Mano chuckled. “You’re thinking of a recorder. Different instrument.”
Ody flushed. “Oh.”
Mano positioned his fingers on the flute, eyes scanning the notes before he played. Ody sat at the edge of the couch, watching him. The sound was soft and controlled. Mano’s lower lip rested on the lip plate, the split from Kash’s punch still visible. His fingers moved with practiced ease. Ody’s eyes followed every movement, unable to look away.
After a minute, Mano paused to check his notebook.
“You play beautifully,” Ody said, the admiration clear in his voice.
Mano gave a small smile and returned his attention to the sheet.
“How long have you been playing the flute?”
“Since I was twelve.”
“Wow…” Ody leaned back, still watching him.
Mano lifted the flute again and played.
“This piece is beautiful,” Ody said when Mano stopped.
“It is.”
Ody tilted his head, studying him. “Still… I can’t get used to seeing you with a flute.”
Mano lowered the instrument a little. “Why?”
“I don’t know.” Ody smiled faintly. “You don’t seem like the type. No one would look at you and think, ‘That guy plays musical instruments.’”
Mano raised an eyebrow. “And what would they think?”
“I don’t know… ‘That guy does kickboxing or extreme sports.’”
Mano watched him carefully. “And where does this come from?”
“Your personality. And your build. The motorcycle fits you, for example.”
“But not music, huh?” Mano asked.
“No, that’s not what I mean,” Ody said quickly. “It’s amazing that you play music.” Even across the room, their eyes held. “And it’s nice that… even though you seem distant, you’re…” Before Ody could continue, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen. “It’s Anna. One sec.”
He stepped into the bedroom and shut the door halfway. “Hey, babe.”
Mano could hear only Ody’s side of the conversation now. Ody’s tone softened. “I’m good. Yeah.” There was a pause. “Uh… I’m actually with Mano. I’m hosting him.” Silence. “Kash hit him at the university today.”
Mano’s fingers stopped over the strings for half a second before he forced himself to keep tuning the guitar.
“Yeah. There was blood, but he’s better now.” A quieter stretch followed. “I can come see you in a couple of hours,” he said. “Or we can go out.”
Mano lowered his gaze at that, quick, barely noticeable, then looked back down at the guitar.
“Okay. Two hours. Kisses.”
Ody returned a moment later. Mano had already positioned the guitar, eyes fixed on the fretboard like nothing had happened.
“I’ll head out in a couple of hours. Is that okay?”
“You don’t need my permission,” Mano said, not looking up. “Go.”
