by S. M. Shade
Apparently not.
He’s my last lesson of the night, and he’s just getting to his truck when I start unchaining my bike from the rack in front of the beauty parlor next door. He even walks sexy, with a confident air that’s not arrogant enough to be a swagger.
Stop ogling him, Kelly.
Just as I’m climbing on my bike, he waves. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”
Yeah, I want a ride.
Oh my god. Where did that thought come from? Who do I think I’m kidding? I couldn’t ride him if he wanted me to. That’s one thing Stanley used to taunt me about that’s true. I can still hear his smug voice when I’d refuse to sleep with him, “You wouldn’t know what to do with it, anyway.”
Mr. Aldrich stares at me, and I remember he’s waiting for a response. “It’s not raining.”
“I’m going that way,” he laughs, and the next thing I know, I’m back in his truck. The ride home is much shorter than it is from school, but it still gives us a few minutes to talk.
“You mentioned your grandmother’s retirement home has people come in to entertain them?”
“Occasionally. Usually family members. I know the choir from the high school comes in to sing around the holidays.”
Giving piano lessons is fun, but it’s still work, and with all my other responsibilities at work, it’s not like I can play for fun. I’d love an opportunity to play just for the sake of it. Especially for people who would enjoy and appreciate it. “Can anyone volunteer?”
He parks in front of my apartment then turns to regard me. “They’re always looking for volunteers.”
“I’d like to. I don’t have my own piano and I’d love an opportunity to play more. What’s the name of the retirement home? I’ll give them a call.”
“Shady Acres.” The streetlight half lights his face and damn, those eyes are striking. I have a long moment to admire them as he seems to be considering his next words. “You could meet me there and play when I visit if you like. Then you could talk with the managers to see how the volunteer program works.” His lips tilt into a smile. “Just don’t let my secret slip about learning to play.”
“My lips are sealed. How far away is the home?” Hopefully, it’s close enough to bike to, but I can Rideshare if it isn’t too often.
“It’s on the south side of town. A bit far for a bike ride. Is your car in the shop?”
“No, it’s…gone. It’s a long story.” And an embarrassing one I don’t want to explain here. “But I can Rideshare and meet you.”
He looks like he wants to speak a few times before he finally says, “We’ll work something out.”
We get out, and he pulls my bike out of the back of his truck. “See you tomorrow at nine, Mr. Aldrich.”
“Looking forward to it, Ms. Bryant.”
The girly, flirty part of my brain that has somehow been shaken awake after a lifetime of hibernation really wants to read into that statement.
Serena is the only one around when I get inside. “Hey, how is the new job going?”
“Good. I like it so far.” My stomach growls, and I grab a few items from the fridge to make a sandwich.
“Do you work weekends?”
“I work every Friday and Saturday evening. But I get off early.”
“Perfect. I have someone I want you to meet.”
Her grin spreads when I give her a cautious look. “You still want to find a starter penis, right?”
“Yeah, but…”
“He’s a really nice guy. He comes in my work a lot for lunch with his coworkers. He’s always respectful and tips great. He’s not my type, too clean cut, but I said I had a friend he’d be perfect for. I can give him your number this week.”
My instinct is to say no but I’m not sure why. This is what I wanted, to date and find someone I like. It’s not as if a guy is just going to walk up to my door and offer his penis for a deflowering. “What’s he like?”
“He seems nice. Talks to me and smiles a lot. I’m not sure what line of work he’s in but he dresses nice so he’s some kind of professional. Average height and weight with blonde hair and a sexy smile. He’s a little older, but that’s a good thing.”
“How much is a little?”
“Probably around thirty if I had to guess, no older than that. You want someone who knows what they’re doing, Kel. Older is better.”
How about an older teacher? The thought comes unbidden, and I know I need to stop even entertaining that fantasy. “Okay, give him my number and have him text me.”
