  After clearing off the table, Gavin and Nick moseyed to the living room, and collaborated on a new song. “Lou, you don’t mind if Gavin uses your keyboard?” Nick asked.

  “Nope, it’s all yours.”

  I retreated into my room and pondered all the ways I could procrastinate finishing my theory homework. I could ask Gavin to help when he finished with Nick. But I did not want the others thinking I used homework as an excuse to hit on Gavin.

  A part of me hoped he might someday want to hit on me. Like, after I got to know him better, and had more therapy sessions with Dr. Liz to work on my freak outs. But he was technically the theory tutor, and conveniently in my living room.

  Fuck it.

  I poked my head around the corner of the hallway.

  “Hey, Gavin?”

  Both guys stopped playing.

  “What’s up?” Gavin reclined in the chair, removing his hands from the keyboard.

  “Any chance you have a little time to help me with some theory homework? If you’re not too busy?” Shit, too transparent? Well, theory homework truly loomed over my head. I was almost one hundred percent certain Haven would give us a pop quiz. One couldn’t study too much for transcription quizzes. At least I couldn’t.

  “Sure, I’ll come by when we’re done?”

  “Awesome, thanks. I’d appreciate it.”

  He resumed jamming with Nick, and I retreated to my room. My assertiveness provided a small source of pride. Another point to share with Dr. Liz next week.

  I pulled out the piece I started for composition and included a part for the standing bass. My secret crush. Thrilled didn’t begin to describe my emotions ever since Dr. Mickelson assigned bass lines to our main melody. Deep in musical meditation, I startled when a knock on the door jolted me back to the reality of my bedroom.

  “Hey.” Gavin poked his head through the crack of the door.

  “Hey. You guys done already?” I sat up, and gathered the staff sheets scattered on my comforter, stoked I pounded out a few more measures of my composition piece.

  “Yeah, we hashed out some of the main verse and chorus tonight. Is now a good time to help with theory?” He remained outside of my room, awaiting my response.

  I stuffed the piece into my composition folder and opened my theory notebook. “Now would be awesome.” I noticed the time on the clock: 7:53 pm. Not so late I’d feel bad about holding him hostage in tutor mode.

  We sat on the floor, and I spread out the sheets. Gavin already realized, from prior tutoring sessions, hearing the distance between the notes in chords evaded me.

  “Actually, let’s grab my keyboard because I suck at hearing and identifying chords, chord progressions, and practicing transcription,” I said.

  Gavin went back into the living room to retrieve the instrument.

  He entered my room again and began his pep talk. “Think of this as an overlap with sight-singing. A lot of it is practice, drilling the notes to memory.” Gavin assessed me for a second, before continuing. “We know you have relative pitch.”

  “Unfortunately. Let me guess, you have perfect pitch?”

  “I got lucky. But I still have lots of pointers. And don’t knock relative pitch. It’s helpful and much better than no pitch.” Naturally both Gavin and Nick would have perfect pitch. Again, where was I when they passed out various music genes? At least musical creativity blessed me. I attribute my scholarship to it.

  “Thanks. Rather, thanks for also staying. I recognize it isn’t office hours for you, but I appreciate it.”

  “Happy to do it.”

  No joke, we sat there for almost an hour and a half. Gavin played chords repeatedly, while I struggled to write down all the correct notes. The ear training increased in difficulty when he inserted diminished seventh chords versus minor chords. Though I loved how they sounded, diminished seventh chords were my weakness.

  Time and again, I missed the notes by half a key. When he moved to playing both treble and bass clef music for transcription, I collapsed to the ground, removed my pillow I used to support my emotional stomach, and replaced it over my head to smother the chaos in my brain.

  Tonight’s impromptu tutoring session proved even harder than yesterday’s scheduled one.

  Gavin laid down beside me and tried to remove the pillow.

  “Louie?”

  “I can’t do it. I suck. I don’t know why but I can’t hear all the notes. For frick’s sake, I didn’t even get the correct key and time signature. I could have sworn you were in G major, 6/8 time. But noooo. E major and 3/4 time. I’m going to fail, and then I’m going to be forced to drop out. I’ll end up on the streets, living under a bench with thirteen cats and a rash.”

  “I think we should probably take a break. You’re not going to fail and you’re not going to get kicked out. And I certainly hope you don’t get a rash.” He paused. “What kind of rash are we talking about?”

  “Flesh eating nasty puss inducing rash.” My voice muffled under the pillow.

  “Sounds yummy.”

  “For real, I can’t hear the notes.” After a while, all the notes sounded the same.

  “You do hear them, just not always in the right key. Remember what we talked about yesterday?”

  “Not boosting my confidence.” I rolled my back toward him, pillow still hiding my head.

  “Louie?” Gavin lifted the edge of my pillow.

  “What?”

  “Take the pillow away.” He peeled more of the comforter off my face until I moved it down past my eyes and glared.

  “All the way.”

  “Fine.” I pouted and chucked the pillow across the room.

  Gavin leaned on his elbow, propping his head up. “So, let’s take a break where we don’t talk about anything music related, deal?”

