Taylor's POV

I watch with hidden amusement as Darko slams his head down on Mrs Lauriana's piano keys, weeping in frustration. A horrible burst of sound erupts from the instrument, making me cringe.

"I hate this! Why is this so hard?" He says. I pat his back.

"As I said, learning this will be hard. You'll get the hang of it eventually."

He cranes his head, my eyes meeting his as his ear rests on the keys. He does a cute little pout, sticking out his lower lip.

I have my work cut out for me. Darko's terrible. Think Squidward and his clarinet. We've been at it for less than twenty minutes and he's already complaining about his hands seizing up and his back hurting from the posture he must sit in.

"I guess so. You just make it look so easy."

I smile, then quickly turn to face the instrument, hiding a blush that I can feel has decided to appear. "You're such a suck-up. Anyway, come on, back into position. We're not done until you can play it."

As instructed before, he tries to but fails to sit properly. I click my tongue, pushing my glasses back up the bridge of my nose.

"You're sitting wrong — here, let me."

I push the small of his back in, and as he arches into the position, I feel a tingle in my gut. My hand turns to jelly, and I pull away when I realise my hand had been resting on the small of his back for just a second too long.

God, that curve is so attractive.

"P-perfect. Ready? I'll play the intro again, then, you copy me."

Darko nods. I begin playing the first few notes of the song, making sure it's slow enough for him to remember the sequence. Once I'm done, I turn to him, gesturing to the pearly keys. He finally manages to copy my finger work correctly, making a smile appear on both of our faces.

"Yes!" I say cheerfully, "keep playing that part over and over until you can do it without thinking about it."

He nods, smiling with pride, and keeps replaying the notes as he did before. Darko shuts his eyes, the notes of the song filling both of our ears. Soon, he's lost in his own thoughts.

Too lost. His hands start to drift away, but his eyes remain shut.

"Uh, Darko? You're playing the wrong notes."

Snapping his eyes open, he glances down, and he realises he's playing everything one note lower down than he should be. Swearing loudly, he throws his head back, yelling at the ceiling. "I'll never learn this! This is ridiculous! I swear I have stupid fingers or something."

I chuckle. "Relax. Nobody gets it right off the bat, or even on their first day of trying. Believe it or not, I was once terrible at the piano."

Darko snorts. "Yeah, I know, but that was in like grade two. Everybody is bad at an instrument when they're seven — I couldn't figure out how to play the maracas for a hot minute. The maracas. You have serious talent."

An enormous grin forms on my lips. I shake my head, trying to not let his comment go straight to my head. "You're such a suck-up, Darko."

He rolls his eyes as he refocuses on the keys in front of him. I look at the instrument, then at him, making sure his posture is perfect. Well, that's what a normal teacher would do. I'm taking every opportunity I can get to stare at his lower back and the top of his butt. "Come on, try and play the introduction again."

He groans, shaking his head. "There's no point. I just can't get my damn fingers to go in the right spots."

Hm. Well, there's one thing I could try. But, would it be weird? Would he think I'm making a move on him?

"Maybe we should use stickers? I remember you used to use them," He suggests. I wave at him dismissively.

Maybe this will be the only time I can do this. I look at him, eyes wide, a small smile playing at the corner of my lips. I can barely contain my excitement.

"I have an idea. Firstly, promise you won't freak out."

He arches an eyebrow. "Why would I freak out?"

Scratching the back of my head, I shrug, looking elsewhere in the room. "Just, do you trust me?"

A small smile washes over his lips, making my heart twist. God, I wanna kiss him. "Of course I trust you."

"Good."

Getting off the stool, I stand behind him, stretching my arms forward. He tries to turn around to face me, but I tell him to keep looking towards the instrument. He does as he's told, and the thought of him following my instructions is seriously doing some wild things to me.

"This is a bit... unconventional, but it'll help put your fingers in the right spots," I say, standing closer behind him. "Just, tell me if I'm too up in your grill."

Snaking my arms over his, I wrap my pinkie, ring, and middle fingers over his respective fingers, putting my pointer fingers on top of his. He tenses, his breath hitched. Crap, did I freak him out?

"W-what are you doing?"

