I reach into my bag and take it out, watching his perfect, long pianist’s fingers wrap around it.
Sighing, he turns it over in his hands. “I must say, I’m a bit disappointed not to bring this one home myself.” He meets my gaze again, head tilting slightly. “But it’s almost worth it, knowing it goes to someone who plays as beautifully as you.”
I bite my lower lip, my breathing coming fast. I can’t believe he’s finally seeing me. When I walked off the stage, I thought he hated me, but maybe winning was what I needed to make him see me, after all.
He reaches toward my face, and the world stops when he brushes his fingertips across my skin and tucks my hair behind my ear. “Do you want to come back to my place?” He tilts his head toward the idling Mercedes behind him. “I’d love to hear you play the nocturne again and talk about your interpretation.”
I nod, unable to find the words. Suddenly, all my dreams seem to be coming true.
He gives me the trophy, takes my other hand, and leads me to the car. Memories from the first time I met him flicker through my mind as I watch our connected hands. It feels right. Like something I, deep down, always knew would happen again.
He opens the back door for me, and there’s that bright smile again as he scoots in beside me.
His dad doesn’t say anything, just casts a quick, impassive look at us in the rearview mirror, then takes off.
***
I can’t help gawking as Killian leads me through a soaring entryway with a black-and-white tile floor and an iron staircasethat curves in elegant contours, modern art on the walls and spotlights embedded into the ceiling.
“My room is up here,” he says, leading the way up the stairs. “Actually, I have the whole floor to myself since Dad has everything he needs downstairs.”
He shows me his bedroom, the spacious bathroom, a workout room, and a gaming room. Each room is at least twice the size of mine and equipped with everything a teenage boy could dream of.
“Do you even have time to use all of that?” I ask when we leave the gaming room.
“Not really. Only when I have friends over.” He takes me by the hand and leads me over the landing to the last room. “This is where I spend most of my time.”
He opens the door, and I slap a hand over my mouth at the sight that meets me. It’s an open room with white paneled walls, polished pale wooden floors, and tall windows that offer a breathtaking view overlooking the city. But it’s not the view of the city shimmering at dusk, the tall bookcases full of sheet music, or the magnificent paintings of Liszt and Beethoven that have me gasping. It’s the grand piano in the middle of the room.
I take two steps forward, then pause. “Can I touch it?”
“Please.” He gestures to the piano bench in a chivalrous manner that makes him seem more like a grown man than a sixteen-year-old boy.
I carefully sink onto the bench, stroking the soft surface. Even the fabric seems more expensive and delicate than my bench at home. Roaming my gaze over the instrument, I take it all in. The glossy surface, the raised lid, and the golden letters above the black-and-white keys.Steinway & Sons.
I gently trace a finger over the letters. “I can’t believe you have a Steinway in your home.”
“We have two. Dad has one downstairs too.”
“Really?” I caress the polished surface and touch a few keys without pressing.
“It’s as good as the one we played at the concert hall. You should try it. Play the Rachmaninoff piece again.”
I barely notice him moving through the room and settling onto the couch by the windows. All I see is the instrument of my dreams, and it’s every bit as magnificent as I imagined when I press my fingers to the keys and begin to play. It’s like soaring. The instrument responds effortlessly to every nuance I shape, letting me breathe new life into the music in a way I never can at home. Even the room seems to embrace the sound more openly, its vastness allowing it to travel and expand the way it’s meant to.
I let it all sweep me away into another world. Five magical minutes.
When I lift my hands from the keys, I’m speechless. I vaguely notice Killian getting up while I remain in place, staring at the monochromatic pattern, breathing hard from the outlet of emotion. It’s only when he’s right behind me that I truly notice him. Notes of eucalyptus drift through the air. His scent. The one that always has butterflies flapping in my belly.
I gasp when he brushes my hair behind my shoulders. “You look beautiful when you play. All lost in the music.”
His fingers move to my neck, trailing down my sensitive skin. I can’t even think. My focus narrows to him and his touch, and I forget everything as tiny shudders erupt down my arms, drawing up goosebumps.
“You have a beautiful neck. Would you mind if I decorate it a little?”
I make a hesitant shake of my head, having no idea what he means, but knowing that whatever it is, I want it.
“Stay here,” he says softly, trailing his hands over my shoulders as he steps back.