‘I’ll try to restrain myself.’
‘That’s very magnanimous of you,’ he says. He points at the piano stool. ‘Sit.’
‘You’re very bossy today.’
‘I’m the teacher. You’re going to have to get used to doing what I say.’
‘Fine. In this one particular situation.’
She can actually think of a couple of other situations where she might be okay with it, but she keeps those thoughts to herself.
With Lexi on the stool, he pushes her closer to it, like she weighs nothing. Which she definitely doesn’t. His breath grazes the back of her neck. She braces herself so that she doesn’t shiver.
‘Sit up,’ he tells her.
She thought she already was. Clearly her posture needs some work. She straightens her shoulders and her back.
‘Can you find middle C?’
She really wants to be able to say yes. She really wishes she had any idea what he is talking about. Lexi was always a good student at school, the one perpetually with her hand up. It feels disconcerting to be so clueless.
She shakes her head sadly. ‘Sorry.’
‘There’s no need to apologise.’
‘I know. But I’m British. It’s what we do in these kind of situations.’
‘And what kind of situations would those be?’
Lexi shrugs. There is no way she can define what is happening right now.
Sam is standing at the end of the piano, looking down at her, waiting for a response.
‘I want to be good at this,’ she tells him.
‘You’re a beginner,’ he reminds her, smiling. ‘By definition, you’re not going to be good at it yet. That’s kind of the whole deal.’
‘I feel vulnerable,’ Lexi confesses. She didn’t mean to say it out loud. But him: standing above her, the expert. Her: sitting here, waiting to be taught. Entirely at his mercy.
‘I’ll be gentle,’ he says. His tone is kind. There’s no hint of mockery in it. Lexi is taken aback by that. She swallows, hard.
‘Thank you,’ she says. ‘I appreciate that.’
‘Now, let’s find middle C.’
Sam shows Lexi how all along the keyboard there are groups of notes, patterns that repeat themselves, with two black ones and then three, over and over. That the first white one in each grouping is a C. That the fourth one of those Cs is the middle one. She pushes it down. It makes no sound.
‘You have to press it a little harder,’ he says. ‘You won’t break it, I promise. Try it with your thumb.’
She looks up at him. It’s making her weirdly nervous, him up there.
‘Would you feel better if I sat down?’
She’s thankful he’s read her thoughts, even if it’s a little odd.
‘Yeah, maybe.’
Lexi doesn’t know why she’s so nervous. Maybe it’s the bed in the corner. Maybe it’s all the talk of finding things and how to touch them. She shuffles along the piano stool. These things are easily big enough for two.
