My feet move of their own accord when the chorus hits. It’s as if there’s this magnetic pull to the room. Her melodic voicesounds softer than when we sang together. I wonder if she’s going to do a different rendition of it. If not, then she’ll have to kick it up about ten notches for the second half of the song.
I reach the edge of the door, and thank fuck for this carpet or else Stevie would’ve stopped if she heard anyone in the building. It’s obvious why she’s here today at this time. The place is deserted, and the piano is one of the oldest on campus, hence people don’t use the room often. If she needs to be in this room to sing, then she still isn’t confident enough to do it in front of an audience, which makes me feel bad for the poor bastards who don’t get to hear her unique voice, and sad for Stevie, who still isn’t ready, even with Brad’s help.
Is his help enough?
The song’s third verse hits, and her voice gets fuller, more confident, knocking me out of my thoughts. Then, in the fourth verse, the high notes start to come in, and finally, the chorus again, and Stevie explodes. She hits every. Damn. Note. All of them coming from the depths of her fucking soul. As if she’s written it and feels every single emotion within the story it tells. Her confidence seems to have tripled since I last saw her sing.
Like my body has a mind of its own, I move my head to the doorway. Praying that her back will be toward me, I find Stevie facing the door while hitting the longest note in the song. Luckily for me, her eyes are closed, and instead of moving like I should, I remain in position, unable to take my focus off her. Stevie’s eyes remain shut through the outro, where she plays the final piano keys, and her shoulders relax. At that moment, I realize that I’ve been so still, my back is aching.
Jesus, this woman’s unbelievably talented.
Stevie’s head lolls down, and a wide grin spreads across her face. She laughs in disbelief. It’s soft and new.
Damn, my back hurts. Straightening to relieve some pain, my guitar case bumps the wall, and my roommate’s green eyes shoot up to meet mine, widening in horror.
Fuck me.
“Levi?” Her voice is back to its regular tone.
I smile, hoping she won’t be pissed. “Hey, Bambi.”
She clears her throat. “How long have you been standing there?”
My roommate isn’t mad, she looks terrified. So, I lie.
“A couple of seconds.” I shrug. “The building’s deserted and I heard someone playing piano, so I thought I’d be nosy and, well, here I am.”
She narrows her eyes and tilts her head. I can see that my lie wasn’t good enough.
“How long have youreallybeen standing there?” Her voice is still calm, but serious.
Running a hand through my hair that’s longer than I usually like it to be, I reply honestly. “A while.”
Stevie lets out a long breath and composes herself. Right as I think she’s going to grab her things and leave, she asks me a question instead.
“What did you think?”
My mouth opens, and I stutter. “W-what?”
She nods and speaks slower. “Was it good enough for the audition? I mean, come on, Levi. You’ve already heard me sing, but this was different. I thought I was alone.”
I can’t help the small flashback to the night we sang together and the two words I said to her. It seems like she remembers it at the same time because her face reddens and her breathing deepens before she looks away.
Shit, not now. I need to focus and give her my honest opinion.
“It was perfect. However, I wouldn’t use that particular piano for the audition. It’s a little too old.”
Her small laugh relieves some of the tension in both of our bodies.
“Don’t worry, I won’t be playing in front of anyone. They’ll have a pianist there.”
As she collects her things, I open my mouth to tell her that she should also practice in front of people now that the audition is so close. But as soon as she stands, she sways heavily, being forced to sit back on the bench.
“Fuck.” I drop my case on the floor and run to her. Kneeling beside Stevie, I take her delicate jaw and turn her to me. Her lips are slightly pale, and I can’t help the panic that rises in me.
“Stevie, are you with me? Are you going to have a seizure?”
Her eyes look hazy and tired. “Juice.” She lifts a finger to her backpack’s side pocket, and I grab the all-natural orange juice I’ve seen her carry around often.
