In Harmony

by Helena Newbury

  “Yes, honest. Of course honest!”

  “No.”

  My jaw dropped open. “No?!”

  “Not unless you get that stick out of your arse.” I didn’t need to see him. I could hear the grin in his voice. Relief slammed through me.

  “I don’t have a—Well, you need to sharpen up a little. Since we’re being honest.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  I hesitated. “Do I really come across like that? Uptight?”

  “I meant your playing.”

  “I know. But do I?”

  The silence this time was heavy with possibilities.

  “Maybe a little bit.” The sound of rustling cloth—he was moving. “But nothing that couldn’t be fixed.”

  I swallowed. Was he moving towards me? “Fixed how?”

  “I was thinking….” His voice was very close now—right behind me. I tensed, but I didn’t turn around. “I was thinking about maybe….”

  Something dropped onto my cheek and scurried down my neck and under my top. I screamed at the top of my lungs and started pawing at my clothes, but it was moving, scuttling across my stomach, its legs hooking into my belly button—

  I ripped my top over my head and threw it to the ground, backing up against Connor as I slapped at myself. My hand brushed against the crawling thing and swept it off into the darkness—

  The door swung wide. “Ta-DAA!” said Jasmine as light flooded the room….

  …to reveal me standing in jeans and bra, my back nestled up against Connor’s chest. Jasmine’s eyes bugged.

  My mouth opened and closed a few times, but nothing came out.

  ***

  “There was a spider,” I told Connor. We were in the practice room, dusting off the acoustic guitars.

  “Okay.” He couldn’t stop smiling.

  “There was! What did you think was going on? I wouldn’t just rip my clothes off and—” And throw myself into your arms. Except part of me would, but he wasn’t to know that.

  “Okay.”

  “Now Jasmine thinks there’s something going on.”

  “But you’re going to tell her there isn’t?” Another one of those ambiguous questions he was so fond of.

  “Of course!” And then I watched his reaction very carefully. Was it really possible that he liked me? Just before Jasmine had opened the door, it had felt like he was about to kiss me….

  But he just gazed back at me, and what I could see in his eyes was the same conflict I’d seen that night outside the bar, when I’d asked him why he’d agreed to help me. Maybe he’s wondering how to let me down gently. Poor geeky girl who has a crush on him…I looked away and extricated myself as best I could. “She doesn’t understand that we’re just…friends. I mean, we are friends, right?”

  He gave me a slow nod. “Absolutely.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.”

  I should have felt better—I finally knew where I stood. Friends. I had a friend who I lusted after. A friend I was starting to feel something deeper for. A friend who, apparently, had no interest in me. Was it all my fault? Had I hesitated too long, back when I was denying even being attracted to him? Or had he always felt this way, and everything else was in my head?

  Why were men so difficult to read? Why couldn’t they come with a neon readout on their forehead showing exactly what they were feeling…and for whom?

  “Do you want to go out?” Connor asked.

  My train of thought hit the sudden turn and derailed completely.

  “What?!” I was just surprised, but it came out as horror.

  “As friends. Not as a date. Obviously.” He said it quickly, but was he just clarifying…or backpedalling?

  “Obviously,” I echoed. “Where?”

  “Somewhere you haven’t been.”

  “How do you know where I haven’t been?”

  “I have a pretty good idea of the sorts of places you go.”

  I folded my arms. “Oh, really? Maybe I’m not as predictable as you think.”

  He counted off on his fingers. “Harper’s and Flicker, because they’re basically part of Fenbrook. A few favorite posh restaurants. Classical concerts.” He studied me closely. “The New York Public Library and the Museum of Natural History.”

  My jaw dropped open. How did he know?! “Not even close,” I said. “I go to…MMA fights! And I go to the parties afterwards! In really seedy bars!”

  He leaned in close. “Really?”

  “No. Not really.” I hung my head. “God, I’m so boring!”

