Choose Me

by Valentina F.

  Cat stares at me, her eyes wide open, her chin tilted down, her mouth half-open. She's as sexy as hell and looks like she wants to get laid.

  I get to my feet without further protest and lift the lid of the piano, remove the velvet dust cover that protects the keyboard, and run my trembling fingers over the keys. "What do you want to hear, Mom?" I ask, but I already know the answer, it's always the same.

  "The Yuyuri thing..."

  It's Yiruma, but I don't bother correcting her anymore. "“River Flows in You”, it is."

  I crack my knuckles, one by one, take a deep breath, and force myself not to look at her. But I can hear her, behind me, leaning against the door frame. I don't need to look at her to know she has her arms folded across her chest, her legs crossed at the ankle.

  I slide my fingers over the piano and the adrenaline kicks in. The feel of the keys under my fingers, as the notes invade my ears, is liberating. A few seconds later and I'm lost in the music, one note at a time, in a sweet, energetic melody that expands in my veins, filling my stomach, relaxing me so much that I forget who I am, where I am, and life seems simple, with no problems.

  The rhythm slows and I open my eyes and, as usual, I never even realized I'd closed them. I pretend to glance down at the score, though I could play it in the dark. From the corner of my eye, I see my mother leave the room. She always does that, she likes to listen to me while she finishes up in the kitchen. She got used to hearing me play like that when I was kid, when, for me, playing the piano was more of a chore than a pleasure.

  The melody intensifies, my fingers move on their own, and my heart pounds in my chest. I savor the notes and close my eyes without even realizing that I'm the one who's playing. I press the keys energetically and, for the last notes, slow down until I've almost stopped. Soft, barely touched, the notes invade my brain.

  The first person I want to see when these three minutes of ecstasy are over is Caterina. She's standing just as I'd imagined, although I'm not prepared for the look on her face, which takes my breath away. Her eyes are bright, her breath is short, and she's picking the skin from around her nails. She smiles at me like a child, then quickly passes a hand under her eyes to wipe away her tears. I have to look away because instinct tells me to go to her and kiss her till we're both blue in the face.

  "You make me cry every time," Betty whispers behind me, wiping away a tear as she bends to kiss me tenderly on the head.

  "What do you want to hear now?" The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. I want to see the astonished expression on Cat's face again, even if it means playing all night.

  "Beethoven, “For Elise”." I hear her voice and look up. Her eyes aren't lucid anymore. On the contrary, they’re gleaming, challenging me.

  Without taking my eyes off her, I begin to play. It was my old piano teacher’s favorite piece. I practiced it for years, until I was exhausted, until it was perfect.

  It's hard to watch her, she's too far away, so I focus on the piano again, but, out of the corner of my eye, I see her move.

  She comes in a little closer, until she's standing next to Mark. The room falls silent and all you can hear are the notes of my piano. I want to play this piece better than usual because she requested it, with her frightened little voice, catching me completely off guard.

  Betty leaves the room halfway through, followed by Stefan, and the only eyes I can feel on me are Cat's. I don't even know if Jessica and Mark are still in the room, and I don't really care.

  "Wow! That was...just...I have goose bumps." She sounds emotional and her voice fills my heart as soon as the song finishes, filling the void left by the music.

  "Do you play?" I ask, turning to look at her.

  "No." She smiles. "I'm rubbish. It was my mother's favorite piece, though. She played it all the time." Her eyes fill with tears, more from emotion than sadness, but she holds them back. She looks so beautiful and vulnerable.

  "I'll play it for you as often as you like," I whisper, although I don't know why, since we're alone.

  She sits down next to me on the wide stool. "Would you play something else?"

  "Sure."

  I begin playing at random, moving seamlessly from one piece to another. From Beethoven to Bach, before improvising a melody by Chopin. I feel her breath catch as I slide into “My Heart Will Go On” from the film, 'Titanic'. I'm playing dirty with this one, I know. There’s no girl on earth who can remain indifferent when she hears it. I used to play it sometimes for my mother, she also likes to pretend she's hard but I know, deep down, she's romantic.

