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I feel like it’s mandatory that every kid take piano lessons at some point in their childhood, right? Well, I did at least. Then when I was 14 I begged my parents to let me quit since there were more important things I wanted to do with my life, like daydream about boys and be self conscious about my thighs. My mom told me I’d regret it and that being able to play the piano was something I’d wish I knew how to do once I got older. I hate it when she’s right.
I didn’t even realize Chris knew how to play when we first met. The tap dancing his sister had told me about immediately, just so he would turn the most beautiful shade of pink I’d ever seen. But our third official date was when I’d sit down next to him at a piano for the first time. It was also the moment when I’d realize I was falling completely head over heels for him.
“You’re shivering. Oh my god, your teeth are chattering. Come here,” Chris said as he raised his voice to be heard over the rain just beyond his patio and pulled me tight against his chest, wrapping his arms around my back. We stood there for a few moments before he cleared his throat and leaned into my ear. “Would you wanna maybe come inside for a hot drink and to dry off a little before you head back to your place?”
I could feel my quickened pulse all the way to my toes as he finished asking the question. Of course I wanted to go inside, but what would happen once we got in there? I still couldn’t believe this was happening and was convinced it would all fall apart at any moment. Things like this just don’t happen to me.
I leaned back and looked up into his face to be met with the longest eyelashes I’d ever seen, stuck together thanks to the rain we got caught in while walking back from the restaurant. His sometimes blue, sometimes green, always beautiful eyes flicked down to the rain running a track along my neck and into my now soaked blouse. Shit, of course I wanted to go inside. “Yes, please,” I said before he placed a soft kiss onto the top of my head.
Chris tossed his keys on the table in his entryway then flicked on a few light switches, casting everything in a warm glow. “I have a couple of nice big bath robes if you want one. For some reason awards shows and studios love to give them as gifts. I could throw your clothes in the dryer and we could turn on a movie or something while they dry?”
“That sounds perfect,” I answered while glancing around and trying to not be too obvious about the curiosity that was nearly killing me. This is where Chris Evans lives. My biggest crush for years lives here, and I’m standing in his living room at this very moment. After slipping my shoes off I stepped further into the house when I spotted the shiny piano in the corner.
I glanced back up the stairway and listened for his footsteps, which sounded like they were still wandering around in what I assumed was his bedroom. Grasping at anything that would distract me from the fact that his bedroom, and bed for that matter, were right above me I walked slowly towards the piano and ran my fingertips softly across the keys. A smile filled my face as I looked at the picture frames across the top, filled with pictures of his family. These last couple of weeks with him had been a complete whirlwind that I still wasn’t sure was actually happening, and not some cruel joke my dreaming brain was playing on me.
For probably the dozenth time I pinched the skin on my forearm to make sure I was awake. Stupid, I know, but I’d wager that most women in my situation would do exactly the same thing. After feeling the pressure of my fingertips I let out a small laugh. Okay. Still real.
Chris’s deep voice rumbled right behind me. “What’s so funny?”
Startled I turned and bumped into his chest which was now covered in nothing more than a white robe with the initials C.E. embroidered directly over his heart. Impossibly soft looking chest hairs were peeking out, begging to be touched. “Just checking…nothing, sorry. I didn’t realize you played,” I said, not so smoothly, while trying to change the subject.
“I don’t know that you’d call it playing, but I guess some people would. Do you? Play?”
“Not any more. I did when I was younger, but it’s been years since I’ve even touched one.” Gentle fingertips ran across my arm, feeling the bumps that had raised on my skin thanks to the chill in the air and the fact that he was standing so close to me. “I put a robe and towel in the bathroom upstairs for you. If you wanna put your clothes outside the door I’ll toss them in the dryer and get us something warm to drink.”
The only thing I could communicate from my brain to my mouth in the moment was something akin to a moan and shaky nod in agreement. I needed to get my shit together or tonight would be a disaster.
After a ridiculous pep talk in the bathroom mirror and a moment alone to gather my thoughts I stepped out of Chris’s upstairs bathroom and made my way down the hallway, clad in nothing more than the robe with a towel in my hair. I paused outside his bedroom door and glanced inside to see the giant bed and blue glow of the clock on his bedside table. It was a simple room with nothing more than the bed, dresser, and dark blue love seat next to a tall reading lamp. I found myself wondering how soft his sheets would feel against my bare legs before hearing a sound from downstairs. The piano.
Pausing at the railing I could see down into the open living room, and spotted him there. I stood quietly, watching, terrified that he would stop when he realized I was listening. Finally he looked up, spotting me up above him, and smiled. That smile, the one that never ceased to make me melt. The one that can still get him out of nearly any argument our two stubborn asses love to get into on any given day.
“Were you spying on me? In my own house?”
“Maybe,” I laughed as I made my way down the stairs to stand next to him.
Scooting over to the other side of the bench while still playing he nodded his head down towards the empty spot next to him. “There’s room for two.”
I listened to the soft sound of his fingers touching the keys before recognizing what he was playing. “Ben Folds, huh?”
“Yeah, I pretty much learned this song just so I could woo beautiful women.”
“Smart move.”
“Only if it’s working. Is it working?” His head leaned down towards mine as his hands paused, his eyebrows raised in question.
“Oh, it’s definitely working,” I answered as I pressed my lips against his. “Teach me,” I begged after he left me slightly breathless.
“Hmm?” His eyes were still closed as his forehead leaned against mine and reached up to take the towel down from my hair. His hands threaded into the strands as his lips laid soft kisses along my throat.
“The song. Teach me how to play it? Even just a chord or two?” I asked again.
“Are you trying to distract me from the fact that I’m dying to take you upstairs right now? Because I’m definitely not a teacher and I’m not even all that sure I’m playing the right chords.”
Shit. “Maybe I’m just trying to psyche myself up and convince myself that this is really happening.”
“Here,” Chris said as he scooted the bench back and guided me into his lap. “Put your hands on top of mine,” he whispered into my ear. His breath still smelled a bit like the beers we’d had with dinner and I was completely high on everything from the scratch of his beard against my cheek as he nuzzled into me to the way his breath tickled the hair that had fallen around my ears.
His hands moved with confidence and ease as they played the melody, mine resting gently on top of his. After the first verse he stopped and wrapped one arm around my torso, the other coming up underneath my chin and turning my head towards his.
“You said just a chord or two, now can I please take you upstairs and find out what makes you scream my name?”
“Fuck,” I moaned as my legs fell open across his lap.
“That’s exactly what I want to do,” he answered as we stood and he grabbed my hand to lead me up the stairs. “Maybe I’ll teach you the song in the morning, after breakfast.”