  “All the more reason to come out with me tonight. Eight o’clock.”

  “Where?”

  “It’ll be a surprise.”

  Chapter 15

  In a way, not knowing where we were going made it easier; if I’d had to dress for an upmarket restaurant or a low-rent bar, I’d have spent hours second-guessing my clothes. I put on jeans and a hooded top and declared myself ready. Then I added some lipstick. Then took it off again because we were just friends. Then put it on again just because.

  My phone rang, and I was so distracted that I didn’t even wonder who it might be, just snatched it up and put it to my ear. “Hello?”

  “How’s practice?” asked my father.

  Guilt rose up like a fist and slammed me in the gut. “F—Fine,” I told him, not very convincingly.

  He hesitated for a second. “You are practicing, aren’t you, Karen?”

  My breath was suddenly trapped in my chest. I had been, of course. Every spare moment I got…but not that night. I felt myself cringe. What was I doing? Going on some mystery not-really-a-date when—

  “It’s not long until the recital,” my father said, stealing my thoughts. “You should be practicing whenever you’re not actually in a lecture.” He hesitated again. “There’s not…there’s not a boy, is there?”

  “No! No, God, of course not! Don’t be silly!” I’d been saying the same thing for so many years that it sounded true, even to me. It was true. We were just friends, even if I was secretly lusting after him.

  “Everything okay with the apartment?” he asked, as he always did.

  “Yes.” I had my eyes squeezed shut, now. “Everything’s fine. Thank you.”

  “No letters about bills or anything?”

  He knew there weren’t. That was the point. My chest grew tight because I knew what was coming. “No,” I told him. “It’s all running fine. Thank you. Thank you for paying for everything.”

  He managed to sound shocked. “Oh, sweetheart! You don’t have to thank me! I know how hard you’re working. That’s thanks enough.”

  He would cut me off—that was the unspoken threat. If he found out about Connor, found out I wasn’t rehearsing tonight, found out I was lying to him, he’d simply stop paying for the apartment, the bills, and my allowance. And I’d have no choice but to slink back to Boston and live with him.

  “I should go and rehearse,” I told him in a small voice.

  “Don’t work too late. No good being tired in lectures.”

  “I love you.”

  “Love you too, sweetheart.”

  I hung up and sat down on the bed. What had I been thinking? He was right, I should be rehearsing. I’d call Connor and tell him I couldn’t make it. Remind him that he should be rehearsing, too. I scrolled through my contacts list with my thumb, but my eyes were hot and blurry, no matter how viciously I swiped at them with the back of my hand. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. It wasn’t even a date—it was just two friends going out. You’re just upset because you got caught. You knew it was wrong, to try to—

  Have a life.

  I sniffed and stared at Connor’s name for a long, long time. And then I called a cab.

  ***

  We met on 5th Avenue, which was my first clue. As we headed into Central Park and joined the crowds, I got it. “Ice skating?”

  “Ever do it?”

  “No.” It looked like it might be fun. Then I saw the slashing, gleaming blades cuttin
g into the ice at five thousand miles an hour and stopped.

  “Are you insane?” I asked.

  Connor looked genuinely bemused. “What? It’s not going to hurt that much if you fall over.”

  “Fingers!” I waggled mine in front of his face. “We’re musicians! What happens if you lose a finger?”

  He grinned at me. “You’re sweet.”

  I tried to ignore the warm rush that exploded in my chest. “I’m serious! I’m not risking my hands, and you shouldn’t either!”

  He patted me on the head.

  I should have been infuriated—Was infuriated and yet…it was completely different to how he would have done it when I first met him. It didn’t feel like he was mocking me, now. It felt like a shared gag. And the touch of his hand in my hair made me go tingly right down my back.

  “Do you trust me?” he asked.

  I looked at him. “Against my better judgment…yes.”

  “The blades aren’t that sharp. And I borrowed these.” He passed me a pair of thickly padded gloves. “Just to be on the safe side.”

