Double Exposition (Songs and Sonatas Book 1)

by Jerica MacMillan

  “Okay. I don’t know that many restaurants around here, so you pick.”

  Ten minutes later, he pulls into a spot in a parking garage downtown, moving his guitar into the trunk before we head to the elevator. He walks close beside me, almost close enough to touch, but he doesn’t reach for my hand this time. “Have you been to River Park Square yet?”

  I shake my head, glancing up at him.

  He smiles. “There are a few good restaurants here, so you can decide what you’re in the mood for.” After stepping off the parking garage elevator, he guides me to the escalators and down to the main floor where he points out two restaurants. I pick the more casual burger place, and we’re seated right away.

  Neither of us speak while we look over the menu. Even though I decide what I want right away, I keep my attention focused on the laminated sheet in my hand, not sure yet what to make of all of this. Is this a date? He said he couldn’t stop thinking about me, but he also didn’t say what he wants, specifically.

  Glancing up through my eyelashes, I find him watching me, his menu flat on the table in front of him, his elbows resting on either side of it with his hands pressed together, his index fingers resting against his lips. He seems to be contemplating me, and I shift in my chair under his scrutiny. Finally, I lay the menu down, square myself and meet his eye.

  Just as I open my mouth to ask the main question looping through my brain—Is this a date?—the waitress comes up to take our order. After she leaves, he starts asking me about school, and the moment is lost.

  Chapter Five

  Jonathan

  The waitress leaves with our menus and food order, and Gabby watches her walk away. I clear my throat and reach for my water, not sure where to go with this. I wanted to see her again, talk to her again, but now that I’m here with her, awkwardness has crept between us. Things were so easy the other night. But now? We’re both silent.

  After clearing my throat again, she looks at me, and I offer a small smile. “So how are classes going?”

  She stares at me for a beat, something like disappointment flashing across her face. “Good. Eight o’clock theory classes every morning is rough, though. Sight Singing and Ear Training is harder than I expected, but the rest of my schedule is good. I really like my violin teacher, and the orchestra conductor is great.”

  “What’s hard about Sight Singing and Ear Training?” She mentioned that class last week, but I didn’t ask more about it. I didn’t know that was a thing. Or what the class could possibly be, based on the title.

  She gives me a look like I must be crazy. “Have you ever been given a piece of music and have to sing it correctly on sight? Without having anyone play the melody for you or anything like that? You just have to read it and sing it and be good. In front of the whole class.”

  I freeze with my glass of water halfway to my mouth. “That sounds horrifying. And potentially humiliating.”

  “Right?” She punctuates her statement by pointing her finger at me. “We’re all in the same boat in there, so the first couple of times you have to sing it’s awful, but after that it’s not so bad. But the professor—oh my God.”

  She shakes her head in dismay as she contemplates her professor, which of course only makes me want her to keep talking. Her expressions are priceless, and I can’t get enough of her slight accent, the way she draws out the vowels of certain words and flattens others. The waitress brings our food in that pause, and Gabby picks up her burger without hesitation. I have to wait a few minutes before I can prompt her to continue.

  “So what about your professor?”

  She rolls her eyes again and holds her fingers in front of her mouth as she finishes chewing, her dark eyes bright with suppressed laughter. “Oh my God. Dr. Lolo. He has perfect pitch, which makes him the absolute worst to teach that class.”

  “Really?” I reach for a fry, my eyebrows crinkled together. “I’d think that would be a good thing.”

  She shakes her head, wiping her mouth with her napkin and settling it back in her lap. “No. It’s awful. He doesn’t get how difficult it is to sight sing when you’ve never had to do something like that before. He stands up there and says, ‘It’s so easy. Sol-ti-re-fa. Fa-la-do. So easy!’” She pitches her voice higher when she imitates her professor, and I chuckle at her impression. Then she covers her face with her hands. “And the chord and melody dictation. It’s the worst.”

