Page 45 of Crescendo

“More, please,” she said after she pulled back from the kiss, and I was pretty sure she meant more chords, but more chords, more kissing her thinking about how she made music feel like a beautiful thing full of passion and joy again—I’d happily do it all.

∞∞∞

Melinda snorted.

“Oh, you’re down bad,” she said, folding her arms on the counter looking down the video call at me. I sighed.

“You think I don’t know? It’s going to be a problem at this rate.”

She grinned. “Not gonna lie, dude, kinda love this for you. You’ve been dating girls without really feeling much about it for ages now. I was starting to think you’d just give up on dating altogether.”

“You say that like I’m going to marry this woman. I’m still going to come back to LA and have to deal with dating evenworsebecause I’ll probably be hung up on damn Ella Hendrickson and dating anybody else will suck for atleasta year.” I leaned back on the piano bench—the music room was home, this little-upright-that-could suddenly my favorite more than any concert grand I’d ever touched. I’d been sitting here for a minute working on my composition after Ella had gotten snatched away by her friends for dinner, and I tried to pretend I wasn’t just sitting around pouting waiting for them to give her back.

It had been a minute before I realized I still owed Melinda a call ever since I hung up on her mid-call to fuck my roommate. She was a good friend.

“Hey, maybe you can convince her to come to LA. Show her sunshine. Once she gets over the shock and fear at the strange burning orb in the sky, bet you she’ll love the beach.”

“They havesunlightin London, you know, dumbass. Not… as much. But some!” I turned back to the piano, tinkling the keys softly. This was something Melinda and I did a lot, catch up and chat over me dabbling on the piano. Helped me clear creative blocks, playing without overthinking it, and the music helped give her some inspiration for dramatic shots, too. I’d been so stuck on my music that we hadn’t done this in ages, and it was like coming home to finally be back, even thousands of miles away. “Look, I just met this girl a week ago. Ireallylike her, but I’m not going to start thinking about either of us uprooting our entire lives for the other. She’s a doctor, working here in London. It’s her home.”

“LA can always use more doctors.”

“You don’t listen,” I laughed. She grinned, drinking her mimosa before she set it down and kicked back in her seat.

“Pot calling the kettle black, and all that. Look, I’m not saying start thinking about moving to London or her moving to LA, I’m saying stop thinking about how you can’t. That’s been the answer to a lot of your problems, hasn’t it? Stop thinking so damn much.”

“Ah…” Judging by the way the music flowed right now—and how easily it had flowed when it was me and Ella earlier—she was probably onto something. “Maybe,” I conceded finally. “How are things with you? We didn’t finish our conversation last night.”

“Yeah, I fucking wonder why. But yeah, I’m doing all right. I’m up to my knees in administrative bullshit right now instead of real work, and it’s boring me to tears. Wish I had some cute person to come interrupt my phone calls for hot sex. Just without cellos involved.”

“What happened to that girl you were talking to?”

She grumbled. “Turns out she’s kinda boring.”

“Ah.”

“I signed up for this speed-dating thing later today, though, so maybe I’ll catch some hottie there.”

“If you do, let me know. If you find any time between them interrupting your phone calls for hot sex.”

“Dude, I haven’t gotten laid in so long. I’m afraid it doesn’t work anymore.”

“I’m sure your equipment is still functioning fine. If it’s not, go see a doctor.”

“You’ve got one over there. Bring her to LA.”

“She’s not a gynecologist, Melinda.”

“Thank god. Can you imagine? I could never get with a gynecologist. I’d be like… you’re evaluating my pussy with a rubric and I know it, stop it.”

“From the outside, seems like you could never get with anyone.”

“Dude. Fuck you. Also, this song is a vibe. It sounds familiar. From something?”

“It’s a bit similar to theHome at Lastmotif fromThe Finders.I’m just derivative of myself at this point,” I laughed, but I did feel lighter about it. It kind ofwasa vibe. It was just…

“Isn’t all art just derivative of other art and it’s just stealing all the way down?”

“You might be right,” I said quietly. “Hm.”

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