High Note (Pitch Perfect Book 2)

by H. L. Logan

  “You’re right. I could definitely make it to the next one, if Professor Barley hires you again,” I said. I knew Professor Barley would love Kaitlyn, and she’d be a hit with the gallery patrons, so she’d definitely be invited back. Hopefully with me in tow.

  “There you go,” said Kaitlyn, reaching out and touching my shoulder. “I am really sorry, by the way.”

  “No, no, I’m sorry,” I said. “I bit off more than I can chew.”

  “It happens.” Kaitlyn shrugged. “I’m going to have to be careful with that when I finally start giving music lessons.”

  “I can imagine,” I said, wondering if I could give music lessons. That was one of the things I’d been rude to Kaitlyn about, but now that I saw it as a way to make money… I could definitely teach some kid to play the violin if I wanted to. And it wasn’t like these kids were going to be the next Itzhak Perlman or Lindsey Stirling either.

  “Well, I’ve gotta head out,” I said. “I’m meeting Margie.”

  “Oh?” Kaitlyn raised an eyebrow. “For a date?”

  I felt myself blush, heat flooding my face. “I… Yeah, it’s a date.”

  Kaitlyn pumped her fist in the air. “Yeah! It’s finally happening.”

  “What’s finally happening?” I asked, eyes narrowed.

  “You and Margie are becoming a thing. Emily and I were practically placing bets on it.” She grinned.

  I laughed. “Yeah, it’s a thing. A very small thing, right now.”

  “Well, have fun,” said Kaitlyn.

  “I will. See you later.”

  I picked up my violin case and left practice, pushing the door open and walking out onto campus. Even though Kaitlyn wasn’t a student, we sometimes used some of the practice rooms in the music department. No one seemed to mind.

  My violin was heavy, so I hoisted the case over my shoulder, wearing it sort of like a backpack. I loved this thing. I felt like my approach to making music was a little more clinical than most, but that was because it hadn’t come easy to me.

  That was partially why I liked playing with Kaitlyn. It gave me a chance to improvise and exercise my spontaneity, instead of playing a predetermined song as accurately as possible.

  My fingers still smelled strongly of rosin—the resin used to condition my horsehair bow. I wiped them on my jeans and walked onto the main road, toward my house. I’d told Margie I’d meet her at her place, then walk to the Riverwalk together.

  I was excited for my date with Margie—I’d been the one to ask, since I didn’t think she could—but I was bummed that I had to put the music group on hold. It was probably for the best, though. If my relationship with Margie kept developing, then I really wasn’t going to have enough time for everything in my life.

  And I wanted my relationship with Margie to blossom. I’d missed liking someone, thinking about them. The whole dance when you were starting to date someone was so much fun, and it brought a joy to my life that I’d forgotten to indulge, thanks to how hectic my life was right now.

  I walked into my apartment, went up to my room, and put my violin down finally, taking a moment to massage my shoulder. Then I went to my closet and picked out nicer clothes, more suitable for a date. I styled my hair and made sure my appearance was perfect.

  And then I set out.

  We were supposed to be getting dinner at Malabar, a fancy Indian restaurant. Afterward, we planned to just hang out at the Riverwalk. There were a number of little shops there, and it was just nice to walk around. I imagined we’d be doing a lot of talking, mostly.

  I didn’t want to bike, because I didn’t want to get all sweaty, but I didn’t have a better way to get there. I hopped on and rode at a leisurely pace. Rosebridge was, thankfully, very bike friendly because of the huge student population, and you didn’t really even need a car.

  There were a lot of bike racks at the Riverwalk, and I locked mine up and walked toward the restaurant. There was a small sitting area around a fountain here, so I sat and waited.

  And waited.

  And waited some more.

  After half an hour had passed, I decided to just call Margie. The phone rang and rang, but she didn’t pick up, so I sent her a text message asking what was up.

  This wasn’t like Margie. She struck me as someone conscientious and reliable. Maybe she wasn’t into me after all. Maybe she was backing out because she was too scared of what dating me would mean for her sexuality. It certainly wouldn’t be unusual.

