The first half of the program was a Bach concerto, performed by a full orchestra. She had heard of Bach, could have identified him as an important classical composer. Listening to Bach at the Boston Symphony Orchestra was for sure a thing she would have said she ought to try. She could have imagined a future that involved a lot of Bach.
But sitting here now, she didn’t think she liked it.
The concert hall had a high coffered ceiling and elaborate crystal chandeliers. The orchestra of formally dressed musicians with their interesting array of instruments was nice to look at, she guessed, and Adrian’s face had been nothing but respectfully intent from the moment the orchestra began to play, an attitude matched by most of the other people in the audience. He actually closed his eyes and sighed at one point as though overcome with emotion, like he’d just watched the series finale of something on the CW and his favorite character hadn’t died after all. He was having anexperience.
Caroline felt like she had the first time she hooked up with a guy. Nervous, uncertain, a little uncomfortable. Waiting patiently for an orgasm that had never come. What was the point of this? Was the Bach supposed to transport her? Was she supposed to feel different after having listened to it? Was she supposed to be counting the time, or noticing something about the musicians, or translating the melody into a story? Was it supposed to sound a lot different from when she was put on hold with the bank?
She’d have to read up on it later. Maybe she hadn’t prepared enough.
At the intermission, she wobbled out of the hall, braced gingerly with her hand on Adrian’s shoulder until they reached the lobby. She wasn’t used to wearing heels. Even though her new snakeskin-print slingbacks had a solid block heel and no platform, they were still three inches more of a heel than she’d worn since her last growth spurt. It put her a couple of inches over Adrian’s height, and she felt conspicuously oversize, awkward next to Adrian’s polished elegance. The shoes were giving her a blister on the back of her left foot too.
“You could have worn flats,” Adrian murmured without looking at her, crushing her hope that he somehow hadn’t noticed that she was balancing against him. He hadn’t flinched, but he was carefully looking elsewhere.
“I’ll get the hang of it soon,” Caroline said. “Just like learning to ride a bike.”
“There’s no reason not to be comfortable. You’re here for the music,” he said, even though she doubted he lounged around his apartment in a sharp navy suit and oxfords. Maybe he did though?
“I’m sure there are good and important reasons to wear high heels,” she said, dolefully eyeing the line for the ladies’ room and deciding to wait.
It had been a rhetorical statement at best, but Adrian answered anyway.
“It creates an optical illusion. Lengthens your legs.”
If her legs were in question, they were very much on display in the dress he’d picked out, and she’d thought they were one of her better features. Caroline gave Adrian a stern look, caught his eye when he glanced her way, and enjoyed the way his ears turned pink.
“Not that you need any help with that,” he said.
“Nice save,” she said dryly. “I thought you were supposed to be nice to me?”
They took another two steps.
“You look... pretty tonight,” he said, the words slowly shuffling out of his mouth. He closed his eyes and scrunched up his face as he realized how poorly he’d delivered that line.
Caroline laughed at his pained expression. “Wow, not that I’m some kind of connoisseur or anything, but you are really, hilariously bad at this line of work, did you know that?”
She thought she’d managed better customer service when delivering cherry limeades to cars full of surly soccer moms and their soccer spawn than Adrian was doling out at the symphony. She’d hired him to act like her boyfriend! It was a good thing she hadn’t hired him to stroke her ego—or anything else—because he was so obviously embarrassed to be out with her. His incompetence at his job was only making her feel better about her reaction to the music though.
She couldn’t hear Adrian’s answer because he turned his head away.
“Sorry, what was that?” she said, tugging on his arm.
He looked back at her, mouth twisting ruefully.
“I’ll get the hang of it soon,” he repeated her words. “I’m new to professional dating.” His gaze dipped down to her legs again, lingered for a moment, then flicked away. “You do look beautiful, really. I had to try not to stare. I just wasn’t sure you wanted to hear that from me.”
Caroline smirked at him in triumph, because even if he didn’t mean it, he sounded like he did.
Caroline had never been good at anything the firsttime she tried it. Some people had natural gifts, she appreciated that, but she had to work for everything. She wasn’t even sure she’d been any better at tennis than her sisters when she started playing, but she’d spent hours on the concrete court down the block—mostly for want of anything better to do—until people began to say she was very talented. Every time she noticed someone else struggling to learn something, the way Adrian was struggling to be nice to her, it made her feel better about all the things she didn’t yet know how to do.
They’d both get better at this. Soon she’d have appropriate reactions to the music, and he’d tell her she was pretty in a more believable way.
It was a relief to be standing up, even in the painful shoes. Caroline had bought the most expensive tickets, assuming they were the best ones, but that put them right in the middle of the center orchestra, four rows back from the stage. People were sitting all around her, and she’d felt claustrophobic even before the music started playing. It wasn’tsoloud that she couldn’t stand it, but the combination of strangers pressed around her, loud noise, and unfamiliar circumstances had made her close her eyes and press her teeth together in discomfort for the last movement of the first half. She didn’t know Adrian well, but he was the most familiar thing there, and she’d ended up crowded against him, breathing in the faint, warm scent of Lava soap every time he moved.
“What are they serving?” Caroline asked, eyeing the crowd of people around the refreshment stand.
“Champagne, usually,” Adrian said. “It’s not bad here.”
As that sounded like high praise in his mouth, she assumed he wanted some. It would probably help her relax too. She got in line.