  The warm glow he’d lit inside me grew stronger. He’d known that I’d be paranoid.

  He knew me.

  I took the gloves, laced on some skates and allowed him to lead me out onto the ice. I was nervous, but how hard could it be, right? I could see little kids out on the ice, and they were managing fine. It was probably easier than it looked.

  It wasn’t.

  Who came up with the idea of taking a human—with two perfectly good, flat feet—and balancing them on two razor-thin pieces of metal on a slippery, hard, freezing cold surface and calling it fun? Probably the same person who somehow injected every child under ten with pro-level ice skating skills, allowing them to whiz past me at the speed of sound while I did a Bambi impersonation.

  I staggered, my feet scrabbling for purchase and finding none, and fell on my ass for the seventeenth time.

  Connor slowed to a stop beside me and offered his hand. “Want to stop?”

  “No!” I said defensively as I got up. “I want to—” With absolutely no warning, I fell again, almost doing the splits as my legs shot from under me. “Stupid ice,” I said under my breath.

  When I looked up, he was doubled over with laughter.

  “What?” I asked, bemused.

  “Do you realize that you never swear?” he asked. “I mean, not even once, the entire time I’ve known you?”

  I reddened. “What’s so great about cursing?”

  “Nothing. It’s just…it’s adorable.”

  I flushed in a whole different way.

  He was still grinning, his eyes distant as he remembered something. “When you came to the bar that time and you stormed out, you said, ‘I don’t want your stupid beer.’ That was the moment I knew.”

  I blinked. “Knew what?”

  He went pale for a second. “Knew…that I had to help you.” He swallowed and rallied. “You were obviously helpless on your own.”

  I sighed and let him pull me up. He got me to my feet, but I slid forward and whacked right into him. There were about six layers of clothes between us, but I could still feel the warm wall of his pecs against me, my head cradled in his neck. Was that him, or me? Did he pull me harder than he had to, or did I slip more than I needed to?

  “Sorry,” I said, and I saw his body tense at the heat of my breath on his neck. I drew back a little and looked up at him….

  There was a flash, and we both looked round.

  A man on skates holding a camera had just taken a picture of us. “Am I okay to use that? It’s for the park website—romantic couples, y’know?”

  “We’re not together,” I said quickly. I wanted to get in there before Connor did, because if I heard the same words from his mouth I knew they’d hurt.

  “Oh! Sorry.” He beamed and skated off. Connor and I looked at each other in mutual embarrassment. I was freezing, bruised, my hands were numb despite the gloves and I was pretty sure my jeans were soaked through, but I wasn’t going to quit until he was ready.

  “Hot chocolate?” he asked, and I wanted to hug him.

  ***

  We wandered down the street, ostensibly looking for a cab but focused mainly on each other, our fingers gradually thawing in the heat from the cardboard cups. Fairy lights were lighting up the trees above, casting a soft glow over us and it felt magical. Like anything could happen.

  “Can I ask you something?” he said.

  I could feel his eyes on me, and I tensed up. “Sure.”

  “Why are you having problems? I mean, you ace all your performances, you get straight As…why do you even need the recital? What’s your weak spot?”

  I hadn’t shared my problem with anyone. Other people must have wondered why I always skipped the presentations, but they didn’t know why. I’d always been too self-conscious about it, but I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell him everything.

  “I can’t speak in front of people,” I told him. It sounded so pathetic, when I said it out loud.

  “You’re scared?” he asked.

  Yep, I thought guiltily. You have an actual problem, a learning disability. And I’m basically just afraid. “Yeah.”

  He was silent for a moment, and I thought I’d stunned him with how ridiculously minor my problem was. But he was frowning, really concentrating, and it hit me that he was imagining what it was like for me. No one had ever done that for me before.

  “That’s rough,” he said at last, and I could hear he meant it.

  “It’s stupid,” I said. “I should just get over it.”

