Page 111 of Only With You

I withdraw my hand from his and wave it around the museum, the sound of my voice softly echoing, and my heels click as I take a few steps away from him.

He looks thoughtful, like he wants to say something, but instead, his eyes roam over the art before they land back on me. “Breathtaking.”

“And this isn’t even all of it. Do you want me to show you where I play?”

Landon slips his hand in the pocket, pulls out a black case, and takes out his earbuds. “Sure.”

I hesitate for a moment and wonder if this will be too boring for him. He doesn’t look annoyed about leaving the club, but maybe he wanted to do something else. I didn’t think about asking him. I was too caught up in my own head.

“If this gets too boring or if you want to leave, we can. I’m sorry I never asked what you wanted to do. Or if you don’t want to be with me, that’s also okay, too. I promise you won’t hurt my feelings.”

It might hurt a little, but he’s not obligated to be with me.

“Is this where you want to be?”

“Honestly, yeah.”

“Then this is where I want to be.” The soft but gravelly tone of his voice momentarily steals the oxygen in the room, making it hard to breathe.

I didn’t drink, but I swear I feel a rhapsodic buzz. It warms my body and spreads tingles…so many tingles all over.

I don’t know what to say or how to act, so I tip my head in the direction of where I play. He walks beside me in silence, eyes wandering over the art until they settle on the black, sleek grand piano.

“This is where the magic happens.” I wave my hand over the piano for dramatic flair.

He softly chuckles. “Are you going to show me some of your magic?”

“You want me to play something for you?” I can’t contain my excitement, and don’t wait for him to say yes before I’m sitting down on the bench. I don’t even think about it before I pat the spot next to me.

He dubiously stares at it and I realize he’s asking if I’m sure because it’s not a long bench. It’s meant for one person to sit in, and considering we’re not the smallest people, it’ll be a tight fit.

“We’ll make it work.” I pat the bench again. “Sit, or are you afraid I’ll bite you?”

A wicked gleam shines in his eyes as he sits next to me. I can only imagine what he’s thinking because I’m thinking it, too.

We’re so close to each other, the side of my body is firmly pressed against his. Nothing, not even a gust of wind, could pass through us.

“How long have you been playing?” he asks, shifting the conversation, and I’m thankful for it because I’m thinking of a lot of unholy things.

“Does this mean we’re asking each other questions again?”

Maybe I’m pushing it, but I don’t want a repeat of what happened a few weeks ago. I’m certain we’re past that, but it’s hard reading him. Sometimes, I don’t know if I’m overstepping, because despite how innocent my questions are, it feels like I am.

“Yeah, we can. As long as you’re honest with me, I’ll be honest with you.”

There’s nothing I have to hide, so I nod. “Okay.” I raise my hands, pretending they’re a clapperboard. “Asking question, take two.” I clap my hands together.

He knocks his knee against mine, and when I glance up at him, he’s bearing the biggest smile known to date, getting his dimples to make a special appearance. Granted, it’s really not that big, but I’ve never seen his lips stretch this wide.

“I’ve been playing since I was four,” I answer.

He stares, impressed. “Four?”

“Yeah, my parents are big overachievers. My dad’s a neurosurgeon and my mom’s a celebrity stylist, so they have a lot of…expectations,” I explain as I fix my fingers on the keys and consider what song I want to play. “So piano lessons, violin lessons, modeling lessons, French lessons…all kinds of lessons. I know it’s a lot, but I had a lot of time on my hands and?—”

“You were a kid. Of course you had time on your hands. What else were you supposed to do?” There’s no judgment in his voice, but slight confusion.

“I swear I’m not trying to make it sound like it’s a bad thing. I really did enjoy some of those.” I look away, hating that I sound like I’m complaining. “I know that makes me sound?—”

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