  I hoped she hadn’t run into some kind of emergency. Maybe she’d just overslept. That was the best possible answer, since I didn’t want there to be anything wrong with Margie’s life or our relationship.

  After another fifteen minutes, she didn’t show up or text back. I tried calling again to no avail, so I texted her to let her know I was going home.

  And then I got my bike and started pedaling back, disappointed, anxious, and irritated. I’d gotten so much work done ahead of time so I could clear space for this date. Why hadn’t Margie bothered to show up?

  I had some work I could catch up on, so after a quick pasta dinner, I started my études, enjoying the familiar ritual of tuning my violin, applying rosin to the bow, and setting up the shoulder rest. Within minutes, I was engrossed in the repetitive sound of the études, though Margie’s absence still worried me.

  An hour later, I got a call back. I immediately grabbed my phone and swiped to pick up, wondering what the hell had happened.

  “Hey,” said Margie, her voice tight and reserved. “I’m so, so sorry I didn’t show up or call you or anything.”

  “Yeah, what happened?” I asked, now mostly relieved to hear that Margie was actually okay. But as my relief faded, anger took its place.

  “Um, my roommate had an emergency,” she said.

  “And you didn’t think to text me?” I asked coldly.

  “It was an emergency!” she protested. “Anyway, I’m outside your house.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, Miriam gave me your address.”

  “When did you talk to Miriam?”

  “Girl, just let me in,” she said.

  I hung up and walked to the door, opening it to find Margie outside with a grocery bag. She had puppy dog eyes on, and I found myself warming up. But I was still irritated. Roommate emergency sounded like a made up excuse.

  “Well, is your roommate okay now?”

  “Yeah, we managed to get her to the ER.”

  “So it was really serious then,” I said.

  “Yeah. Really serious. I feel really, really bad for standing you up,” she said, walking in. “I should have texted.”

  “It’s okay,” I said, sighing and wrapping an arm around her shoulder to squeeze her tightly. “I’m just glad you weren’t like, kidnapped or something.”

  “I brought ice cream,” said Margie, holding up the grocery bag. “I figured it was too late for dinner…”

  “That’s really kind of you,” I said. “Maybe we can have an ice cream and Netflix date instead.”

  Margie smiled tentatively, and I could tell she was worried she’d really made me mad. She probably didn’t want to make me mad since I was the first friend she’d made in so long. She didn’t want to ruin it.

  And I didn’t want to ruin it either. As irritated as I had been earlier, Margie did have an actual emergency to respond to. I couldn’t begrudge her helping her roommate.

  “So, you live alone?” asked Margie, looking around my apartment. “Nice place.”

  “Yeah, it’s small, but it’s affordable, and I like it. I kind of have to live alone because night is sometimes the only time I have to practice my violin. And even then, I bother the neighbors,” I said, taking the grocery bag from her and putting the ice cream in the freezer. “Actually, I was just doing my études. You want the tour?”

  “Sure,” said Margie, following me into my bedroom.

  I started putting my violin away, while Margie sat on my bed and looked around. I had a lot of decorati
ons—art prints, stacks of books, interesting textiles. Most of it had been pinched from my parents’ house, since they had a lot of things they never used.

  “This is really nice,” said Margie. “It’s like a real adult lives here and not a college student.”

  “Thanks,” I said, finally zipping up the violin case and putting it away, sliding it under the bed. I stood up and walked to the door, and Margie followed.

  I cleared some cushions and jackets from the couch in the living room and we sat down.

  “So… what exactly happened with your roommate?” I asked.

  “I don’t know what it was,” she admitted. “Her knee sort of just seized up and became incredibly painful and she couldn’t walk. I had to drive her to the ER in her car, and then her girlfriend came to stay with her.”

  “That sounds scary. Hopefully it’s okay.”

  Margie looked at her phone, which she’d placed face up on the coffee table. “Marnie said she’d text me when they got word from the doctors.”

