Reverie

by Rico, Lauren

  “… The kiss?” I offer.

  “Yeah,” he nods. “Sorry, it was a little impulsive. I just wanted you to… to feel what you had just played. You know? You already had it in you. The passion, I mean.”

  Now he shrugs and the edges of his mouth curl up just a bit. “You just needed a little help to tap into it.”

  Oh, my. I feel the blush as it rises to my cheeks, giving me away. He pretends not to notice, but I’m sure I catch a wicked little twinkle in his hazel eyes.

  “So, when do you need to play it for Dr. Sam?” he asks, offering me a road back to more stable ground.

  “Friday.”

  “Would you like me to come and accompany you?”

  So much for stability.

  “Really?” I ask a little too quickly, a little too loudly. “Really?” I try again with less enthusiasm. “You’d do that for me?”

  “Sure,” he shrugs.

  I sit back, shaking my head at my good fortune.

  “Wow, that would be amazing, Jeremy. But are you sure you have time for that with finals coming up?”

  “I’ll make the time,” he says.

  “Okay… well, my lesson is Friday at eleven in Dr. Sam’s studio, up on the third floor.”

  “I can be there then.”

  I put a tentative hand on his forearm.

  “Thank you, Jeremy. I mean it. If you hadn’t helped me, I wouldn’t be playing that piece. And I really want to play it.”

  He pats my hand on his arm. It’s a warm, soft hand. I wish he’d leave it there for a little bit longer, but he pulls it away and gets off the stool.

  “Really, it was no problem. Now, if you and your boots will excuse me, I have to get home to Brooklyn to teach a lesson. I hope to see both of you at orchestra rehearsal tomorrow. Oh, and you really should bring Mini with you.”

  “Mini? Who’s Mini?”

  “Mini Skirt! You, Mini, the boots, you’d be like this trifecta of sexy in the middle of the orchestra,” he grins.

  I roll my eyes.

  “You’re awful!” I giggle. “No Mini, but boots and I will be there with her more conservative cousin, Midi. Okay?”

  “Midi skirt? Is that a thing?”

  I roll my eyes.

  “You are such a guy! You’ll just have to wait until tomorrow to find out!”

  “And you are such a girl!” he counters, smiling. “But, I guess we all have to pick our own friends, don’t we?”

  Before I can answer, he bends down and gives me a peck on the cheek. I think maybe he just picked me.

  Jeremy is out the door in a second, waving at me as he crosses in front of the window, and melts into the afternoon foot traffic.

  12

  I’m so startled by the vibration of the phone in my pocket, that I drop my bow. It hits the base of my music stand with a loud clang and several people turn to look, including the Maestro. We’re all waiting patiently while he takes the time to work through a passage with the violin section. I mumble an apology for the disruption, feeling the familiar crawl of red from under my collar. Matthew would never text me during rehearsal. Not unless something was really wrong. I dig the phone out and take a peek at the screen.

  I like your boots.

  I look down at the new brown leather boots without thinking. What kind of a message is that? It could be Jeremy, but I can’t be sure… I take a closer look at the phone and see that I don’t recognize the number that sent it. I type back as furtively as I can with a bow in one hand and a phone in the other.

  Who is this?

  Someone who can see your feet, obviously.

  I try not to be too obvious as I glance left and right. But, no one on either side is paying the least bit of attention to me. And, since no one in front of me can see my shoes without turning around, this has got to be someone behind me… Of course it’s someone behind me, it’s him. But how did he get my cell phone number?

  “What is it?” Mila asks from next to me, jarring me out of my thoughts.

  I lob the question back to her guiltily.

  “What’s what?”

  “What’s wrong with you? You’re being so weird today!”

  I’m saved from having to reply when the Maestro taps his baton on the podium.

  “Thank you for your patience, ladies and gentlemen. Please keep your voices down for just another moment while we sort out a bowing issue,” he says, with a pointed glance at Mila. She shakes her head and huffs.

  This time when the phone vibrates in my hand I nearly drop it.