  He put a hand on my shoulder and stopped me. “No, it isn’t. You can’t function if you’re scared.” The hand lifted to my cheek, and I drew my breath in.

  “What are you scared of?” I asked, more to cover what I was feeling than because I expected him to tell me.

  “Trying,” he said simply. “You can’t fail if you don’t try.”

  I looked up into his eyes. Another piece of the puzzle that was Connor Locke fell into place. The party lifestyle was easy. Playing solo in bars was easy. Battling the dyslexia, doing the recital…that was hard.

  And yet…he was doing it for me.

  And then I felt it. Something bigger than thought, heavier than an ocean. It hadn’t crept up on me; it had been there, hanging above me, for weeks. I just hadn’t acknowledged its presence.

  Standing there under the fairy lights, I finally let it slam down into me, and I felt like I was falling and flying at the same time. Oh my God.

  “Are you okay?” Connor asked, concerned. “You look…spooked.”

  A cab drew near and I practically ran under its wheels to get it to stop. “I’m fine!” I yelled over my shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” And before he could protest, I was bouncing into the back seat and waving goodbye.

  Even before his hand had dropped from its bemused wave, I had my phone out.

  “Natasha? It’s Karen. I’m in love with Connor Locke!”

  A second of bar noise and whispered voices. She must be in Flicker, with the others.

  “Duh!” chorused Natasha, Clarissa and Jasmine down the phone.

  Chapter 16

  “What do you mean, ‘duh’?” I asked. “You knew?!”

  I heard the phone being put down on the table as Natasha put me on speaker. “You have been spending a lot of time with him,” she said.

  “And he is super-hot,” said Clarissa.

  “And I caught the two of you in the storeroom,” said Jasmine. “Are you sure it’s love and not just…you know…the understandable desire to wrap your thighs around him?”

  I thought back to the sidewalk. My heart was still hammering from it. “Nope. Definitely the real thing.”

  All three of them squeed.

  “What do I do?” I asked.

  “Tell him, obviously.” It was Natasha’s voice, but I could hear them all making noises of agreement.

  “I can’t. I don’t know if he feels
the same. I don’t know if he feels anything. He might just feel sorry for me.”

  “Okay,” said Jasmine. “What you need is a signed contract from him saying he promises not to reject you if and when you choose to tell him. Then you can tell him safely.”

  I hesitated. “Really?”

  “No, you idiot, not really! I was making a point! There are no guarantees in this stuff. You just have to go for it.”

  I bit my lip. “What if he says ‘No’ and we can’t work together after that?”

  Jasmine was in full romance-guru mode. “You can’t put love on hold for your career!”

  “I’m serious! If we don’t do the recital together, I don’t graduate.”

  She went quiet for a second and when she spoke again, she’d sobered up. “Hmm.”

  We all sat there in silence, them in the dark, noisy warmth of Flicker and me in the back seat of a cab, rushing through the streets. Everyone was thinking hard, but no one came up with anything. It was Clarissa who eventually dared to speak. “This is still huge. You’re in love.”

  “I’ve never been in love before.”

  There was a shocked silence from the other end, which was when I realized I’d said it out loud.

  “Never?” asked Jasmine reverently. “That’s so romantic!”

  “He better not break your heart,” said Clarissa.

  “I haven’t even told him yet! I can’t tell him!” I thought for a second. “I’m seeing him tomorrow. He’s coming to my apartment to rehearse.” Suddenly, the world seemed to be shifting under me. When we’d arranged it, it had been no big deal—just a chance to work on his essay with him. But now….

  Now, I either had to risk everything and tell him how I felt…or sit there and pretend not to be in love with him.

  ***

  Construction work meant the cab had to take a circuitous route to get back to my area, which gave me some thinking time. I’d ended the call (after the girls had drunk toasts to me down the phone) and was sitting in the back of the cab, stewing.

  It was ridiculous—I couldn’t hide how I felt, just because of the recital.