Private Lessons

“You are.” Setting the tablet down, I looked at him. “While you teach me this, maybe I can give you a lesson or two on how to be a little more friendly.” His narrowed look brought a laugh bubbling from my chest and I think the sound startled him.

His hands moved to unbutton his top button, as if the shirt was choking him. After clearing his throat, he looked at my keyboard. “We should get started.”

Apparently, Antonio wasn’t as bad at showing emotion as I thought. Right now, he looked a little flustered.

Time to get serious. No getting lost in my own thoughts like before. If I don’t have myself completely focused, the same thing would happen like on stage. Having a very important set of eyes on me purposely looking for mistakes, I needed to be perfect.

Pressing the first key, I heard him sigh.

“You’re stiff. Relax.”

“I am relaxed,” I bit back. Okay, I didn’t expect him to comment before I even risked getting lost into playing.

“You look like a porcelain doll. If you flex your wrists, will you crack?” He wasn’t expecting an answer, right?

“I’m playing like I normally do.” Arguing with a teacher is never a good idea, but he was making it hard.

“Liar.” There he went, calling me out again.

Was I really that stiff?

I let my shoulders sink and blew out a sigh. “I’m trying to impress you.”

“Why?”

“That’s a loaded question, buddy.” Forcing out a laugh, I beat myself up inside for letting that slip. “Because you’re you. Watching me with such an intense gaze…”

“So, you only play for those who can see you?” he quirked a brow. “Who do you play for when you play with that plastic while you’re all alone? Your neighbor?”

I was going to fight this guy by the end of the day.

“I play for myself, I guess,” I huffed out. “It’s stupid–”

“No.” The firmness of his voice made me jump. “That is what I want. Play for yourself. Whether you are alone or in a room full of people.” I didn’t understand his mindset in the slightest.

“But what if I mess up? I’ll disappoint those who are watching.” Apparently, in less than a day of being around the man, he made all of my secret feelings start to seep out.

“If you play only for yourself, who is there to disappoint?” Moving to stand, he approached me. “Relax. Try again.”

Really hard to relax when he was standing so close. Even when he grabbed a chair and sat next to me, my nerves got worse.

“You’re making it hard,” I confessed as I stared down at my keyboard.

“If you can’t overcome playing in front of me like this, the next two weeks are going to be very difficult.” He didn’t move, cementing himself next to me. “Try again,” he repeated firmly.

Knowing I wasn’t going to be able to escape him, I looked back at him before back at the keyboard. Sucking in a breath, I tried to calm down.

I listened to the song on repeat, played the notes over and over again. Despite never playing it once outside of my head, he expected a perfect playthrough. He did, didn’t he? The man was a perfectionist after all.

A perfectionist who wanted me despite witnessing me fail.

Reaching for keys, I closed my eyes. Replayed the song in my head. Reminded myself I could do it, that I had no one to impress.

Hitting the first note, I tried to do as he asked and played for myself.

Antonio didn’t stop me.