  ‘Close call! Tell Motor Mouth to keep it down!’

  I can’t stifle the snort of laughter that overtakes me, but I’m able to camouflage it by slapping a hand to my mouth and turning it into a fake cough. So it is him!

  Stop it!

  Make me.

  That’s it. I nonchalantly knock the pencil off of my stand and ‘accidentally’ kick it behind my chair.

  “Oh!” I say, all feminine dismay, as I turn around and glance at the rogue No.2 longingly, as if the last morsel of food on earth is just outside of my grasp.

  “I’ve got it,” I hear Jeremy say from behind me.

  In an instant, he’s beside me, holding it out for me to take from his hand. When I reach for it, our hands touch briefly, and our eyes lock.

  “Thanks,” I whisper with a tentative smile.

  “You’re welcome,” he says, flashing bright whites at me and winking.

  “Ahem!”

  Mila isn’t amused by this interaction.

  “What’s the problem?” Jeremy asks, looking at her with a cocked eyebrow.

  For once, I’m not the one turning a bright crimson color. She turns around quickly and makes a show of looking for something in her music folder.

  “Nice boots,” he says, turning his attention back to me. “Are they comfortable?”

  “Uh… yes, I suppose…”

  “You don’t seem so sure about that. Why don’t we go for a walk later, and you can find out one way or the other?”

  Really? Did I just hear that right? Is this us moving further along into the ‘Friend Zone?’

  “I… uh… okay…”

  “Good! I’ll meet you in the lobby after my Counterpoint class. Five o’clock,” he says, retreating back to the horn section before I can have second thoughts and back out.

  I turn to Mila, who has witnessed the exchange with clear disdain on her face.

  “So, what do you think of these boots?” I ask her.

  ****

  “Tell me about you and Matthew,” Jeremy says as we circle the Revson Fountain in Lincoln Center.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Are you…?” he lets the question hang out there, only half asked. But I know what he wants to know.

  “No. Just very close friends.”

  “I’ve seen him around you. He’s very possessive. If he’s not sleeping with you, then he’d like to be.”

  “We’ve been through a lot together,” I say quietly.

  I don’t know if I want to go here just yet, but his eyebrows are raised expectantly. He’s waiting for me to elaborate.

  “We grew up together in foster care, Jeremy. He was all I had for a very long time. No parents, no friends, no one. When we first met, I wouldn’t even speak. Matthew didn’t care. He sat with me on the school bus, made sure no one teased me, and helped me with my homework. And all the time he’d just chatter away about whatever. It didn’t bother him that I didn’t talk back. This went on for a long time. Like months.”

  Jeremy has stopped and turned to face me, shocked by this information.

  “I had no idea.”

  I shrug.

  “It’s not something I tell many people about, you know? I don’t need people feeling sorry for me, or thinking that I’ve gotten as far as I have because someone else felt sorry for me.”

  He nods his understanding.

  “Matthew’s the one who got a cello into my hands,” I continue, tossing a f
ew pennies into the fountain as we circle again. “He’d already been playing the viola a couple of years when he went into foster care. I don’t know how he managed it, but he convinced one of the caseworkers to find me a beat-up old cello. Jeremy, I never wanted to put the thing down. It was as if the cello spoke for me. And then, finally, one day I spoke for myself. I swear, Matthew did for me what a bunch of psychiatrists, doctors and social workers couldn't do. He helped me to find my voice.”

  I’ve never talked about this with anyone. But I have to admit that as hard as it was to start, this feels good.

  “Jesus, Jules,” he whispers as he shakes his head in awe. “That’s… that’s some unbelievable shit that you went through.”

  “Jules?” I ask. “Where’d you get that from?”

  “You prefer Julia then?”

  I suddenly find myself intrigued by this thing he’s doing with his mouth. It’s part smile, part smirk. And it’s so sexy I can’t stand it.

  “Yes?” I mumble distractedly.

  “You seem to be unsure of your name a lot,” he says, mocking me openly now.

