Page 65 of Counterpoint
Dominic nodded.
Well, he’d wanted truth. Adrian scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I like it well enough.” The words tasted a little dry, though he said it with humor.
There was something sad about Dominic’s smile, so Adrian bumped his hip. “I have other outlets for my passion.”
This time Dominic laughed and that lovely flush returned, so Adrian pulled him close and wrapped his arms around him until the tour guide appeared to lead them to the galleries with the musical instruments.
The tour, it turned out, was incredibly interesting. Each instrument type was explained and the subject was wrapped in history and musicology, though that was aimed more at Adrian’s level of understanding than Dominic’s, obviously. There must have been a few other musicians in their group, because some of them asked questions with terms Adrian didn’t know and the answers that followed, though in English, made no sense to him. From Dominic’s subtle nods, he understood perfectly, though.
This must have been what it was like for a non-programmer to stand in a sea of software engineers talking shop and code. Next holiday party, Adrian was going to take pains to converse about other topics with some of the non-techheads.
Or he needed to learn a thing or two about music—not just listen to it.
The best part, as he predicted, was Dominic’s joy. The way his eyes lit up when he studied the various guitars and mandolins and violins and...well, all the other stringed instrument names Adrian didn’t catch.
Dominic pulled him close to one case. “God, look at the inlay around the sound hole on this gittern. And the wood. This must have sounded glorious in its day.” He reached out and his fingers hovered just shy of the glass. “I once held one of Bo Diddley’s cigar-box guitars and that was a trip, but I’d saw off my right arm to play one of these, if there was one still in working condition.”
Adrian blinked a few times. “Wouldn’t you have a hard time playing it if you sawed off your arm?”
Dominic huffed a laugh and his eyes fucking twinkled. Adrian wanted to kiss him right then and there. “Well, thereisthat. I guess it stays on for now.”
“Probably for the best.”
Dominic stepped over to the next case. “I wonder if they ever let anyone play the ones in good condition. I mean, aside from on a tour like this.”
Someone coughed behind them, and they both turned. Their tour guide, Luke, a stunning black man with an easy professional smile, stood with his hands behind his back. “We do. Most often on these tours we have musicians who play as part of the demonstrations, but we do also invite professional musicians to record pieces with some of our less fragile instruments.”
Dominic practically vibrated. They’d been holding hands the entire time, and his grip on Adrian’s held the same intensity as the other lines of his body. “How do you choose? I mean, that has to be such an honor.”
“Well,Idon’t personally choose.” Luke placed a hand on his chest, and that smile became less professional and more flirtatious for a moment. “But I can give you the card to the curator’s office and you can inquire with them. Tell them I sent you.”
Adrian gave Dominic’s hand a little squeeze. Encouragement—at least for the getting the card part. He certainly admired the figure the tour guide cut, but Dominic washisdate. His boyfriend.
A thrill like sparks ran through Adrian. He still couldn’t get over that fact. He shouldn’t feel this giddy, but he couldn’t help it.
“Yeah, that would be fantastic,” Dominic said, and the tour guide slipped him a card, beamed a little too brightly, touched Dominic a little too long, then moved on.
And on the heels of giddiness, jealousy struck. Strange to have that tumble through him—herarelyfelt that kind of spike of covetousness. Or anger.
“He likes you,” Adrian murmured.
“Yeah, I know.” Dominic had this wry look. “But I’m seeing someone.”
Adrian’s heart flipped over in his chest. “Oh? Must be quite the guy if you’re passing up a museum guide who can get you an in with a rare instruments curator.”
Dominic pulled him close. “Are you fishing for compliments?”
“Who, me? Never.”
Dominic grinned and kissed his nose. “My guy’s quite the gentleman, yes.”
Another cough from Luke redirected them, and the tour moved on to the next section.
When they reached a more open gallery, there was a cloth-covered table with four instruments related to the modern guitar, and a woman waiting by it. She was dressed in all black, and her dark, wavy hair was piled up into a bun on her head.
Luke nodded to her. “Adelaida Mellado is here from Juilliard to demonstrate some of the instruments we discussed.”
As she picked each one up, the guide gave a little speech about the particular piece’s history, the maker, who owned it, where it had been played—all the interesting tidbits—then talked about the music that would be played.