  She lets out a groan that sends my blood rushing south. Images of other things I could do to get her to make that sound flicker through my mind. I shift in my seat, my jeans feeling tighter than they did a second ago. Dammit. I just wanted to talk to her again. I’d convinced myself that that was all I wanted. To hang out. Be friends. I can’t talk to anyone about music the way we did at the coffee shop. But she’s still a baby. I need to keep my thoughts about her G-rated.

  I clear my throat, hoping I still sound casual and friendly. “What’s chord and melody dictation?”

  She takes another big bite of her burger and lets out another stifled moan. Sweet Jesus, those sounds are going to be the death of me. “Chord dictation is where he plays a series of chords on the piano and we have to write down what they are. Melody dictation is the same idea, but it’s a melody instead of a chord progression. By the end of class, the notes all blend together and just sound like musical soup.”

  A smirk comes to my face at her description, and she narrows her eyes at me.

  “It’s not funny. It’s horrible. And I suck at that class.”

  “Seriously? Because I heard you playing earlier, and it didn’t sound out of tune or anything to me.”

  Her eyes drop and a crooked smile comes to her face. “You’re sweet,” is all she says, and she won’t look at me. She wouldn’t take the same compliment before either. Hmm.

  I open my mouth to say something about that, but her eyes snap to mine and she cuts in before I can get a word out. “So what were you doing in the music building? I’ve never seen you there before.”

  She has a knowing look on her face, like she’s waiting for me to confirm something for her. I shrug. “Working on a song. My roommate was getting annoyed with me for playing the same thing over and over, so I decided to get out of the house and try somewhere new. See if that helped shake anything loose.” That much is true, at least, if not the whole story. But I’m not going to admit that I wouldn’t have been there if I wasn’t trying to run into her again.

  Yeah, I could’ve called her or texted her. I still have her number, even though I tried to make myself delete it. Trying to be the better man and leave her alone. But I can’t. I started using the practice rooms and figured I’d let fate decide if I saw her again.

  Nodding, she bites the inside of her cheek and pokes a french fry in a pool of ketchup. “And did it?”

  “Maybe. Something’s not quite right with it, but I’m having a hard time figuring out what it is exactly. I wish I had someone to bounce it off of. See if a fresh perspective can help me find out what’s missing.”

  Her gaze sharpens, and she’s searching my face, like she’s looking for some hint that I’m not being honest. Why that statement would provoke that response, I can’t guess. So I return her look, keeping my own expression open as I finish eating.

  She drops her eyes back to her own plate and picks up the rest of her burger. The sharpness is gone when she meets my eyes again. “So we’ve talked all about my classes. How about you? Lots of hard stuff your senior year? Or did you save the easy gen eds for last?”

  I chuckle, watching her finish her food. “It’s a mix. I’m taking a PE class this semester, which is pretty easy, and a nice break. But I have a few upper level English classes, like Literary Criticism and Victorian Literature.”

  She nods. “That’s right. You had that Dickens novel at the coffee shop.”

  The conversation stays on my class load while she finishes her burger, and she nods and giggles at my jokes. I could get used to making her laugh.

  Th
e waitress asks if we want dessert, and we both say no. When she brings the check, I wave off Gabby’s attempt to split the bill, which makes her watch me with that sharpened gaze again, like she’s trying to figure me out.

  That’ll be hard to do, because I’m not entirely sure what I’m doing here either. I was just supposed to talk to her again. Taking her out to dinner was a spur of the moment decision. She was about to leave, and I had to do something to get her to talk to me. And I’ve had my fill of eating in the cafeteria the first two years I was at Marycliff. If she’d insisted, I would’ve joined her anyway, but I was glad she agreed to come out with me.

  She’s quiet on the way to the car, like she’s thinking, and when we get in the car, she’s biting her lip and fiddling with the strap on her backpack. Part of me wants to ask what she’s thinking about, especially since her silence is such a contrast to her usual animated conversation. But I let it go, focusing instead on navigating through downtown to get back to campus.