  “Uh- no. I mean Jules is fine.”

  “It’s a lot better than Mouse, right?”

  “What?” I say sharply, suddenly focused.

  “Hey, what is it? What’s wrong?” he asks, taken aback by the change in my tone.

  I think I’m going to yell at him, that I’m angry with him for being the third person today to reference the moniker. But when I open up my mouth to speak, tears start to spill from my eyes and down my cheeks. Good God, this is ridiculous. I’m overly emotional because I’m exhausted and stressed.

  “Hey, wait! Stop! Don’t cry!” he says, sounding really alarmed now. “Why does it bother you so much? It’s just a name.”

  “You’re right. And it’s a name I’ve had for a long time, but it didn’t start out nasty like that,” I sniff. “Dammit, I’m good! But these idiots call me a mouse like I’m this weak little creature hiding in the corner, living on other people’s crumbs. Like I don’t deserve what I have.”

  “Just because they say it doesn’t make it true,” he says trying to sooth me now.

  “Doesn’t it?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Jeremy, it’s like I said that night at the diner. We’ve been in school together for years, and you don’t know a thing…”

  “I’ll never forget anything about you again,” he assures me.

  I’m shaking my head. He doesn’t understand and he’s trying to placate me.

  “They call me Mouse.”

  “I know.”

  “I don’t… I can’t…”

  Jeremy extends his hand. I’m not sure what it is he wants, but I take it and he pulls me up and into his arms, adjusting himself so that my head rests on his chest. He strokes my hair and speaks soothingly.

  “You’re not taking anyone’s crumbs, Jules. You don’t need them. You’re a better musician than any of them can even dream of being. They’re just jealous, that’s all.”

  This is so mortifying, and yet I can’t stop crying. He holds me for what seems like a long time until finally I can look up at him.

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to dump all that…”

  And then, he simply leans down and kisses me again, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. His lips are electric on mine, sending a delicious shock right to my core. I am the one to cradle his face, this time. I breathe him in through my nose and drink him in with my lips. I can’t even open my eyes until he pulls away and stands up, gathering me back into his arms. I look up at him.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  A look of confusion fills his beautiful face.

  “What are you thanking me for?”

  “For being here. For listening. For the kiss. I know it’s nothing, but it made me feel better...”

  “Who says this has to be nothing?” he asks, pushing me away from him a little at the shoulders so I have to look at him.

  “I don’t know. I just assumed,” I say, conveniently pretending to examine one of his buttons so I won’t have to look him in the eye. My voice is barely a whisper.

  “Now, Jules, think about the conversation we’ve just had. You don’t like it when people make assumptions about you. I think you should extend me the same courtesy,” he chides me gently as he uses his thumbs to wipe the remnants of tears from my face.

  He’s absolutely right.

  “So…” I say, with a sniff, not really knowing what my next words are going to be.

  “So,” he picks up my unformed thought, “if this isn’t nothing, then maybe it’s something. Maybe not. But we won’t know unless we try, right?” he says, locking his eyes on mine so I can’t look away.

  I nod.

  “How about we start with some dinner, a bottle of wine, maybe another walk later on. We can see where things go from there. Sound good?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I start hesitantly, “but, Jeremy…”

  “What?” he asks before I can finish, concern clear in his voice. “What is it, Jules?”

  “My feet are killing me. I’ve got to get out of these boots,” I say earnestly.

  “Oh, well, we can’t have you suffering,” he says, his brows knitting together with exaggerated concern. “I think we’d better get you out of those as soon as possible.”

  He looks as if he’s having a light bulb moment now.

  “Say, isn’t your building right around here?”

  13

  He steps forward, I move back. We repeat the process again and again like some sort of unidirectional tango until I find myself backed up to the wall in the foyer of my apartment. Jeremy steps toward me again. And again. And again, until he’s so close to me, that I can feel his sweet, warm breath on my face.

  “You appear to be out of floor,” he murmurs, moving his mouth toward my ear.