  “Well, it’s good that you were a good roommate,” I said. “You have to help take care of the people you live with.”

  “Yeah. And honestly, I care about her. I didn’t think we’d be close when we moved in together, but we’re getting there.”

  I was a little relieved to hear that. It was good news that she was making friends outside of my social circle.

  “That’s awesome,” I said, sliding my laptop onto my lap and opening it. “So, do you want to watch something and eat ice cream?”

  She grinned. “Sure.”

  “Here, find something good,” I said, handing her my computer, which was logged into Netflix. I retrieved the ice cream tub and two spoons from the kitchen.

  “What’s this one,” she asked, indicating one of the shows on my recently watched list.

  “Oh, that? It’s a drama-comedy about queer teenagers in England…” I said, trailing off.

  “Is it good?”

  “Yeah, it’s super good,” I said.

  “Let’s watch this, then,” said Margie, clicking on it. The next episode loaded and started playing, and I opened the ice cream and handed her a spoon.

  We were sitting pretty far on the couch, but we had to sit closer together to share the ice cream. I could feel the heat from her body and I desperately wanted to be closer, but I didn’t want to spook her.

  That was all right, though. I had time.

  10

  MARGIE

  T he anxiety I felt when I looked at my phone and saw the missed calls from Brianne had been awful. The whole evening had been horribly stressful. And the prospect of seeing Brianne again had been stressful too, but I’d done it anyway because I felt like I owed her—and I wanted to see her.

  Cass and I had a friendly rapport, but today’s incident had brought our relationship to a new level—a level at which we could really be friends.

  I’d been studying up in my room, trying to get work done before the date, when Cass had called me, distraught and urgent, from the kitchen. Her scream had startled me and I raced down the stairs to find her lying on the floor clutching her knee.

  She’d told me it had suddenly seized up and started hurting terribly. After a moment of discussion, we decided she had to go to the ER. Since it was so close and Rosebridge had no traffic, we took her car. I was rusty at driving, but I managed, even with poor Cass moaning in the back seat.

  I helped her check in and sat with her, and I hadn’t even thought to look at my phone. Eventually, Marnie came to stay with Cass, so I left in Cass’s car.

  And that was when I realized I’d completely forgotten about the date, in the chaos. I stopped at the store to get ice cream, left the car at our house, and hightailed it to Brianne’s. I was glad she wasn’t too mad. It really had been a freak occurrence.

  And now I was here, not in that fancy restaurant, where we would be a comfortable distance from each other, but in Brianne’s apartment, on her couch. With no one else around, and no roommate who was going to show up later.

  It kind of seemed like anything could happen, and truth be told, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to happen. More kissing would be nice, but in the privacy of Brianne’s house, it seemed like things could go farther. I couldn’t decide if I wanted it or not. Or rather, I did want it, because goodness knows I’d fantasized so much, but the thought of acting upon those fantasies terrified me.

  It felt like it would open a whole can of worms I wasn’t used to addressing. But then again, I’d already opened that can. The worms were wiggling out everywhere.

  “You okay?” asked Brianne.

  “Oh, yeah,” I said, realizing I’d been spacing out into my thoughts. “I guess it’s just been a crazy day.”

  “I understand,” said Brianne, holding the ice cream out to me. “Here, have more.”

  The ice cream was good, and so was Brianne’s company, but I couldn’t get into the TV show we were watching. It looked interesting, but my brain was buzzing too much and I felt restless, like I wanted to talk, like I had all these thoughts inside me that needed to be said.

  I stuck it out until the episode ended. “Sorry I’ve been so spacey,” I said. “I’ve just had so much to think about, I guess.”

  “Yeah. I mean, when I met you, you didn’t even think you were into women,” said Brianne carefully.

  “Exactly. It’s just a lot, you know? And a lot of people figure it out when they’re in high school, but the older you get, the weirder it is,” I said.

  “You’re not the only one,” said Brianne. “Plenty of people learn stuff about themselves only in college, or later.”