I’m exhausted and head to bed after I finish eating. At least I don’t have class tomorrow, but I do have coursework to get done before my shift at the music store.
I’m up early to get a head start on it. If this is the kind of workload I’m getting at the beginning of the year, I can’t imagine how much worse it’s going to get. The work isn’t difficult. There’s just a lot of it and nothing I’m really interested in.
Even before I agreed to give college a try, I was hesitant about it, mainly because I have no idea what I want to do as a career. Trey insisted I should go, and that I could just take general education classes until I figured out a plan. Part of me still thinks it’s a mistake to go into debt—even to my brother—for some degree to be decided in the future, but since I have no idea where to start with this new life, I’m taking his advice.
The only class that’s interesting or fun is music, and it’s not like I’m going to major in that. I’m slogging through two chapters of my economics book and trying to hold my eyes open when Zara joins me at the kitchen table.
“Ugh, econ, I hated that class. What a snore fest. Did you get Ms. Fadun?”
“No, Mr. Aldrich.”
“Hmm, haven’t heard of him.” She leans her elbows on the table. “Anyway, I have a guy for you to meet.”
These girls aren’t wasting any time.
“He’s in my women’s studies class and he’s totally enlightened. He won’t pull any sexist bullshit on you. Plus, he’s hot. I think he’d be perfect for you.”
“No way. Back off, I already found her a date,” Serena exclaims, stalking in and putting a bag on the counter. Owen is right behind her and he leans against the counter, grinning at the conversation.
Zara rolls her eyes. “There’s no way your choice is better than mine.”
Serena opens her mouth to argue, and I hold my hand up with a laugh. “Don’t argue. I can talk to them both. Wow, it’s raining men all of a sudden.”
Owen crosses his arms. “Raining men would be horrible. I mean, the streets would be running with blood, the screams would be deafening, and just think of all the busted windshields and bashed in roofs. What an awful thing to say. No wonder you’re single.”
“Are you finished?” I ask, trying to restrain a smile. Owen is hilarious at times, but he always has something to say. It’s a little exhausting.
“Almost. First, I have to point out the obvious. Why search when you have the perfect specimen right in front of you?” He rubs a hand slowly down his chest. “What do you think?”
“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you over the sound of my vagina clanging shut.”
We grin at each other, and he puts his hand over his heart. It’s become a thing between us to tease one another ever since the party, and I have to admit, it’s a lot of fun.
A glance at the clock reminds me I need to get moving if I don’t want to be late for work. My books get tossed on my desk, and I throw my lunch bag into my backpack. Slinging it over my back, I head out on my bike, leaving Zara and Serena still discussing the men they’re setting me up with.
I should be excited, I suppose, but it’s kind of nerve wracking too. It also feels a little pathetic if I’m being honest. Like I shouldn’t need my friends trying to hunt down someone who might be interested in me. Shouldn’t it happen more naturally?
What does excite me is something that shouldn’t. Mr. Aldrich will be back tonight for his lesson and the thought stays at th
e front of my mind while I rearrange stock, clean, and help customers in between giving two piano lessons.
He’s my teacher, and I know nothing could ever happen with him, but that doesn’t keep my daydreams from leading me there. Being lost in my head makes my shift pass quickly and before I know it, I look up and see him watching me from the doorway with a smile.
“Oh, hey.” There go those stellar social skills again.
“I didn’t want to interrupt. You looked like you were really concentrating.”
If he only knew.
“Come on in. I was just looking for the next song to teach you. Happy Birthday shouldn’t take you long to learn.”
“You may have more faith in the coordination of my hands than I do.”
He sits beside me on the piano bench, and I bring out the sheet with the notes marked. I’ve also put the corresponding stickers on the piano so we’re ready to go.
God, he smells good. It’s some kind of cologne that I’ve noticed before, when he was showing me how to light the pilot on the water heater, but there’s another lighter scent that just seems to be…him. Being this close to him is distracting. I have to get it together.