  “Yes, it would seem so…” I say, closing my eyes in anticipation of his lips on me. But, when I don’t feel them, I open my eyes again and he’s gone.

  What? Where did he go? I’ve no sooner formed the question then I feel his hands on my calf. He’s pulling the long zipper down the left boot. When he’s done, he looks up at me.

  “Lift,” he says.

  I do, and he extracts my stockinged foot. After we repeat the process with the right side, he picks up the pair and tosses them into the living room, where they land on the carpet with a dull thud.

  “Hey!” I protest with a laugh. “Those were expensive!”

  In an instant, he’s upright again, his face only inches from mine.

  “I’m sorry, Jules, I cannot allow your tender little feet to suffer for fashion. The boots have to go,” he says firmly.

  “Is that so?” I ask, with a hint of a challenge to my tone.

  “It is,” he says as he leans around me, rubbing his rough cheek against mine and making me giggle.

  The giggle turns to a sharp gasp the second he takes my earlobe into his mouth and starts to nibble gently. He has a perfectly sculpted chest. I know this because it is now pressed up against my breasts, and I can feel every contour as he breathes in and out. Now, he’s kissing behind my ear, making his way slowly down my neck. I groan when he gets to the collarbone. Who knew it was such a hotspot? I’m so enthralled by his mouth that I barely notice he’s quickly unbuttoning each of the buttons on my blouse. In an instant it’s off my shoulders and hitting the floor with a silky swish. With long, strong arms, he reaches around behind me, unzips my skirt and helps it along on its journey to join the blouse.

  Who is this woman? Since when do I sleep with guys I hardly know? I guess since I have the opportunity to sleep with this guy. I can’t deny it. I’ve been attracted to him since we were in freshman music theory together, but it never even occurred to me that it might lead to something like this.

  “Jeremy,” I say quietly.

  He looks up from where he’s kissing my shoulder and I touch the side of his face. My thumb rubs his chee
kbone gently while my other hand brushes back the hair from his forehead. I feel his eyebrows with my fingertips and trace the curve of his mouth. He watches me in intense silence as I memorize each of his features by touch.

  Finally, my gaze finds its way back to his, his face held gently in my hands.

  “Jeremy, I…”

  And again he grabs me and pulls my mouth hard into his. Until this very second I don’t realize how hungry I am for this, for him. I wrap my arms around his neck and draw him even closer against me. I want to feel every inch of him against every inch of me.

  Sex has never been like this before. Pleasurable, sure. Sweet even. But this heat, this longing. I’ve never wanted anyone or anything as much as I want this man right now. Even as his tongue is exploring my mouth, he’s unclasping my bra. I’m impressed. I can’t even get it undone that fast. He slides it off, and his hands immediately find my liberated breasts. His thumbs begin to draw slow circles around my nipples and there is an immediate jolt of electricity to my core.

  “Ahh…”

  I have to break our kiss so I can speed this along. I unbutton his shirt as quickly as I can without ripping it off of him. Before it can even hit the floor, my hands are upon him. I’m desperate to feel the smooth skin over his taut muscles. First the chest, then I reach around to feel the ripple of his back and he grabs me again, pulling me into a tight embrace. I rest my head against him, every quickened beat of his heart echoing in my ears. I hear his breath as it moves from his lungs, and when he finally speaks again it is like a rumble from the center of the earth.

  “I think maybe we should move this somewhere else. What do you think?”

  I’m exhilarated and terrified at the same time. What if I disappoint? What if he thinks I’m ugly when he sees all of me? What if….

  “Jules?”

  His voice is a concerned whisper close to the top of my head.

  I don’t look at him as I separate my body from his. It’s my turn to make the gesture. I simply turn away, holding my hand out behind me. He takes it and I lead him down the short hallway to my bedroom. Once we are inside I turn to face him but he’s already on me, lifting me, pushing me, steering me gently, but firmly, onto my bed. I don’t bother to turn the lights on. There’s such a delicious thrill in the unseen, the unknown. I’m actually trembling with the anticipation of it.