  About halfway back, we’re stopped at a light when she looks at me. “If you want, I’ll listen to your song that you’re working on.”

  “What?”

  She lets out a sigh. “Never mind. If you don’t want to play it for me, that’s fine. You just said you wished you could get someone else’s opinion. So I thought … But—“

  “No! I mean yes.” Christ, I sound like a moron, but I don’t want her to keep backing off, so I jump in. I let out a breath, pulling away from the light when it turns green. “I’m sorry. I’d love to get your opinion. I was just confused at first because my mind was somewhere else.” Like on how pink her lips look when she bites them like that.

  She gives me a smile. “Great. Okay. Well, just let me know when and where, and I’ll be there.”

  “Perfect.” I return her smile.

  I pull into the parking lot in front of her dorm and put my car in park. “I’ll text you later to figure out when you can come listen to my song.”

  Her eyes meet mine, and I see a flicker of uncertainty before her expression clears, and she gives me a small smile. “Sounds good. I’ll talk to you later.”

  And with that, she gets out of the car, giving me a little wave after closing the door. I wave back, watching her sling her backpack over one shoulder and head for the door, staring after her until she gets inside.

  My car feels quieter, emptier on the drive back to my house. Like she took all the life and energy out of my world when I dropped her off. Dammit. I need to be careful how much time I spend with her, or this could get out of hand.

  Chapter Six

  Gabby

  The key rattling in the deadbolt lets me know Lauren’s home. I lift my head from my theory homework as she walks in. “Hey.”

  She drops her backpack next to her desk, which is pushed against mine, and plops down in her chair. “Here you are. I saved you a spot at dinner, but you never showed.”

  I sit back and drop my pencil on the manuscript paper where I’m sketching out chord progressions in root position and first and second inversions for theory class tomorrow. Not very exciting, but it does cement the notes in my head for all the chords in C major. “Sorry. I meant to text you. I got … sidetracked.”

  Lauren raises her eyebrows. “Do tell.”

  I shift my mouth from side to side while I decide what I want to say. She freaked out for days after I met Jonathan in the coffee shop and then he came to the recital. Is she going to go nuts again?

  “Um, I ran into Jonathan in the music building, and he wanted to have dinner with me.”

  She lets out a squeal and sits down on my bed, face avid. “Okay. Tell me everything.”

  Laughing at her excitement, I push my notebook away and fill her in on the events of the evening.

  When I’m done, she studies my face, her eyes narrowing. “Earlier this week you were moping that he hadn’t called or texted, even though he asked for your number. Why aren’t you more excited about this?”

  I fiddle with my mechanical pencil, clicking out the lead, then pushing it back inside, considering the question. Lauren waits patiently. “I dunno. I mean, we had a nice dinner, and he paid like it was a date, right? He even opened my door for me, which I know guys around here don’t do.” I let out a sigh, feeling kind of dumb to admit this, but needing to get it out anyway. “But after the recital we held hands while we walked. I thought maybe he was going to kiss me at one point.” I spread my hands in a helpless gesture. “And tonight? Nothing. No touching at all. I guess I’m just confused. Was it a date? Or does he just want to be friends?”

  Lauren’s eyebrows scrunch together and she stares into the distance as she thinks. “Hmm.” She strokes her chin like a man strokes his beard. She calls it her existential beard, and she does that whenever she’s thinking about something.

  I wait, hoping she’ll come up with something wise and insightful. I mean, if you’re going to have an existential beard it might as well be useful, right?

  “I don’t know,” she finally says.

  Apparently not so useful after all. I wave my hands in her direction. “After all that, all you got is ‘I don’t know’?”

  She shrugs, pulling out her ponytail and running her fingers through her auburn hair. “You’re the one who’s spent all this time talking to him. I met him for like five seconds. All I really know about him is what they printed in teeny bopper mags six years ago. What do you think? Did you ask him?”

