“Oh. No, I don’t have kids.” Then he looked around the room at the under-eighteen crowd that dominated the class, and his eyebrows shot up. “Uh, is this a kids’ class?”
Wait, was he here toattend?Really…“Not technically, no.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, it’s open to all ages, but it’s primarily filled with kids or teens who’ve been sent by their parents. We don’t get too many adults.”If ever.
“Oh.” He ran a hand through his damp hair and looked ready to bolt.
“Are you here for the class?”
“I was. I mean, I am.”
“Is this like a bucket list thing for you?”
“Uh…yeah. Something like that.”
“Come on in, and I’ll get you set up.” I walked over to the piano at the front of the room and grabbed one of the sheets from the top. When I handed it to him, he looked down at the paper in confusion. “That’s the lesson for today.”
“This is the beginner’s stuff?”
“It is.” My lips twisted as I fought back a grin, because bless his heart, he was out of place. But I’d welcome anyone who wanted to learn an instrument, even if they were mid-thirties-ish and looked like they could bench-press me if I looked at them wrong.
“So, should I, uh…take a seat?” he asked.
“Yep, anywhere you like. We’ll start in a few minutes.”
“Okay, thanks.”
He chose one of the pianos near the front, since a handful of teens had taken up residence at the ones in the back, and as he set the sheet music in front of him and wiped his hands on his jeans, I almost laughed. I had a feeling the kids were going to kick his ass at playing “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”
Once everyone was inside, I went to the front of the room and whistled to get everyone’s attention.
“All right, welcome, folks, to Piano for Beginners. My name is Mr. Valentine, and I’ll be filling in until Mrs. Bishop gets back.”
A couple of girls in the back giggled, and I ignored them. It was my name or age that seemed to get to them every time.
“Today we’re going to be focusing on the song listed on the sheet I gave you as you came in, but first, I’d like to go over proper hand posture.”
As I launched into the lesson, I went around the room to make sure everyone was positioned correctly and had their starting points. When I got to Ollie, I took his wrist and moved his hand over three keys.
“That’s middle C,” I said. “It’s your center. You get lost and you come back here.”
He looked up at me with eyes so light green they were almost clear. Damn. Were they always like that?
Ollie nodded. “My center. Got it.”
Something in his gaze sent my stomach dropping, and I let go of his wrist like he was on fire.
That unsettled feeling remained as I continued on to the next student. What the hell was that? The guy had seemed friendly enough, and I didn’t get any red flags popping up. I tried to put my reaction behind me as I continued on with the lesson. “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” was the song they’d be learning to play today, and it was one of the easier ones to begin with. Or so I’d thought.
I didn’t go near him again, keeping my distance, because my instincts told me there was something more to that guy than what he let on. Nothing dangerous…I didn’t think. But I couldn’t put my finger on it. Every so often I’d swear I felt the heat of his gaze, only to turn around and see him studiously watching his fingers as he hit the wrong key. And each time I looked over to see Ollie helplessly trying and failing to follow along, I had to fight back a grin. The poor guy, he didn’t have a musical bone in his body, and I doubted he’d ever sat behind a piano before in his life. But he was trying, and in this class, that was all that mattered. It was kind of entertaining to watch, though.
The hour passed quickly, most everyone nailing the piece, and I went around the room, gathering up their music sheets.
“All right, that’s all for today. Make sure to practice over the week, because we’ll pick back up with it next week before moving on.”
The kids couldn’t get out of there fast enough, ready to get on with their summer outside of the classroom, and I couldn’t blame them. I’d only given up my weekend as a favor to Mrs. Bishop, whose mom had been my own instructor when I was younger.