English class was awkward after that. Mr. Tucker, as I reverted to calling him, steadily avoided eye contact with me and never called on me to answer a question. Olivia kept sending both him and me dirty looks, so I assumed he said something to her. Hopefully along the lines of you're a bitch.

Paul remained the same as he always was— no, let me correct that, he turned into super coach.

"Play it again."

My jaw nearly dropped. "What?"

He stared down at me, daring me to argue with him. "Play that part again. If you don't perfect it, you won't be able to perfect the next part."

"But I've played it ten times!"

"And you still don't have it right."

I glowered at him. "You play it then!"

A hint of a smirk appeared on his face. "I would, but I wouldn't want to discourage you from playing this piece."

"Does it matter?" I complained, letting my head fall against the glistening white piano keys. A few errant keys sounded.

"Do you want to win?"

"I'd like to," I admitted.

Paul tapped the piano. "Then play."

And so it went. The competition was in a few short weeks. If I wanted to impress the judges with Canon in C, I'd have to work hard. During piano class and at school, Paul drilled me endlessly. At one point I think I was sleep-playing the piano. Or at least sleep talking the measures. While Paul obviously really wanted me to win, I thought there were other motives to his Piano Training Camp of Hell. One being he didn't want Olivia to win, and two, because he considered himself my coach, and if I failed, he failed.

Even though he was already a famous pianist. World wide.

During the second week of December, I finally managed to play through the whole peace— slowly— without messing up. The smile Paul gave me made everything worth it. Pure, unadulterated happiness and pride. I found myself blushing, having to look away. See, the past few weeks also brought about a change in myself.

Maybe it was due to the fact that Paul suddenly seemed more manly after punching Mr. Tucker.

Maybe because I just hadn't noticed Paul before.

Maybe it was because of that strange, not totally unpleasant, feeling I got whenever I spotted the slowly fading bruises on his knuckles. Playing piano was Paul's entire life. Yet here he was, ruining them for me. Because of me. The weird feeling was coming over me again and I forced myself to remove my gaze from his nimble fingers. Now wasn't the time to sort out my feelings for my guardian— oh God, I'd forgotten. My guardian. How wrong was that? No worse than him being my semi-teacher at the same time. Why was my life so messed up?

"Should we go out for lunch?" Paul thought absentmindedly. "Haven't gone grocery shopping."

Date, was the word my mind shot to first. Scowling, I banished the thought. "Sure, just not the diner. Elliot's working and—" My words were interrupted by the doorbell sounding. "Expecting someone?"

Paul's brows furrowed. "No..."

Together, we exited the piano room, heading for the front door. Paul peeked out the window cut out near the top, pulling back with a surprised blink. After ushering me out of the way, he pulled open the door, and revealed my parents... and a familiar blonde.

"Allie!" Jeremy cried loudly, literally throwing himself at me.

With a grunt, I caught him, somehow managing to hold both ourselves up. "Crap, Jeremy. Aren't you too old for this?"

"Never too old to have fun with my cute little Allie Cat!"

My dad grabbed the back of Jeremy's jacket, hauling him back. "She's not your cute little Allie Cat. She's mine."

"Aw, Chris, still don't like sharing, I see. That's so cute."

"Isn't it about time for you to grow up?"

Jeremy gave him an innocent look. "Is it? Sorry, but I don't want to end up like an old man like you."

I rolled my eyes. Here we go.

"I know we shouldn't have brought you," my dad muttered. "Pain in my ass."

My mom just smiled, obviously used to their bickering. As they should be. Jeremy is my dad's best friend, and has been, since their college years. Jeremy also happens to be the cousin of Paul's mother. So technically, Paul is Jeremy's second cousin. "What are you guys doing here?" Paul finally asks.

Jeremy rounds of him, as if just noticing he's there. "Paul! Are you going to let us in? Or are we just going to stand in the cold all day?"

"Er, no, come in." Moving out of the way, Paul gestured the trio in.

My mom was the second person to catch me in a hug, placing a quick kiss on the top of my head. "Hi, Honey, how are you?"

Struggling out of her grip, I shrugged. "You know, fine. The same as the last time you called... yesterday. And didn't mention you'd be stopping by." Out of the three other times she actually came to the house, she called in advance.

"Well, it wasn't exactly planned..."

"Paul, make some coffee," my dad demanded. He never asked. Always demanded.