  “Yeah.” I sighed. “I just… So much in my life has changed recently, and I don’t know how to handle it.”

  Brianne put a comforting arm around me, her hand on my shoulder. It made me feel warm and comfortable, but it also made me a little nervous.

  The ice cream was sitting on the table; we’d managed to polish off the pint. A couple of drops were slowly trickling down the outside of the container.

  I turned to Brianne, finding myself nestling a little closer to her. I couldn’t help it; it was like I was magnetically attracted to her. I’d never been this attracted to anyone before in my life.

  “Do you wanna make out?” she asked.

  I blinked at her. “Y-yeah.”

  That was all the invitation she needed. Brianne pressed her lips to mine and I immediately felt a burst of warmth flooding through me, lighting all my nerves up. And because I’d spent so much mental energy hyping up my next encounter with Brianne, my brain was inundated with images from my fantasies… My body responded, getting wetter, and I knew I wanted to go farther than just making out.

  Even though making out was really fun. Brianne’s tongue danced with mine expertly, and I finally understood how kissing was like a conversation with the other person. It was a form of communication, almost, and a way to flirt even further.

  Her hands were warm, one resting on my shoulder and another creeping down toward my waist. I put a hand on her face, feeling the smooth skin of her jaw, and my other hand on her arm. It just felt good to touch another person like this, in such an intimate way. I’d been craving it for so long.

  She pulled away from the kiss and looked at me intensely, her gray eyes dark. And then, without missing a beat, she started kissing my jaw and my neck, making me melt into a puddle in her arms.

  What was it about being kissed on the neck? It made me feel boneless, shivers running through every nerve in my body. I whimpered into the kiss, unable to resist expressing how good I felt.

  And I was pretty wet now, soaking through my panties, probably. I wanted to touch myself so badly, or I wanted her to touch me… I wondered if I should try taking my clothing off, to show it was okay. I knew she was being cautious with me, I could tell. She wasn’t moving farther than we had last time.

  So I pulled away and made to remove my shirt and bra. I was glad that was one area where I was more confident—I
did put in the effort to exercise and take care of myself, because I didn’t have that much else to do, and I was proud of what I’d achieved. It was certainly good preparation for this moment.

  Brianne paused to remove her clothes too, and I drank in her lean body, with a smattering of freckles, small, round breasts, and pink nipples that were stiff already.

  When we started kissing again, the sensations were even more intense with her hands on my bare skin. I felt more sensitive than I’d ever been, able to register every touch, every feeling. I could hear every breath of hers, every beat of her heart. I felt more alive than I could remember feeling in a long time.

  “God, you’re so… so sexy,” Brianne whispered.

  I blushed slightly. No one had ever called me sexy before. Not like that, in that reverent voice. It was intoxicating to know that I could be the object of someone’s desire.

  “Th-thanks,” I said awkwardly, unsure of how to respond.

  “You’re cute,” said Brianne, smirking.

  I could only look into her gray eyes, getting lost in them. They were beautiful.

  “Your… your eyes are pretty,” I blurted, blushing even more.

  Brianne chuckled, then pressed her lips to mine again.

  As she kissed me, her hand traveled further down, dangerously close to my crotch. I wanted her hands on me so bad, but we still had our pants on. I reached down to unzip my fly, fumbling with urgency. But soon enough, I’d freed myself of my pants, though we broke away so Brianne could help me shrug them off completely. And I helped her remove her pants, making short work of our underwear as well.

  Now we were completely naked with each other, and I was breathing heavily, my whole body electric. I had no idea what was going to happen next, and wanted to wait for Brianne’s lead.

  Good thing she knew how to proceed. She lowered her lips to my neck and started kissing, making her way down with a winding trail, using her tongue to deliver even more sensations that made me squirm.

  Brianne wasn’t that much taller than me, but somehow, she seemed bigger than me now, and I submitted to what she was doing, happy to go with the flow as she continued making me feel incredibly good.