Saving Laurel

4. The Piano Man

Laurel Gilroy

The fabric of my shirt is soft between my fingers, I run the pad of my thumb along my bicep pinching a fold of skin against my curled up index finger. The action has become subconscious and I don't even realize what I'm doing until a sharp sting radiates through my tender flesh. But even then I don't release it immediately.

It isn't until my phone vibrates in my pocket that my thoughts come back to the present, to exactly what I'm doing and I let go. But feeling the remnants of my nerves screaming out in agony settles me slightly and I turn my focus on my lunch.

Biting into the sandwich my dad made for me I try not to stare at Wes Thompson but he's directly in front of me and there's something that keeps drawing my attention to him. Whatever it is, I'm thankful his back is to me.

There's a conversation flying around the table he sits at, I'm too far away to hear it but I watch them all, trying to place the dynamic that exists within their social group. They're a weird group of people.

My phone vibrates in my pocket again, stealing my attention and I pluck it out, eyebrows knit as I stare at the text.

Molly: Mason asked me how you are

Molly: what nerve

The half chewed sandwich lodges in my throat, sending me into a coughing fit, eyes watering, breathing restricted and I fumble for my water to flush it down.

There's some girls at a table nearby and they all turn to look at me as I guzzle water and cough. Water dribbles down my chin and I wipe at it hastily, avoiding the stares of the girls nearby.

Don't mind me, I'm just choking.

I text Molly back.

Me: what'd you say?

I don't even know if I want to know. She texts back instantly but just as I look down to read the text my focus gets redirected to Wes's table. 

My phone still clutched in my hand, screen lit up and open, I watch him stand, his jean clad back moving beneath the denim as he gathers his things. His friends all look at him, I imagine they're saying a flurry of "see ya laters" and then he stalks off into the lunchroom.

I watch him through the glass until he blends into the crowd through the tinted windows before I shift my gaze back to my phone.

Molly: to get lost duh

Molly is the only person that is close to knowing all that Mason is. All that he can be. She knows his good side like only a younger sister can. The side that's tender and sweet. And she knows his bad side, impatient and demanding.

But she doesn't know all the things he was in between.

And I miss those things. Most of them anyway.

The prospect that he's thinking of me ignites this need deep within me, sparking hope and desire and my heart starts to race off in my chest.

Me: tell him I said hi

I send it trying to tame my racing thoughts, gathering up my trash and leaving the sanctuary of the tree. Heading for music early, I walk the halls with my head down trying to mask the smile on my face.

Reaching the doors of the music room a few short minutes later, the sound of the piano sings through the cement walls. A melody I recognize but can't place.

Hesitating outside the door, my fingers clutched around the handle, I'm not sure if I should go in or not. If I'll be interrupting whoever is playing. If they'll stop and want to talk.

But as the melody blends into a new one without a pause, I decide standing outside in the hallway is stranger than going in. I can always just pretend I'm riveted by something on my phone if whoever is in there wants to talk.

I pretend not to even notice the person sitting at the piano, his back to me as I enter. He's discarded his jean jacket, a striped shirt on underneath. The muscles in his arms dancing beneath his skin as he moves to the music he creates. His hair is tousled, carefree and reckless like I bet he is. Like all bad boys seem to be.

Taking a seat in the same spot I sat in yesterday, I allow myself to watch him for a moment. His eyes closed, fingers dancing across the keys. His movements are fluid, effortless, graceful something that seems so polar opposite to how he looks. From the curse words I've heard him shout, loud and angry into the air.

The song slows as the ending nears but the emotion that rings through the air hangs around me, heavy like a cloak, causing memories to pop in and out of my head until the final note runs out. But Wes doesn't leave it time to fall completely silent, as he makes the piano sing another song.

Everything about him seems relaxed, the gentle curve of his fingers across the keys, the swaying of his body, the relaxed line of his jaw. But then he jerks his head to the side, all the muscles in his neck contracting his shoulder tensing.

I'm waiting for an outburst of anger, for a swear word, for him to stop playing. But all he does is open his eyes, watching his hands for a moment before he must feel me watching him because he lifts his head and his eyes meet mine.

His face is neutral as he regards me, I think about looking away but there's something about him, his eyes as they look at me. It feels so incredibly familiar but thrilling. Like he knows the old me, the old Laurel, the one that wasn't full of imperfections and mistakes.

He plays easily, like it's the equivalent to breathing. Our eyes locked, he seems completely unfazed under my gaze and I feel myself growing uneasy. He's confident, clearly, which probably means he's arrogant too because those two things always seem to run hand in hand in guys like him.

And Mason.

But just when I think I'm going to break, Wes looks away. He's intriguing, whoever he is. And if it wasn't for Mason, I'd considering getting to know him. Maybe take another spin with the devil. But Mason ruined me.

I'm nothing without him.

I finally know that now.

                             —————————

Okay, here's the deal.

My weeks been rough. I've seriously contemplated postponing this story but I've decided not too, you're welcome. But in the meantime, bare with me.

There's a handful of you that like to chat, I'm still around, I'm still reading what you're sending me but I'm having a hell of a time focusing my thoughts on anything other than what's been going on in my personal life. I'm not ignoring you all. I just can't find words. I'm hoping as the days past and I get farther away from everything and settle into a new norm that things will come easily again. But currently I'm not accomplishing much.

Thank god we got 27 more completed chapters.