In Harmony (21 page)

But he just gazed back at me, and what I could see in his eyes was the same conflict I’d seen that night outside the bar, when I’d asked him why he’d agreed to help me.
Maybe he’s wondering how to let me down gently. Poor geeky girl who has a crush on him…
I looked away and extricated myself as best I could. “She doesn’t understand that we’re just…friends. I mean, we are friends, right?”

He gave me a slow nod. “Absolutely.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

I should have felt better—I finally knew where I stood.
Friends.
I had a friend who I lusted after. A friend I was starting to feel something deeper for. A friend who, apparently, had no interest in me. Was it all my fault? Had I hesitated too long, back when I was denying even being attracted to him? Or had he always felt this way, and everything else was in my head?

Why were men so difficult to read? Why couldn’t they come with a neon readout on their forehead showing exactly what they were feeling…and for whom?

“Do you want to go out?” Connor asked.

My train of thought hit the sudden turn and derailed completely.

“What?!”
I was just surprised, but it came out as horror.

“As friends. Not as a date. Obviously.” He said it quickly, but was he just clarifying…or backpedalling?

“Obviously,” I echoed. “Where?”

“Somewhere you haven’t been.”

“How do you know where I haven’t been?”

“I have a pretty good idea of the sorts of places you go.”

I folded my arms. “Oh, really? Maybe I’m not as predictable as you think.”

He counted off on his fingers. “Harper’s and Flicker, because they’re basically part of Fenbrook. A few favorite posh restaurants. Classical concerts.” He studied me closely. “The New York Public Library and the Museum of Natural History.”

My jaw dropped open.
How did he know?!
“Not even close,” I said. “I go to…MMA fights! And I go to the parties afterwards! In really seedy bars!”

He leaned in close. “
Really?”

“No. Not really.” I hung my head. “God, I’m so boring!”

“All the more reason to come out with me tonight. Eight o’clock.”

“Where?”

“It’ll be a surprise.”

Chapter 15

In a way, not knowing where we were going made it easier; if I’d had to dress for an upmarket restaurant or a low-rent bar, I’d have spent hours second-guessing my clothes. I put on jeans and a hooded top and declared myself ready. Then I added some lipstick. Then took it off again because we were just friends. Then put it on again just
because.

My phone rang, and I was so distracted that I didn’t even wonder who it might be, just snatched it up and put it to my ear. “Hello?”

“How’s practice?” asked my father.

Guilt rose up like a fist and slammed me in the gut. “F—Fine,” I told him, not very convincingly.

He hesitated for a second. “You
are
practicing, aren’t you, Karen?”

My breath was suddenly trapped in my chest. I had been, of course. Every spare moment I got…but not
that
night. I felt myself cringe. What was I doing? Going on some mystery not-really-a-date when—

“It’s not long until the recital,” my father said, stealing my thoughts. “You should be practicing whenever you’re not actually in a lecture.” He hesitated again. “There’s not…there’s not a
boy,
is there?”

“No! No, God, of course not! Don’t be silly!” I’d been saying the same thing for so many years that it sounded true, even to me. It
was
true. We were just friends, even if I was secretly lusting after him.

“Everything okay with the apartment?” he asked, as he always did.

“Yes.” I had my eyes squeezed shut, now. “Everything’s fine. Thank you.”

“No letters about bills or anything?”

He knew there weren’t. That was the point. My chest grew tight because I knew what was coming. “No,” I told him. “It’s all running fine. Thank you. Thank you for paying for everything.”

He managed to sound shocked. “Oh, sweetheart! You don’t have to thank me! I know how hard you’re working. That’s thanks enough.”

He would cut me off—that was the unspoken threat. If he found out about Connor, found out I wasn’t rehearsing tonight, found out I was lying to him, he’d simply stop paying for the apartment, the bills, and my allowance. And I’d have no choice but to slink back to Boston and live with him.

“I should go and rehearse,” I told him in a small voice.

“Don’t work
too
late. No good being tired in lectures.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

I hung up and sat down on the bed. What had I been thinking? He was right, I should be rehearsing. I’d call Connor and tell him I couldn’t make it. Remind him that he should be rehearsing, too. I scrolled through my contacts list with my thumb, but my eyes were hot and blurry, no matter how viciously I swiped at them with the back of my hand.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. It wasn’t even a date—it was just two friends going out. You’re just upset because you got caught. You knew it was wrong, to try to—

Have a life.

I sniffed and stared at Connor’s name for a long, long time. And then I called a cab.

***

We met on 5
th
Avenue, which was my first clue. As we headed into Central Park and joined the crowds, I got it. “Ice skating?”

“Ever do it?”

“No.” It looked like it might be fun. Then I saw the slashing, gleaming blades cutting into the ice at five thousand miles an hour and stopped.

“Are you
insane?”
I asked.

Connor looked genuinely bemused. “What? It’s not going to hurt
that
much if you fall over.”

“Fingers!” I waggled mine in front of his face. “We’re musicians! What happens if you lose a finger?”

He grinned at me. “You’re sweet.”

I tried to ignore the warm rush that exploded in my chest. “I’m serious! I’m not risking my hands, and you shouldn’t either!”

He patted me on the head.

