“Don’t fangirl yet! Wait till I start singing, at least.” I bite back a laugh.
“This is too much for one night…”
My hands hover back over the keyboard. “The maracas, if you please.”
“I don’t remember there being any in this song.”
“They do the job.” I shrug. “Think of it as a remix.”
She grabs hold of the shakers and sighs. “The things I do for you…”
“I’ve never played for anyone except my parents, so be gentle with me,” I warn.
“I’ll be as gentle as you need, honey,” she murmurs.
I laugh, but my heart skips a beat.
“No distracting me! You just concentrate on shaking your maracas and worshipping my genius.”
“Oh yes, Donny… Let me worship you,” she whispers, pressing down on my arm.
Her sultry tone makes my jaw clench; I flex and unflex my fingers, trying to focus on them.
You are not fucking her on the family piano, Don. Get it together.
I want her so badly, though, it’s almost painful to have her this close.
I can’t do anything about it right now, but as soon as we hit that party, I plan on doing exactly what I need to do. She’s sending me more mixed signals than a broken traffic light, but no matter how well she plays the ice queen, I know we’ve got something real—and I know she feels it, too.
She shakes her maracas in my face, her thigh pressed warm and soft into mine. I clear my throat.Remind me why I’m doing this, again?
I launch into the first verse, and I’m just getting into the swing of it all, when Carrie cuts me off mid-riff.
“Hold up! ‘My baby don’t care for cars and races’? Yeah, that’s not gonna work for you. You love your cars—you need a girl who feels the same.”
“I’m flexi-curious.”
I pick back up where I left off, Carrie swiveling around to sit with her back to the piano, and now when I look up, my eyes meet hers. When she starts to sing in time with me, a smile spreads across my face.
Slowly but surely, the atmosphere is thawing, and for a fleeting moment in time, I forget that she’s still just a friend.
Once I hit the closing chord, I gaze into Carrie’s face, and I’m electric. She’s not staring me down, for once. She’s not slapping me down with her usual sideswipes. She seems open. Willing.
She’s the one for me—however long it takes for us to get there.
I lean into her just as I play the final note, and… applause breaks out behind us.
Are you fucking kidding me?
Carrie flings a maraca right into my temple as she springs to her feet.
Ouch!
I spin around to find my parents watching us from the doorway.
“I’d love to come hug you guys, but I’m seeing stars.” I pout at Carrie. “You promised you’d stop beating me.”
Carrie is still frozen in place. I get to my feet, slinging an arm over her shoulders.