  It's the first time I've ever played like this, with a girl sitting next to me, and it feels strangely relaxing. Her eyes watch me constantly, almost making me lose concentration. For a second she glances down at the keys but her eyes return quickly to my face. My eyes are wide open and I watch her out of the corner of my eye as we lose ourselves in the limbo of the rich tones of the music.

  When I finish playing, I rest my hands on my knees. I don't even have the courage to look at her right now, I feel so in awe. I take a deep breath and when I can't bear the weight of her stare any longer, I turn. She looks at me with an excited smile, her eyes shining.

  "That was amazing."

  "Thanks." Embarrassed, I run a hand through my hair.

  "Why do you play the guitar if you're such a talented pianist?"

  "Does that mean my guitar playing is shit?" I tease.

  "No!" she exclaims, alarmed. "Not at all. But you should play in public. Wow, people should pay to hear you."

  I smile to myself. "Nope, never. For years, I only played for my family and, as of today...for you."

  "Why?"

  "Because I like you?" I reply, dodging the question. I know she's asking why I never play in public, but it's not easy to explain.

  When my mother realized I was talented, she and my piano teacher started signing me up for competitions. They wanted me to go to the conservatory and, by that time, I was practicing at least five hours a day and I couldn't take the pressure anymore. Playing the piano was supposed to be fun, then all of a sudden it became a full-time job, and when you're fourteen you have so much going on in your head, you have no idea what you want to do with your life. Plus, Jessica had been attacked just the year before and I felt completely destabilized.

  "I know what you mean!"

  I shrug. "Music for me is a way of blowing off steam. Playing in public as a professional musician would take the fun out of it. When I realized I didn't love it like I used to, I stopped. Now I play at parties, family get-togethers to please my mom, and when I'm alone."

  She smiles sweetly and chews her lip.

  "What's wrong?" I ask.

  "I want to kiss you," she replies, mischievously.

  My heart stops. I throw my head back and laugh in embarrassment. Caterina, so small and vulnerable, who knew? If I'd known that thirty minutes on the piano was all it took to bring her out of her shell and melt her icy exterior I would have played it months ago.

  And miss out on three months of embarrassed glances, stilted conversations, and that adrenaline buzz whenever we were together, getting to know each other? No, all things considered, it was all worth it. The past three months were too intense to even think about giving them up.

  I take her face in my hands and pull her toward me. Her lips are soft and smell of mint.

  Just as we get to the best part, my mother's voice interrupts us. "Maaark! Your brother's kissing your girlfriend." And Blondie jumps back with a start.

  Joking, Mark yells, "Son of a..." from the other room, but he never finishes.

  "Hey, language!" My mother interrupts and Mark, giggling like a schoolgirl, turns to us and winks.

  Blondie's face is purple. She's blushing so much, I think she's going to cry.

  "Thanks, Mom!" I shout, as she smugly leaves the room, heading for the family room.

  Cat covers her face with her hands, laughing hysterically. Well, I hope she's laughing, I'm not s
ure.

  I hold her tight and pull her hands away from her eyes.

  "I think I'm going to faint," she whispers, her face even redder.

  "Why? You've just made my mom the happiest woman in the world!" And I kiss her lightly on the temple.

  28

  I can't stop touching her. Now that she lets me touch her without stiffening whenever I'm near, I want to touch her all the time.

  We drive back to Orlando on Saturday afternoon and, without saying anything to the others, we lock ourselves in her room. I don't even give her time to put down her bag before I throw her down on the bed and pin her to the mattress, my body on top of hers. After my mother's fun outburst on Thanksgiving, she avoided me like the plague and those few minutes when I was able to get her alone were never enough.

  I want her now, on the bed, her arms and legs wrapped around me, and I'm not letting her out of here until we've made up for those three months of abstinence.

  I peel off her shirt and she laughs, her hands over her bra, and she looks so beautiful I have to stop. I straddle her and take off my shirt, then kiss her chin, her cheek, her neck, working my way down to her breasts. I'm so aroused, I wouldn't be able to stop even if she came at me with a baseball bat.

  Slowly I take her bra off, one strap at a time, and I see the hesitation in her eyes. How far will she let me go before she changes her mind? I don't want to think about it because I don't want her to stop me.