I should have been infuriated—
Was
infuriated and yet…it was completely different to how he would have done it when I first met him. It didn’t feel like he was mocking me, now. It felt like a shared gag. And the touch of his hand in my hair made me go tingly right down my back.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

I looked at him. “Against my better judgment…yes.”

“The blades aren’t that sharp. And I borrowed these.” He passed me a pair of thickly padded gloves. “Just to be on the safe side.”

The warm glow he’d lit inside me grew stronger. He’d known that I’d be paranoid.

He knew me.

I took the gloves, laced on some skates and allowed him to lead me out onto the ice. I was nervous, but how hard could it be, right? I could see little kids out on the ice, and they were managing fine. It was probably easier than it looked.

It wasn’t.

Who came up with the idea of taking a human—with two perfectly good, flat feet—and balancing them on two razor-thin pieces of metal on a slippery, hard, freezing cold surface and calling it
fun?
Probably the same person who somehow injected every child under ten with pro-level ice skating skills, allowing them to whiz past me at the speed of sound while I did a Bambi impersonation.

I staggered, my feet scrabbling for purchase and finding none, and fell on my ass for the seventeenth time.

Connor slowed to a stop beside me and offered his hand. “Want to stop?”

“No!” I said defensively as I got up. “I want to—” With absolutely no warning, I fell again, almost doing the splits as my legs shot from under me. “
Stupid
ice,” I said under my breath.

When I looked up, he was doubled over with laughter.

“What?” I asked, bemused.

“Do you realize that you
never
swear?” he asked. “I mean, not even once, the entire time I’ve known you?”

I reddened. “What’s so great about cursing?”

“Nothing. It’s just…it’s adorable.”

I flushed in a whole different way.

He was still grinning, his eyes distant as he remembered something. “When you came to the bar that time and you stormed out, you said, ‘
I don’t want your stupid beer.’
That was the moment I knew.”

I blinked. “Knew what?”

He went pale for a second. “Knew…that I had to help you.” He swallowed and rallied. “You were obviously helpless on your own.”

I sighed and let him pull me up. He got me to my feet, but I slid forward and whacked right into him. There were about six layers of clothes between us, but I could still feel the warm wall of his pecs against me, my head cradled in his neck.
Was that him, or me? Did he pull me harder than he had to, or did I slip more than I needed to?

“Sorry,” I said, and I saw his body tense at the heat of my breath on his neck. I drew back a little and looked up at him….

There was a flash, and we both looked round.

A man on skates holding a camera had just taken a picture of us. “Am I okay to use that? It’s for the park website—romantic couples, y’know?”

“We’re not together,” I said quickly. I wanted to get in there before Connor did, because if I heard the same words from his mouth I knew they’d hurt.

“Oh! Sorry.” He beamed and skated off. Connor and I looked at each other in mutual embarrassment. I was freezing, bruised, my hands were numb despite the gloves and I was pretty sure my jeans were soaked through, but I wasn’t going to quit until he was ready.

“Hot chocolate?” he asked, and I wanted to hug him.

***

We wandered down the street, ostensibly looking for a cab but focused mainly on each other, our fingers gradually thawing in the heat from the cardboard cups. Fairy lights were lighting up the trees above, casting a soft glow over us and it felt magical. Like anything could happen.

“Can I ask you something?” he said.

I could feel his eyes on me, and I tensed up. “Sure.”

“Why are you having problems? I mean, you ace all your performances, you get straight As…why do you even need the recital? What’s
your
weak spot?”

I hadn’t shared my problem with anyone. Other people must have wondered why I always skipped the presentations, but they didn’t know
why.
I’d always been too self-conscious about it, but I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell him everything.

“I can’t speak in front of people,” I told him. It sounded so pathetic, when I said it out loud.

“You’re scared?” he asked.

Yep,
I thought guiltily.
You have an actual problem, a learning disability. And I’m basically just afraid.
“Yeah.”

He was silent for a moment, and I thought I’d stunned him with how ridiculously minor my problem was. But he was frowning, really concentrating, and it hit me that he was imagining what it was like for me. No one had ever done that for me before.

“That’s rough,” he said at last, and I could hear he meant it.

“It’s stupid,” I said. “I should just get over it.”

He put a hand on my shoulder and stopped me. “No, it isn’t. You can’t function if you’re scared.” The hand lifted to my cheek, and I drew my breath in.

“What are
you
scared of?” I asked, more to cover what I was feeling than because I expected him to tell me.

“Trying,” he said simply. “You can’t fail if you don’t try.”

I looked up into his eyes. Another piece of the puzzle that was Connor Locke fell into place. The party lifestyle was easy. Playing solo in bars was easy. Battling the dyslexia, doing the recital…that was
hard.

And yet…he was doing it for me.

And then I felt it. Something bigger than thought, heavier than an ocean. It hadn’t crept up on me; it had been there, hanging above me, for weeks. I just hadn’t acknowledged its presence.

Standing there under the fairy lights, I finally let it slam down into me, and I felt like I was falling and flying at the same time. Oh my God.

“Are you okay?” Connor asked, concerned. “You look…spooked.”

A cab drew near and I practically ran under its wheels to get it to stop. “I’m fine!” I yelled over my shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” And before he could protest, I was bouncing into the back seat and waving goodbye.

Even before his hand had dropped from its bemused wave, I had my phone out.