Not Another Love Song

by Julie Soto

Her bow lifted, and she followed his cello line, turning off her brain and letting herself play. He joined her in two measures on what should have been her violin line, yellow diamonds in the sky. Her eyes moved over the page, following the notes, her brain unable to do anything else. She echoed him at one point, and the only thing she could think was, This is gorgeous. The cello line—her, on violin—was supposed to take the section in the song where the techno beat lifts, the part that you jump to in clubs—if Gwen were the kind of person that went to clubs. The bow danced over her violin, climbing the scale. She had no idea what she was doing, but she knew this song. She looked up, and Xander, forgoing the sheet music altogether, was focused on her. He was under her, shivering through the same lift. His lips were parted, and his breath was shallow. It was the closest she’d been to him as he played like Xander Thorne, bow strings breaking, strong body moving quickly to the beat. She watched as his eyes dropped to her mouth.

AHHHH THIS IS SO COOL