  My hands are shaking as I unbutton her shorts and pull down the zipper, but I don't have the courage to look her in the eye. I pull her shorts down, pulling her panties down with them. I'm torn between the need to hurry up and make love to her and the overwhelming feeling that I should hold back and let her decide.

  I can't help but look down between her legs. Damn! She's so smooth. A drop of sweat rolls down my back. I roll to one side and take all my clothes off then lie back on top of her, balancing my weight on my forearms to avoid crushing her. She's not smiling anymore, her eyes are wide as she stares up at me. I spread her legs slightly and ease myself between them. I want to feel her skin against mine, I want her to know how much I want her.

  "Turn the music on," she whispers breathlessly.

  I reach out to the nightstand and press play on the docking station. I'm expecting Italian music to come bursting out but “Breath” by Breaking Benjamin fills the room. I turn the volume up and kneel on the bed to close the curtains and darken the room. Not too much, however. I want to see her, I don't want to miss even the slightest expression on her face.

  I lie on top of her again and kiss her calmly, slowly stroking her face and moving up and down. The agony is divine. I’m going to explore every part of her, kiss her greedily between the legs, leave her gasping like that time in Tampa, and I’m going to do it all night.

  She squeezes her slim fingers around my neck then runs them through my hair. When she pulls me in close I know she's going to let me go all the way. "Ben," she murmurs, almost panting.

  "Make love with me," I whisper in her ear, and feel her stiffen against my body. Before she can reply, I’m kissing her again.

  When I can't take rubbing myself up and down her body anymore, I pull away and reach for my wallet in the back pocket of my jeans, tossed in a pile on the rug. I take out a couple of condoms and put them on the nightstand, giving her another five seconds to change her mind.

  Make that three seconds.

  I open the foil packaging and pull one out, then kneel in front of her, smiling, my heart racing in excitement. I'm about to put it on when her cell phone rings, the volume of the ring tone drowning out the music.

  Her eyes open wide and she wriggles out from under me, grabbing her phone, trying to turn on the lamp, but as she does, she knocks over the framed photo of her family: mom, dad, and seven- year-old Blondie.

  "Shit!" she exclaims breathlessly. "It's my dad!" She looks down at her phone, still ringing in her hands, and I want to laugh. I'm kneeling on her bed, my erection in one hand, a fresh condom in the other.

  "Call him later." It sounds like an order, but that's not my intention.

  Her phone stops ringing and Cat looks down at the display, panicking. "Four missed calls and a text." She sits up, trying to cover herself with the bed sheet. "Shit! Shit! Shit!"

  I don't see why she's so worked up. I want to point out I'm so aroused I'm not going to last longer than ten minutes anyway, but that would be an exaggeration. "Blondie, what's wrong?"

  She stares at me, panic-stricken, her hands shaking. "I don't know. He just says it's urgent. He never calls me at this time, it's almost midnight in Rome."

  She gets off the bed and quickly puts her clothes on.

  Shit!

  She clears her throat and raises the phone to her ear. "Papà..."

  That's all I understand. The rest is in Italian and I don't catch a word. I close my eyes and run a hand over my forehead. From the look on her face, it's bad news and I feel like an idiot, lying here naked on her bed with an all too obvious erection that seems to be making fun of me.

  "Leonardo..." Just hearing his name makes me stiffen. A tear rolls down her cheek and she can't stop shaking. "...ciao, papà."

  She hangs up and collapses on the floor.

  "Cat! What the hell's wrong?" Worried sick, I put the condom on the nightstand, get off the bed and rush over to her, trying to pull her hands from her eyes.

  "Leonardo..." Another tear runs down her cheek and I can't move. "He's coming to Orlando."

  She’s panicking, gasping for air.

  Her boyfriend...

  …on his way to Orlando...

  I guess I should be happy nothing serious has happened. From the look on her face, I thought he must be dead. I should be happy, but there’s poison boiling in my veins at the thought of having to see him in...what?

  "When?"

  "Now...he's leaving from Rome. He'll be here tomorrow morning."

