‘Of course you do.’
‘I see an empty row with our names on it,’ I say brightly, leading Alice by the hand and hoping everyone else follows. ‘Better move quick before someone steals it!’
Almost all the rows are empty but that doesn’t feel like something worth mentioning.
‘Those two need to bang it out or something,’ Alice mutters as we make our way down the left-side aisle. ‘Oli really has taken against your boy.’
‘Notmy boy. Ethan rubs people up the wrong way, it’s not Oliver’s fault.’
‘Please let the record show I did not say he could rub me the wrong way if he wanted.’
‘Gold star for you. Such restraint.’
She squeezes her eyes shut and gives me a cheesy grin. ‘While I’m in your good books, can I ask for a favour? I got my schedule mixed up and took a shift at Members tomorrow night. Any chance you could cover for me?’
I should say no. I should concentrate on work. But friends help friends out when they need them.
‘Sure thing. Seven until close?’
She nods and plants a huge kiss on my cheek. ‘You’re the best, thank you, and you know I can always cover for you if you need it.’
‘Got it,’ I tell her, even though I know in my heart I would never ask. I hate to be a burden.
Alice shuffles down the row and I follow, Oliver behind me, Jenna and Michael bringing up the rear. Ethan has disappeared.
‘I’m going to run out to the loo before it starts,’ Alice hisses in my ear. ‘Safety wee. Do you need to go?’
‘No.’
I don’t know what I need. I am no longer in charge of my senses as Oliver settles into the seat beside me, crossing his long legs at the knee. He smells just like he did that night outside the bar when I wore his jacket. When my eyes skirt over in his direction, I can see him tapping his fingers against his thigh, nails clipped short, and his foot bouncing up and down impatiently. Is it hot in here or is it just me? The orchestra is tuning up while I stare blankly ahead, my mouth too dry, my tongue too large. Every time I think I’ve gotten used to talking to him, I am wrong. There are a million obvious things we could chat about, our classes, his music, the bop on Saturday, it doesn’t have to be that deep, but every time I try to formulate a question, it sounds so stupid in my own head, I can’t get the words out.
‘They’re not bad musicians,’ Oliver leans over to say into my ear, sending a storm of shivers sparkling down my spine. ‘Their problem is a lack of inspiration. Bryn’s a brilliant violinist but every time I try to get him to try something new, he won’t have any of it. He would’ve made a fantastic bassist.’
As if he heard his name, Bryn raises his bow in our general direction from his seat on the end of the row of violinists. Overhearing would be impossible in this space. The Goldbeck is so grand with its high ceiling, rows of velvet-covered chairs and impressive stage. The building has been here for more than two hundred years butthe inside has clearly had a makeover since then. On the stage, Bryn stands to allow another violinist by, a girl I recognize from the junior year abroad welcome meeting. He hasn’t mentioned an American in the orchestra but Bryn rarely offers information that isn’t requested. He’s very sweet but so shy, the opposite of the rest of his friends. When he does decide to say something, I always pay attention. One thing I’ve learned about him, Bryn isn’t the sort of person who speaks just for the sake of it. The girl, Kennedy, I think, gives him a filthy look as she takes the seat next to his. Looks like they aren’t exactly besties. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t mentioned her.
‘I didn’t miss anything, did I?’
Ethan flops into Alice’s vacant seat on my right side, shuffling around to get comfortable.
‘Have they started yet?’ Oliver returns. ‘No, obviously not.’
‘That’s Alice’s seat,’ I say, quiet but urgent. ‘She went to the bathroom.’
‘And now she’s outside, talking to some guy. She can sit next to me, there’s a ton of seats, Mia.’
The lights in the auditorium dim as the conductor walks onto the stage, the handful of people sitting in front of us clapping as he takes a bow.
‘And so it begins,’ Michael intones, two seats down.
Stuck between Ethan and Oliver, I shrink down into my seat, squeezing my legs together to avoid touching either one. Not an easy task as Ethan struggles to keep his long legs carefully constrained in the small amount of space in front of him and Oliver switches his crossed legs, his right thigh pressing against mine. My skin burns through the thin fabric of my skirt, a vintage floral maxi that buttons all the way down the front. I’d left it unbuttoned frommid-thigh down which felt fine when I left my room earlier, but now I feel completely naked.
Every violinist except for Bryn starts to play, slowly at first, and even though I don’t know much about this kind of music, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. The pace starts to pick up, other instruments joining in, until everyone else stops and it’s just Bryn, just for a moment, before the rest of the orchestra joins in, backing him beautifully. Ethan looks like he’s enjoying it too, sitting forward to lean over the seat in front. The corners of his mouth quirk upwards in a soft smile, head bobbing in time with the music. He turns back to me and I cut my eyes away, as though I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t. Settling back in his seat, he leans in towards me, brushes my hair back over my shoulder and cups his hand around my ear. As Bryn continues to play, eyes closed, lost in the music on stage, I realize I’m shaking.
‘He’s good,’ Ethan whispers excitedly. ‘Really good.’
A nod is the best I can do in response as Ethan breaks away, stretching out both of his arms along the backs of the chairs on either side of him. The empty seat saved for Alice, and mine. His fingers curl around my chair, finding the top of my arm and lightly grazing the skin. Instant goosebumps. On my other side, Oliver’s head jerks around and sees Ethan’s hand, barely an inch away from his own shoulder. He turns back to the stage, but the set of his jaw has hardened, and it feels as though I’m sitting next to a statue. I have no idea what to do. Demanding Ethan move his arm would be a total overreaction. He’s a tall guy, he’s stretching, it’s no big deal. If I say anything, it turns nothing into something. But if I don’t say anything, Oliver might get the wrong idea.
The music swells on stage and just as I’m about to tell Ethan to move his damn arm, Oliver’s hand shifts, hovering over my thigh before settling just above my knee. My throat tightens, my mouth hangs open and I am so incredibly aware of my entire body, I freeze up completely. I’m barely breathing, so worried that if I make any kind of move whatsoever, he’ll take his hand away. And he can’t. Ever. I’d rather stay in this seat, watching this orchestra for the rest of my life. There’s no way to mistake this. Guys don’t touch their female friends’ legs like this. Do they? No, they definitely don’t. This is not something I’m imagining or fantasizing about, this is something that is happening, right now, out in the real world where people can see. People we know. Oh God, is Michael looking? Is Jenna? I can’t decide if I’m thrilled or embarrassed. I do know I’m glad Alice isn’t here to comment. I don’t want to know what Ethan is thinking.