  I shake my head and look down at my homework. I’ve been puzzling over the question of whether or not tonight was a date since I got back. Music theory has been providing some distraction, but even with that my thoughts keep slipping back to our evening together. “He said he couldn’t stop thinking about me.”

  “Well, there you go. That sounds like a date to me.”

  I shrug, tired of going in circles about this. “Yeah, maybe.”

  Eyebrows raised, Lauren asks, “Did you make any new plans?”

  “Sort of. I mean, I offered to listen to a song he’s working on, and he said he’d text me to set something up.”

  “Hmm. Interesting.”

  There’s a sly quality to her voice that has me eyeing her suspiciously. “What?”

  “I dunno. It sounds like a way to get a girl in your bedroom. I think he likes you.” She says the last part in a singsong voice, making me laugh.

  “Okay, fine. I’ll let you know what happens if he actually has me listen to his song.” I pull my papers closer to me again. “Have you finished our theory homework? Because I’m only half done.”

  Lauren lets out a groan. “No. I’ll get mine out and do it too. You can help me if I get confused.”

  I chuckle and go back to making little ovals on the staff paper in front of me and labelling the chords and their inversions. Lauren sighs loudly again as she sits at her desk across from me, bending her head to do the same homework.

  It’s a good thing that we get along, since we’re both violin performance majors. In addition to sharing a room, we have half our classes together. But it’s nice to have someone to commiserate with about early classes, theory homework, and our sight singing professor. Even if she isn’t much help figuring out what’s going on with Jonathan. I think he’s the only one who can clue me in anyway.

  I check my phone while I lean against the column in front of the performing arts center waiting for Jonathan. No new emails or Facebook notifications in the last ten seconds since I looked at it. I’d read, but he should be here any second. So instead, I’m fidgeting.

  He texted me the day after our dinner and asked when I was free today to listen to his song. I have orchestra rehearsal until five, so he said he’d pick me up after, we could grab some dinner and go back to his place.

  When I showed Lauren the texts, she gave me a knowing look and a sly smile. “You’re going to his place to listen to his song?”

  “Yeah.”

  She shoved my shoulder. “Yeah you are. Make sure he wraps it up.”

 
Laughing, I shook my head. “I doubt that’s going to happen.”

  “Mmmhmm,” was all she said.

  Speaking of Lauren, she comes out of the building as Jonathan’s car pulls into the parking lot. She stops next to me, her eyes tracking the car as it pulls to a stop in front of the sidewalk where we’re standing.

  “Your chariot awaits.”

  “Shut up, Lauren.”

  She cracks up. “Seriously, have fun. See what happens. Don’t stress too much. Maybe he just wants to have you listen to something he wrote. Maybe he wants more.” Her eyebrows bounce up and down. “Just know what you want out of it.”

  The passenger door pops open from the inside, and Jonathan leans over so he can see me through the opening. “Ready?”

  “Ready.” Before I climb in, I turn and give Lauren a wave. “See you tonight.”

  She gives me a cheeky grin. “Sure. I won’t wait up, though.”

  I open my mouth to say something back, but before any words come out, she’s headed off toward the center of campus. Shaking my head, I slide into Jonathan’s car and close the door, immediately enveloped in the subtle, spicy scent of his cologne. It’s nice, though, not overwhelming.

  One of the male vocalists in my classes bathes in cologne. You can seriously track him through the building by following the smell.

  Jonathan uses a lighter hand. And a lighter scent. The effect is inviting and sensual.

  “Hey,” he says, giving me a smile.

  It isn’t the same practiced smile he gave me at the coffee shop when we met or Lauren at the recital. The one that was on all the posters I had of him when I was twelve. This smile is more private. More genuine. Like it’s just for me.

  I smile back, warmth spreading from my chest. I really like this guy. The crush I had on him as a twelve year old is nothing compared to now, now that I’ve met him and gotten to know him a little.

  And I’m suddenly nervous, partly hoping that Lauren’s right, partly afraid she is, and partly worried that he just wants to be friends after all. But he said he couldn’t stop thinking about me.