“Okay, first you find middle C.” He watches as I point it out. “You’re going to position your right hand like this, where your thumb is over middle C.”
His first lesson isn’t difficult and despite his claim of being uncoordinated, he doesn’t seem to struggle with anything.
“Let’s go through it one more time,” I advise, when it’s almost time for him to go.
His hand starts in the wrong place and he stops, recognizing the wrong note when he plays it.
“Like this,” I correct and take his hand, lining his fingers up with the right keys. His hands are nice. Big, with long fingers and smooth skin. I hate to let it go.
He plays through it again, slowly and carefully. “Good. I think you’ve got it. You just need to practice at home. If you play it enough times, you’ll build muscle memory and it’ll feel more natural. Also, sit up straight. Pay attention to your posture as you play. It’s easier to begin that way than correct it later.” Just because he may not be planning to learn more than a few songs, you never know. Music has a way of grabbing you and pulling you in.
“Yes, Ms. Bryant,” he says in a teasing voice, straightening his back.
“How the tables have turned,” I laugh, getting to my feet.
He returns his keyboard to its bag. “Do you work tomorrow night?”
“No, I’m off on Wednesdays.”
There’s a hesitant pause before he adds, “I’m going to visit my grandmother tomorrow evening if you’d like to come with me to play for them. The activities manager should be there if you want to talk to her about volunteering.”
“Yeah, that sounds good. Do you know what time you’ll be going?”
“Would five o’clock work? I can give you a ride.”
The last thing I want is for him to start seeing me as a loser who needs a ride everywhere. “Thanks, but I can manage.” One of the girls might be home and willing to take me, but if not, I’ll Rideshare. Like it or not, I’m not going to be able to ride a bike everywhere and I’ll have to budget some money for Rideshare sometimes. I’m glad I still have some emergency savings from before I left home. Dad wasn’t able to take that since I had my own account. It’s not enough to buy a car, but enough to get me around until I figure something out.
“I’ll see you there, then.”
Once he leaves, I finish up a few things, and sweep the floor before calling to Mr. Cooper to let him know I’m done for the day.
The night air is cool, and I enjoy my bike ride home. The streets aren’t busy, and the stars are out. It strikes me again how drastically my life has changed.
Not everything has been easy, but I think I’ve done well adjusting to my new normal. I’ll take this existence, this day of working at a job I enjoy, riding my bike home with no one asking me where I am or telling me what I’m supposed to do, over my old life any day.
Serena drops me off at the retirement home the next day, and I see Mr. Aldrich park his truck just as she drives away. He’s changed from the slacks and button up shirt he wore to economics class today into a pair of dark jeans and a fitted tee. I’m not sure I heard more than two minutes of today’s lecture. My mind was too busy daydreaming about how it would feel to kiss him. It’s odd the way I seem to see him as two different people sometimes. The teacher and the hot guy.
Is there any chance he also sees me as more than his student or the girl who is helping him learn piano? Does he notice me at all? Do I really want him to?
Chapter Seven
Layton
I’m walking a thin line when it comes to Kelly Bryant. Nothing at all inappropriate has happened but spending time outside of school with a student is a big red flag. People will assume the worst. Technically, there’s nothing wrong with taking piano lessons from her or with her volunteering at my grandmother’s nursing home, but if we’re seen together too often, rumors will start to spread. I’ve seen it happen before.
I may not be sure whether I want to continue teaching after this year, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to implode any future chance at it, not to mention be labeled as a creep or predator.
The activities manager, Debra, is happy to talk to Kelly, and I leave them chatting about volunteer opportunities while I find my grandmother. She’s sitting in the lounge, playing cards with a few other residents. A pile of hard candies and change rests in the middle of the table. They’re caught up in their game and don’t notice me when I walk up to watch.
“Straight flush,” Grandma exclaims, laying down her cards.
“Melina, you heifer!” Agnes exclaims, tossing her cards on the table.