  “Fine.” I made my way into a seated position, legs crossed over one another. “Let’s talk more about you.”

  “I think we talked about me plenty during dinner,” he answered.

  “I disagree.” Gavin and I seemed to engage in many a stare-down in the short time we’d known each other. I lost the last one we had, and this one followed the same trajectory. I shouldn’t have been surprised, seeing as how I never beat my brother during childhood.

  I eventually broke. “Why don’t we do twenty questions? We each get ten?”

  “All right. Any passes?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Fine, one pass, scaredy-cat.”

  His lips curled up at the ends, a look I adored, because it lit up his face, and gave me warm fuzzies.

  “Okay, I’ll start. Why were you wanting to escape your house during high school?”

  “You caught that?” Gavin eased onto his back and eyed the ceiling.

  “I did.”

  “It was complicated.” His hands folded on his chest.

  I grunted. “Terrible response, use a pass, my friend.”

  “No pass, I speak the truth, and it was complicated. My turn.” He mimicked my sitting position. “What happened to make you skittish of men?”

  “I had a bad experience.”

  He nodded. “Fair enough. Your turn.”

  “Why was it complicated?” Not letting let him evade that question.

  “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

  I shook my head.

  He shrugged. “Teenage angst, miscommunication, chaos, loss.”

  “Okay, cryptic boy.”

  “Hey, you can ask for more clarification with your next question. You do have eight left. What was your bad experience?” He leaned closer, and I could smell the remnants of Thai food and beer mixed with his musky scent.

  I slumped my shoulders. I’d have to tell him eventually, right? Dr. Li
z would squeal with delight if she heard I opened-up to a guy about my past. I didn’t want to scare him away.

  A couple hours ago his description of me elevated from odd duck to interesting. I feared wrecking this positive trend.

  “You truly want to know?”

  “I do. Details aren’t necessary, but if we’re getting to know each other better, understanding how major events have shaped your life is important in my book. It’s clear to me there’s something traumatic based on how you respond to me. I have my shallow moments, trust me. But this is an area I’ve learned not to skim past.”

  I picked at the hem of my shorts, aiding the fraying. One of my bad habits to kick, if not for the welfare of my bank account. I paused for a moment, weighing his explanation against my fear he’d run away from me at Mach speed.

  “Some of the neighborhood boys picked on me. Almost to the point of stalking and harassment. Okay, maybe it was stalking and harassment.” My breath held, and I considered Gavin. His eyes were shut, and fists clenched by his side. His chest expanded as he breathed deep, before his hands relaxed.

  No way I’d add in my crazy abandonment issues and eating disorder.

  Petrified of his response, I blurted out my next question. “Why do you say you’re shallow?”

  He paused and shot me a look I couldn’t quite identify. Anger? Pain? Disgust? Exasperation?

  Instead of following up on my response, he opted to answer my next question. “I wasn’t known to have deep meaningful relationships, if you know what I mean.”

  “So, you’re a player.”

  “That’ll cost you another question. My turn. How often did it happen?”

  My face fought the frown, as the proverbial nail hit my coffin. “It started at five and ended in high school?” I didn’t bother telling him it was my senior year when the bullying shifted from physical to stalking and taunting, but it hurt the same. Making me run as fast as I could away from Lenox, MA. Also, why I never wanted to go back. Being a different race than everyone else did wonders for my social networking. Not.

  “Fucking A, Louie.” Gavin released a very audible exhalation. And there it was, the look I dreaded, and why I shouldn’t have said anything in the first place. Pity. I didn’t want to be pigeon-holed. Because I survived.

  I plastered on my best fake smile. “So last question?” Because I couldn’t handle any more of this game. I wanted to learn more about Gavin, not paint myself as some vulnerable loser girl without protection. I wasn’t her anymore. I worked too hard to gain my own sense of self, strength, and perseverance.

  Despite Gavin not having a chance to explain his complication at home, I couldn’t take anymore. Sitting up as straight as I could, I posed my final inquiry. “According to the world of Gavin, what does it mean to,” using air quotes, “not have deep meaningful relationships.”

  “I’m pretty certain I still get one more question after yours.” Gavin relaxed the muscles in his jaw.

  “Answer the question, lover boy.”

  He tilted his head a moment. “Pretty much like it sounds. A lot of hook-ups and one-night stands.”

  “A lot as in ten or fifty?”

  Gavin tsked at me. “Your questions are up, unless you want to go another round.”

  My eyes narrowed. “You suck.”

  “Yes, but at least I have the final question. How many guys have you dated?” he asked.

  “Pass.” I averted my gaze. I didn’t want him to see I clearly had never dated a guy.

  “Who’s the scaredy-cat now?”

  I rebounded. “How many one-night stands?

  “We’re doing one more round?” Gavin stretched his legs out to the side and leaned on his hands propped behind his back. “Ballpark? Forty? But I always used protection and got tested after each one. I was a lucky bastard, but I’m clean.”

  “Shit, you’re like a male gigolo. You’re what, twenty-two, twenty-three?”

  Gavin nodded. “Twenty-three.”