I sent Paul an apologetic look as he went for the kitchen. Jeremy was nosing about, picking up the different photographs that lined the hallway. "Did something happen?" I asked my mom, anxiety suddenly seizing me. "Is everything okay?"

"What? No! Everything is fine," my mom assured me. "Jeremy was over, and he decided that he wanted to come up, and he wouldn't take no for an answer... and your dad wouldn't let him come up alone."

"Jeremy is a danger to everything and everyone," my dad announced grimly.

"What?" Jeremy protested, faking a offended look. "I am not! I'm a lawyer!"

"My point exactly."

A wicked smirk crossed the blonde's face. "Ah, whatever. So how's it going, Allie? Got a boyfriend?"

"Ah, no..."

Jeremy raised an eyebrow. "Mm, that sounds like a lie if I ever heard one."

"I'd know if she had a boyfriend," my dad stated. "Because she'd tell me first, wouldn't you, Allie Cat?"

Technically, Mr. Tucker hadn't been my boyfriend. Just someone I'd been slightly interested in. And even if he had been my boyfriend, I wouldn't have told my parents right away. After all, he'd been my teacher. I wasn't sure how they'd take that... or take my developing crush on Paul. So I plastered on a bright smile and lied. "Sure, Dad!"

My mom grinned. "And that's a lie, if I ever heard one."

"Mom!"

"Hey, I don't mind if you have a secret boyfriend," she told me, raising her hands defensively. She shot my father a small smile. "Nothing wrong with that."

My dad grunted. "As long as he isn't dangerous."

"You mean like a gang member?" I commented dryly. "Dad, you gotta let that fantasy go."

Jeremy snorted.

"I was in a gang," my dad protested. "Ask your mother!"

"Mom?"

She thought about it for a moment, tapping her finger on her chin. "I don't recall any gang."

"Holly." My dad's voice was low.

"Yeah, I mean, it's not like you were ever shot before, right Chris?" Jeremy asked, an amused smile playing at his lips. "I've heard that little dream of yours a thousand times."

I raised an eyebrow. "Actually, I think he told me that story."

Jeremy and my mom laughed when my dad shot me a dirty look. "You know what? Forget it. Belive what you want."

My own amusement faded a little. I never once considered that my dad's stories might be true. But now that I was thinking about it, I'd never heard the true story of how my parents met. All I knew was that my mom was in high school when they started dating. And my dad's a little over four years older than my mom, so my first thought was that they met when she was a freshmen and he a senior, but I doubted that. Freshmen was too young. So I figured she met him when she was either seventeen or eighteen, but where I didn't know.

Nor did I ever plan on asking. At least not until I was a little older.

"You know," my mom started. "I bet if someone wrote about how we met, it'd be pretty popular."

My dad gave my mom a flat look. "Nobody would be interested in that. It'd be weird."

"Romantic," my mom defended.

"Weird."

"I mean, if they include me, I'd bet it'd be great," Jeremy said seriously. "I bring life to stories... that's not a bad idea. Maybe I'll convince one of my writer friends to do that.

"Not that Lynde fellow... she's weird."

Grimacing, I turned my back from the chatterbirds and disappeared into the kitchen, where Paul was pouring five cups of coffee. "Sorry," I apologized to him immediately. "I wasn't planning on them showing up..."

"Neither was I," he responded with a grin. "Especially Jeremy."

"Especially Jeremy," I agreed. "He's harder to handle than a hundred toddlers."

Paul laughed. "Amen to that. Remember when he used to babysit us?"

"Us?" I repeated in surprise.

"Of course, you were only four and I was six... apparently too young for you to remember. That's a good thing. It was a nightmare. You got into the fridge and I got into the pantries... and Jeremy just egged us along. My mom was pissed."

I blinked, momentarily surprised. I always forgot Paul and I used to hang out when we were younger. Me, too young to remember much of it. Execpt that Paul excelled at the piano, and he's the reason I began playing.

"I wish I remember back then," I finally said, frowning. "I can't really remember much of you."

He shrugged. "You were young."

"So what's for dinner?" Jeremy asked loudly, sauntering into the room with my parents following behind him. "Chris should cook. He's a good cook."

"So that's where Allie's skills come from..."

I scratched the back of my head, sharing an embarrassed look with my father. "I'm not that good," I protested.

"I am," my father said.