The only man in their foursome shakes his head. “She put the hoodoo on them cards, I done told you. She’s a witch.”
Grinning ear to ear, Grandma pulls the pile of loot toward her. “If I were going to jinx you, I’d make you wet yourself.”
“Don’t need a jinx for that,” Barbara says.
“Keep on with me and see if you don’t all find a soggy diaper under your pillow,” the man threatens.
An orderly perched on a stool nearby saunters over. “Hold up just a minute, Ms. Dawkins and let me see your winnings.”
“What kind of police state is this?” Grandma complains as he inspects the pile she’s about to shove in a purse.
My chuckle draws her attention, and she grins. “Layton, see how they are? Trying to take a helpless old lady’s candy?”
The orderly rolls his eyes at me and plucks something from the pile. “Maybe because you all keep betting your medication.” He holds up a Valium.
“Now how did that get in there?” Grandma exclaims. “Agnes, your glaucoma is acting up. That wasn’t an M&M.” She scoops the rest of her haul into her purse and gets to her feet. “Sorry, time to go visit with my grandson.” As we walk away, she mumbles. “Asshole saw it at the last minute.”
“Why do I think you probably have more fun than I do?” I laugh, sitting beside her on one of the couches.
Kelly and Debra enter the room, still chatting for a moment before Debra gets called away by a resident. The shy smile on Kelly’s face as she approaches us is adorable.
“Okay, I’m officially a volunteer. I’m going to play today. Then I can let them know my availability and come in whenever it’s convenient.”
“That’s great. I told you they’d be glad to have you.”
Grandma looks up at her, then smacks me on the arm. “Layton Aldrich, you introduce me right now.”
Kelly grins down at her. “I’m Kelly Bryant. You must be Mr. Aldrich’s grandmother.”
Grandma turns to me. “Mr. Aldrich? Well, aren’t we putting on airs.”
My palm runs over my forehead, and I close my eyes for a moment. “Grandma, she’s one of my students from the college. She’s come to play the piano.”
Grandma regar
ds Kelly. “It’s nice to meet you, honey. I’m Melina Dawkins. You can call me Melina.” The pointed look she gives me makes Kelly giggle.
“It’s good to meet you too.”
“Are you single, Kelly?”
Oh no. I should’ve seen this coming. The question clearly catches her off guard, and I intervene. “You don’t have to answer that.” Turning to Grandma, I add, “It doesn’t matter if she’s single. She’s my student. Don’t even start.”
Grandma blinks at me, trying to look innocent. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. You shouldn’t get so worked up.” Shaking her head, she tells Kelly. “He always was a bit uptight, even as a kid. I used to look for the other end of the stick up his keister when he yawned.”
Right. This wasn’t a great idea. “I left the box of brownies I brought you in the car. I’ll be right back,” I announce, glad to have a reason to step away.
“Take your time!” Grandma pats the couch beside her. “Let me and this nice young lady get to know each other a bit.”
Kelly laughs and takes a seat beside her.
Not a good idea at all. I can only imagine the conversation when I walk away. When I return with the box of brownies, Kelly is taking a seat at the piano and the lounge is now full of residents waiting to hear her play.
“I got you some—”
“Shh!” Grandma swats at me as I sit beside her. “She’s starting.”
The first few notes ring out clear and confident, and I can’t take my eyes off of her. Over the past weeks, I’ve seen her nervous and fumbling, funny and giggling. This Kelly, who sits with her back straight, red hair hanging to her shoulder blades, is a new sight. The effortless way her fingers move over the keys is as sexy as it is impressive, but that’s not what has me so enraptured by her now. It’s the expression on her face and her whole demeanor. The soft smile, the way she closes her eyes at moments, as if she’s feeling the music she’s creating, how she holds herself. Confidence and joy radiate from her and in that moment I know. I don’t see her as a student or a piano teacher. In that instant, I don’t care that she’s younger than me. She’s beautiful.