  Fuuuuuck. Way out of my league. “Does your number include any relationships you may have had?”

  Gavin goaded me. “Another round?”

  “Gavin.”

  “I dated a couple, lasted, I don’t know, four or five months each.” Another shrug, no big deal to him. Probably wasn’t. But for someone like me who had zero experience, my hands would clam up, and I’d perspire in unattractive places. Okay, it was my pits, but still.

  I attempted the math, arbitrarily making him eighteen when he lost his virginity. If I were being conservative, he’d had on average, eight women a year. I’m not one to judge, hell, Dave Spence could give him a run for his money. But holy crap, his experience made him well-versed in women.

  Maybe I didn’t want to be with him after all. I’d be delusional to entertain the possibility I could be his special someone to make him commit. No way in hell I did one-night stands. Though a lizard with half a brain could have figured it out.

  And did I want a boyfriend at this point? I still had ways to go to heal. What was his angle?

  Gavin nudged my knee to grab my attention. “A lot happened and it’s not an excuse but an explanation. If it’s any consolation, I haven’t been with anyone in almost a year,” he whispered.

  “Wow. Um.” I inspected pretty much every object, nook, and cranny except Gavin. Nerves flushed my skin, while his hand remained on my leg. I squirmed into another seated position until he withdrew it. But his last comment gave me pause. I wonder what had changed for him.

  “Not quite as many for you?” he asked.

  I huffed. “An understatement.” Discomfort consumed me. Not because I thought he might be inappropriate, but because I still liked the idea of him. Insecurity over my non-existent sexual prowess invaded my rumination. What would he think if he knew my first and only kiss was in seventh grade? I shuddered in mortification. Sure, I had a good reason. Still didn’t take away the embarrassment.

  “You want to talk about it?”

  “How about we practice some more transcription? I know Haven will have some of these on the quiz tomorrow.” I pointed with my eraser at my notebook.

  Gavin forced a close-lipped smile, rubbed the back of his neck, and acquiesced. “It’s probably been ten minutes. Theory it is.”

  Chapter 10

  One thing’s for certain, Gavin rocked normalcy. He resumed tutor mode, and we spent another forty-five minutes with me transcribing what I heard him play on the keyboard. I wasn’t solid I would ace the quiz, but at least I wouldn’t fail.

  Haven didn’t disappoint. First thing in the morning, we opened class with a quiz.

  Composition studio followed Theory. While I yearned to see Gavin again, I remained unsure how he might act around me. Or more realistically, how I was going to act around him. I left less than affectionate last night.

  To my credit, I think I was still in shock with his numerous, ahem, experiences, though relieved to learn he had been single for a year. And as Matt said, Gavin’s number of partners? Normal for a good-looking guy. Get over it, Louie.

  Yet, I hoped if he were my first, like ten years from now, it could be different. Though I’d never done anything with another person, I still had ideas in my head about what I would like to try someday, thanks to my romance novels.

  Wouldn’t communication and some self-awareness carry more weight than the number of partners? I boosted my morale around my lack of experience, because the alternative included admitting how pathetic the only action I got was self-administered, again, thanks to the aforementioned novels.

  Still, working on my fear of intimacy shot front and center, because the idea of stripping down in front of a guy caused me to make like a groundhog until the threat disappeared. Not exactly fodder for an epic romance.

  When I entered the class, Gavin
sat next to Mickelson, and managed a slight wave.

  “Welcome, Louie. I see you have five minutes left to spare. I trust you will use the extra time to imagine your next symphony,” Mickelson admonished.

  “Absolutely. Who needs five? I could write a full symphony in four minutes.”

  “Excellent. Gavin, how have your mind melds been going with Louie? She’s a natural, this one. Not very good at the theory, but her ability to collect, assemble, and shape sound is nothing short of extraordinary.” Mickelson’s eyes warmed at me, and I beamed.

  Accolades were few and far between from this man. I averaged about two a semester, thus already halfway through my allotment, or maybe I was improving?

  “They’re going well. Lou’s got a lot of great ideas we’ve been sharing.”

  Mickelson scoffed. “Please, how many times do I have to tell you to call me John? Once you graduate, you become a peer in my book. Let me guess, Louie is also attending your tutoring sessions?” No surprise Mickelson would assume I needed tutoring. The entire faculty did.

  “She’s doing well.” An accolade attached to Gavin’s smile. I could get used to the combination.

  “Excellent. I trust you’ll continue to keep an eye on her.” Mickelson moved over to another desk to greet an incoming freshman.

  “How’d you do on your theory quiz?” Gavin brushed his shoulder gently against mine and heat filled my cheeks.

  “I think I passed. Thanks for your help. I appreciate it.” I grabbed my notebook after digging for my pencil case.

  “No problem. It’s nice to know it paid off.” Another nudge on my shoulder caused me to momentarily stop my pencil search.

  “Well, thanks again.” I found a pencil at the bottom of the main compartment.

  “Sure thing.” Muscles in Gavin’s jaw tensed for a moment and then released. “So about last night.”

  “That’s a throw-back movie from the Eighties, right?” I might have been a bit of an eighties movie junkie in high school.