  "Breathe." I hold her tight, trying to calm her. But I need to calm myself down first. My heart is in my throat and my legs feel like jelly. I put my lips on hers and she lets me, but when she opens her eyes and sees me crouched naked beside her on the rug, she leaps back as if she's had an electric shock. Her expression sends me spinning out of control, because I know she's about to tell me something I never wanted to hear.

  "You have to go. Now!"

  29

  My heart literally stops when I hear Queen's “Don’t Stop Me Now” blaring from my iPhone: it's the ringtone for my dad’s mobile.

  My brain stops working, too. What time is it in Italy? We already spoke at lunchtime, why the hell is he calling back? Rivers of terror flood my body. Unexpected calls always bring bad news, there's no way he's calling to ask what I'm doing.

  Not what I'm doing...more like who was about to do me!

  Ben stares at me, bewildered. My eyes must be on stalks. I stare down at the screen but can't find the courage to answer. It keeps ringing and ringing, and with each ring the volume gets louder, drilling into my brain.

  "Call him later." Ben's tone startles me. After what? When I've slept with him? God, he's here, naked on my bed, clutching a condom. My level of anxiety goes up a notch.

  The ringing suddenly stops and I start breathing again, but only for a brief instant. I press the button to light up the screen and see four missed calls and a text. Something must have happened: My grandmother? My grandfather? Leonardo? The air gets stuck in my throat. "Four missed calls and a text." I crouch down on the bed, suddenly aware of my nakedness. "Shit! Shit! Shit!"

  Ben sits on the bed, finally removing his erection from my face. "Blondie, what's wrong?" His calm is therapeutic and I finally let out a long, deep sigh.

  "I don't know. He just says it's urgent, but he never calls me at this time, it's almost midnight in Rome,” I babble, trying to find the courage to call him back.

  Cat! Calm the fuck down!

  I get off the bed and gather up most of my clothes. My underwear are missing so I ju
st pull on my shorts. I don't even waste time putting my bra on, I fling a t-shirt over my head. I press call, exhaling all the air from my lungs while waiting to be connected.

  "Cate!"

  "Papà, what's happened?" My voice sounds shrill.

  "What happened to you? I've been calling for an hour." His voice is calm, there’s no sign of disaster in his tone.

  "I was in the car, with my phone on silent. What's wrong?"

  "Nothing, tesoro, I didn't want to scare you."

  Scare me? You call me four times when it's midnight your time and you didn't want to scare me?

  "Has someone died?" I ask, all in one breath. My father laughs and I don't know whether to feel relieved or tell him to go to hell. "Papà!"

  "It's Leonardo..." My heart stops. "His mother called me an hour ago. He's bought a ticket to Orlando and he's at the airport...he's flying out to see you...tonight."

  I put a hand to my forehead. My head feels like it’s going to explode. "What? Leonardo? Here? Why?"

  "Cate, he's going through a bad time. I know he told you about his parents, he just needs a change of scenery. He wanted to surprise you. When he asked for your address I thought he wanted to send you something, I didn't think he was going to fly over. I thought I'd better let you know."

  "What time does he get here?" I ask breathlessly.

  "His flight's due in at 7:30, tomorrow morning."

  My heart tightens. If my father hadn't warned me, Leonardo would have found me in bed with Ben, like in some cheap comedy. My stomach knots so much I want to retch. "Thanks for letting me know. Ciao, papà." I end the call before he can reply and collapse on the rug.

  "Cat, what the hell's going on?" Ben rushes over, his eyes wide, a worried look on his face.

  Ben.

  Benjamin Carter.

  His green eyes staring into mine, his open, honest face and that wonderfully tousled hair falling over his forehead. Another pang pierces my stomach. The tears start to fall and I'm unable to stop them. All I can say is, "Leonardo." His name, my boyfriend's name, the guy I cheated on and humiliated. He's going through hell and looking to me for comfort and where am I? Naked with another guy, forgetting about the world outside, forgetting about him. Ben stares at me, shaking his head in silence. He still doesn't understand. Finally I speak. "He's coming...to Orlando," I say, those four fateful words forcing their way out of my mouth.