My chin's resting on his shoulder. I feel him shiver, like he's just gotten a chill up his spine. God, I am freaking him out, aren't I? "Just, trust me. Move your pointer fingers underneath mine, and take a breath."

He hums, nervously I think, and a warmth settles in my chest, making me smile. I can feel the slight bristle of his facial hair as it grazes my cheek. His scent — sandalwood notes with some masculine, musky thing I can't quite place — fills my nostrils, almost making me lightheaded. Good God. My arms are covered in goose-bumps – thank fuck I'm wearing a long sleeve shirt, or he'd have seen.

I'm... I'm on top of Darko, in control of his actions, and he's letting me do this.

Suddenly remembering what I was doing, I move our hands onto the right notes, pressing each key with his extended finger seamlessly. Together, our hands slide over the ivory slates, smooth melodies emanating from the piano and filling our eardrums.

I think I'm going to pass out from this intimacy. The best idea you've had thus far, Taylor. His proximity, his warmth, his touch... mmm. There is nowhere else I want to be right now.

As our fingers dance around on the keys, playing the final notes, I just stay there for a minute, letting the mood envelop us. I'm still hovering over him, my hands on top of his still – and he hasn't told me to move yet. Fucking hell, I'm basically holding hands with him.

And my voice is so low, I'm whispering to him. I start to speak, and he barely contains a flinch, like I've startled him. "Well, you certainly don't have stupid fingers now."

He chuckles, and I can't decide if it's a nervous one or a panicked one. Regardless, I can feel the sound of his voice echo from his back onto my chest. It's even more buttery and deep when it's this close to my ears.

"W-well, they would be stupid without yours. Thanks, mate."

Mate. Right. We're just mates. Not boyfriends, or anything else. Just mates.

I get off him before he starts thinking I'm weird and sit back down next to him, sighing to myself. He gives me a strange look, one I can't decipher, before facing the instrument again.

What the hell, Taylor? What on Earth were you thinking? Is this sexual assault? Did I actually think this would help him learn, or did I want it to so I could have an excuse to touch him?

Realising I've gone quiet, I pipe up. "You think you could give it another go, without my help?"

He hesitates for a second, looking at his hands. "I'll try."

Darko begins playing. My eyes flit to the row of arch windows nearby, which overlook the campus's parking lot. A few men and women in business clothing mill about, some with suitcases and others with handbags. My mind wanders to last night's jam session, and then frustration bubbles at the base of my gut.

I still haven't decided on what I'm going to play, and the concert is just under a month away. Ms Lauriana is getting impatient, and there's only so much more I can bullshit before she tells me that I can't participate.

Stupid piano. Stupid everything. Dad would be so disappointed in me. That is, if he were here. Then again, he wouldn't have gone out that night if I didn't just-

"Uh, Taylor? You just missed me doing it all right."

I look at him, and he's got his hand half-raised in a hanging high-five. He looks dejected.

"Everything okay?" he croaks out. I blink, and just shrug, turning away.

"Yeah, sorry, just... good job on the song. I did hear it, but my mind just wandered. Just thinking about Dad, you know?"

I turn back to him with weak smile. Frowning, he puts a sympathetic hand on my shoulder. "He would be proud that you're teaching me a song. Hell, he probably would have told you it was impossible."

I chuckle. "He probably would have gotten you to learn a million songs by now. He wasn't a university lecturer for no reason."

My breath hitches at the mention of his work. A glimpse of him playing at a concert flashes in my mind, but it's gone as fast as it appeared. I shake my head, looking at the instrument.

"I'll be okay. Let's just focus on mastering this song, okay? Come on."

He plays a few more rounds, and by his fourth solo-attempt, he can play it on his own without any prompting. Fingers tapping the keys, his face crinkles into a joyful grin, eyes shutting as he plays the instrument as if he were actually a musician. I smile and watch him, my heart swelling, but all I can think about are my sessions like this with my father.

I really need to stop thinking about him, but I just can't. No matter how much I tell myself to stop, that guilty seed that's lodged itself in my gut won't go away. I need to tell someone the truth. Maybe I need to tell Mindy the whole truth about the accident. Maybe I'll feel better again.

Maybe.