My mom rolled her eyes, smiling nonetheless. "Why don't we just order pizza? We'll eat in."

"Yeah, we shouldn't take Jeremy out in public," I muttered.

"Heard that," Jeremy commented, slinging an arm over my shoulder. "Actually, the reason I wanted to come over wasn't to harass you. Believe it or not."

I tilted my head at him. Jeremy was always a tall person. "What's the reason then?"

"When were you going to tell me about this music contest you entered?" he asked. "Holly, other Holly," he added as my mom turned to look at him, "mentioned it to me. It seems everyone knew but me. Were you going to invite me to the show?"

"No," I deadpanned.

This got my dad to grin. Jeremy pouted. "Why?"

"Jeremy, don't pout. It's creepy."

"Shut up, Old Man."

Chris glowered at him. "I'm two years older than you!"

"And the oldest person in this house as of the moment, therefore, old man."

I grinned. Jeremy was the one person who could bravely insult my dad without fear of being smacked. Because when my dad did punch Jeremy, Jeremy just laughed it off.

"Coffee's ready," Paul spoke up, gesturing toward the mugs.

"Thanks, Paul," my mom replied, taking one of the cups for herself. "I'm surprised this place is so clean, with Allie living here... she can be quite the slob."

My cheeks warmed up. "I am not!"

"You should see her room," Paul said solemnly.

"My room's fine!"

Paul chuckled. "I know, I was just kidding."

I puffed out my cheeks. "Very funny, Paul."

My mom gave me a suspicious look, but when I noticed it, it disappeared quickly. "How is the piece you're doing for the competition going?" she asked, taking a seat at the kitchen table.

"Let's order pizza," I heard Jeremy say in the background. "Chris, you're paying."

"It's going," I responded vaguely.

Paul pursed his lips at me. "Going" He turned to my mother. "She's doing amazing. Working really hard, and she can play the piece now. Beautifully. She's really smart and a quick learner. Though, I always knew she was great at piano. Probably the best in my class, and I'm not being biased just because of our families. I really think she's got a great chance of winning."

My eyes slowly drifted toward my feet, slightly embarrassed by Paul's compliments. It sounded like he was putting me up on a pedestal. I wasn't that great, no matter how much he claimed I was. There were much harder pieces out there. But then again, playing the piano isn't just about who can play the hard piece. Which I knew, but still... I didn't want to disappoint him if I lost.

"You seem pretty confident in her," my mom remarked, a pleased smile on her face.

Paul didn't even hesitate when he said, "she's really good."

"Is there a prize?"

"Five grand and entrance to the national competition," I said easily. That five grand would mean a car for me. National competition though... there was no way I'd win that. All I cared for was the five grand.

"National competition?" she echoed.

Paul nodded. "Yep. Only ten make it."

"You were one of those ten, weren't you? And then you won. At fifteen, right? That's how you started your name?"

Paul dipped his head. "Yeah. But to be fair, my competition wasn't that great."

My mom hummed. "So Allie could become as famous as you."

I laughed. "What? No way!"

"I want bacon!" Jeremy shouted randomly. Briefly, I glanced behind me, only to see my dad punching the blonde in the shoulder, his other hand over the receiver of the phone.

"Why not?" my mom responded with a frown.

"I'm not that good." Paul looked like he was about to protest, and I held up my hand. "No, I'm not. Say all you want, but I'm just not."

Paul crossed his arms. "Allie, you need to have more confidence in yourself."

"I have plenty of confidence," I defended. "I just know what my limitations are."

"What if you win the competition? Then what?"

"Then we'll see."

Paul narrowed his eyes at me for a moment, before sighing. "Right."

My mom sighed too, but not at me. At the sounds of fighting in the background. The three of us turned toward my dad and Jeremy who were squabbling over the telephone. I had a feeling that someone was still on the other line. "I don't know whether to be embarrassed or amused," she admitted.

"Both," Paul and I said at the same time. Then we both grinned at each other.

And my mom once again gave me a suspicious look and I felt my heart sink a little.

There's no way she could know anything, right?

__________________

Yay! An update! Sorry, Sherlock's taken over my life. Oh... it's just too great. And I've been making my friends watch it. They love it, of course. And there's been fireworks and I haven't been getting home until like 3AM. And driving alone at night is terrifying. But I'm enjoying summer. How are you guys doing?