Marissa
Even though he told me state champion, I was unprepared for how incredible Gio plays. His fingers dance over the keys playing an incredible classical song I’ve heard in movies. Or elevators.
I stand behind him, admiring the ease with which he holds himself, how he looks over at me and winks, like he knows I’m blown away and thinks it’s funny.
“What song is this?”
“Solfeggietto in C. It sounds more impressive than it is,” he tells me. “It’s actually just scales.”
I laugh incredulously. “No, it’s pretty impressive.”
But I’m getting itchy. If I stay much longer, Gio’s going to think we’re having s*x. I’ve already sat down over wine and dinner with him—which I know was probably a mistake. I wish I didn’t find him so damn irresistible.
As if Gio picks up on my tension, the moment
