A Crowded Place

Chapter 11: The practice room

Jacob was knocking on the door to my practise room.

A bunch of obscenities shot through my head. Dammit. What should I do? I thought.

Not opening the door would be a dumb move. He knew someone was practising in that room; if they didn't open the door it would be too suspicious. But then again, I dreaded talking to him and having to deal with his egotistic and arrogant personality.

After a few more painstaking seconds, I figured that I should just open the door and talk to him as if I had never known him before. I mean, that's what I told him to do last time, right? "Pretend like we'd never met," I'd said to him bitterly. I hoped that that wasn't too much to ask from him.

I tiptoed to the door, violin and bow clutched tightly in my hand. I turned the door handle.

'Hi,' I said timidly, avoiding eye contact by not looking up at his face. He seemed to tower over me. Under different circumstances, I might've felt threatened or confronted, but here, I stayed strong and stood my ground. 'Small but mighty', Alana would've joked.

'Woah, Liv!' He said, sounding sincerely surprised. 'I heard someone practising and I stood outside for a better listen. I didn't know it was you,' He continued, regaining his composure. I blushed but stayed silent - I didn't even know why he made me so anxious and unsettled. 'So, uh-' he cleared his throat, 'that was...pretty good. It was really good.'

'Thanks,' my reply was clipped. There was a moment of silence which seemed to stretch on forever, before I plucked up the courage to say: 'That's the piece I'm playing for the upcoming talent show. Are you performing?'

'Woah, woah, woah. You're playing in the talent show? Damn. I thought I wasn't up against any competition,' he looked genuinely surprised. 'And, like, I know I've heard you play a bit of Bach before, but what I'd just heard? I didn't know you could play that.'

Jacob had a faraway look in his eyes all of a sudden, like he was trying to travel back in time to a few minutes ago and re-hear what he had heard me play. 'That Wieniawski' - I cocked an eyebrow: he knew that piece? A man of culture, I see? - '...was so fiery and brilliant. You really are somethin', huh?'

'You bet,' I smirked, trying to conceal a wam feeling inside. I felt some of my anger toward Jacob dissipating, as I realised that he too was passionate about music. But not so fast, Liv, I thought to myself, don't let down your guard so quickly. 'What are you playing for the talent show?' I asked.

'It's the Rhapsody for Alto Sax by Debussy,' he answered enthusiastically, 'One of my favourite pieces for saxophone.'

I nodded; that piece was infamous for its difficulty. 'Well - I hope you can pull it off. Good luck,' I wished him sincerely. He smiled, then stepped closer towards me. He was so close I could feel his breath against my arm, tingling and delicate, despite his muscular frame.

'Since I got to hear your piece, maybe you'd like to hear mine? I hope I don't destroy your confidence though,' Jacob smirked.

There's his cockiness again, I sighed inwardly. 'I really don't think I have time, I've got to-'

'Please, I just want you to hear it,' he implored, but it almost sounded like a command. I stared into his cool, blue eyes. Frankly, I did want to hear his playing, just to see if he was as good as he claimed to be. Maybe, just maybe, if he messed up in front of me, it would teach him to be less self-absorbed and egotistic.

Those were my thoughts, as my mouth blurted out the words: 'Fine, just- hurry up.'

I stalked back into my practice room, Jacob following uncomfortably close behind. His breath tickled the back of my neck. That was the problem with the practice rooms here - they were way too small. I couldn't fathom Jacob and I sitting cooped-up together in the same tiny room. But there we were, all my previous hatred toward him snuffed out like a candle by my curiosity.

'There isn't much room in here, so please don't bash my head off with that shiny golden club of yours while you play.' I told him matter-of-factly.

'Only if you promise not to gouge my eye out with that sword-like bow of yours,' he replied without hesitation. I'd usually consider myself witty, but compared to him, I wasn't so sure.

I tried to suppress my disbelieving laughter, but a sound escaped through my lips and lingered in the air. I covered my mouth in embarrassment. Jacob looked up from unpacking his saxophone, an eyebrow raised at me in skepticism and a teasing concern. I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't stop myself grinning like an idiot.

So this was going to be more than a battle of instruments: it was also going to be a battle of wits.