Page 44 of Muted

Susu may do the financials for the bar, but she’s also a performer and my partner, which means I have a right to dig. Turning away from them, I speak louder this time to draw her away from the distraction.

“Let’s get started and then I want to try another new song.” She immediately gives me her full attention, without eye contact once more. Biting my cheek in frustration, I dive into our warmup, and we run through it twice before the stiffness in my fingers eventually ease. As always, she plays perfectly.

We practice a couple of the more challenging songs, as well as the additional few that I added into our set list. Checking the time, I wish we had at least another hour before opening.

“Would you mind if we try this new one? I know we’re cutting it close, and I haven’t played it before, but when I skimmed through, it doesn’t show anything overly challenging. Lots of accidentals, though.”

Susu holds her hand out for the music in an almost ‘gimme’ motion. My lip ticks, wanting to smile, but I fight it. Digging into my bag, I pull out one copy and search for the second. My music is meticulously organized and tabbed, so when I don’t find it, I flip through the other tabs with frustration.

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, and see her drop her hand down when she realizes I have nothing to hand her. “Damn it. I must have left the two duet copies at home. This is the one that’s combined together.” Studying the music, I flip through the pages and come to an easy solution. “Why don’t you come over here and we’ll play it together? There are only a few parts where our arms would cross, but at least this way we can get an idea if it’ll even be a fit for us.”

I hear her swallow, then the shift of her body as she slowly stands from her bench and walks with soft steps around to where I’m sitting. “I’ll take the bottom for this one. If it goes well, we’ll want you to be on the side closest to the bar so they can see the both of us.”

Her nod is sharp as she wrings her hands. I shift over to the side, eyeing the bench, concerned there won’t be enough room. I’m not particularly wide, but I am a big dude and tend to spread out my thighs to get comfortable.

As she sits next to me, her spine ramrod straight, I look down at where her feet are hovering about six inches off the ground. Chuckling, I meet her eye when she glances at me and tease, “Guess I’ll have to do the pedal work since you can’t reach. How the hell have you managed to reach yours?”

She lifts her hand and holds her palm out horizontally and slowly lowers it down, then points to the knob on the side of the bench. “Huh. I didn’t realize it went that low. I suppose you’re used to playing with your arms up higher. Will this position be alright for you? We can wait if you’d like.”

As her head shakes, the soft lilac scent of her hair surrounds me. With a deep inhale, I do my best to ignore how rigid she is and set the music out. “Can you read it easily enough?” She nods quickly and sets her hands on the keys, fingertips lightly grazing the polished finish as if she’s testing the feel of my piano.

Blowing out a breath, I place my hands in my starting position, noting the length of our arms until our shoulders are pressed against one another. “Sorry,” I whisper to her as I stretch my leg to the right, my thigh coming in contact with her as well.

She doesn’t shy away, preventing me from a debate that was forming in my head about why we shouldn’t play this song right now. Personally,Idon’t mind the contact, but it’s never my intention to make her feel like her space is invaded by a stranger.

I feel like I’m practically on top of her, and when she drops her head back to look way the fuck up into my face, I’m shocked by the laughter dancing in her eyes. “What’s so funny?”

She waves a hand between us and then grins. My fucking God, her smile is so goddamn radiant, it literally takes my breath away. I run my gaze over her face and settle my sight on her lips where her teeth are peeking out. When her tongue peeks out, I rip my eyes away and focus back on the piano.

“It’s to you to start. Ready?” She pulls away from me slightly and turns toward the music.Why am I like this?I don’t have a problem attracting women. Getting laid has never been difficult, but the moment I open my mouth and let the words flow out, I come across as cold and insensitive, an asshole.

I sense Susu’s shoulders lift with her deep breath, then feel her body bounce slightly as if she’s counting the beat in her head. That’s actually really helpful because I would have started slightly slower than what she’s planning.

The moment she strikes the notes, it’s perfection. I’ve never met someone who can sight-read the way she does, the wayIdo. Our bodies rock together as we both put everything we’ve got into the music while also leaning toward each other to read the music. I glance at her face briefly, watching as she’s hyper focused on reading the music, her eyes never straying to where her fingers strike the keys.

As we proceed through the song, I keep hearing a note that’s off. It doesn’t sound right, and it’s dragging me out of the mood of the song.What note does she keep hitting?She’s made mistakes early on when something was bothering her, but if she’s undistracted, Susu Walston doesn’t make mistakes.

Another glance at her face, and I can see her scowling at the music. Maybe she’s catching her mistakes, and I won’t need to say anything. As we move into the next measure, the wrong note rings out fuckingagain. I open my mouth to tell her that she’s striking the wrong note when she rocks me to my core.

“F sharp.”

That’s all she says. Her voice is surprisingly sultry. With her small frame and almost elf-like features, I had expected the sound to be higher pitched, but it’s not. It’s throaty, slightly raspy, and in the range of an alto’s voice. The shock of hearing her speak halts our playing, and I stare down at her, at a complete loss of words.

The only thing I can stutter out is, “Wh-What?”

Her long, exasperate sigh surprises me again. She points at the measure we just played, atmypart, and repeats herself. “F sharp.”Jesus Christ. Is this how I’ll get her to talk to me?

“You just spoke to me,” I point out the obvious. Her lips press together, and she looks away from me. It’s like she tugs away this full feeling from my stomach and I’m left starving when I lose her focus.

Susu ignores me, removing her finger from the key, and waits until I move past the life-altering moment of hearing her. “Why did you speak?” I ask, entirely too curious about it and uninterested in what we had been doing.

This time, when she looks at me, she frowns and shoves her finger back at the note written on the paper. Her actions draw my eyes to the music, and I run them over the notes. “That’s what I played.” I don’t make mistakes.Ever.

She taps the note again and then swipes her hand toward the piano, indicating I should play it again. Setting her hands back on the keys, she leads me into the measure, and I quickly join her. Again, the note is wrong, and she wrenches her hands away, stopping the music, jabbing the paper again.

“F sharp, Vance!”

Well, now I’m just pissed. I growl in irritation and, without waiting for her, play the measure again and…Fuck me, I’m missing my accidental f sharp.

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