Not Another Love Song

by Julie Soto

But being utterly hypnotized by a nobody, playing “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring” of all things, was unsettling.

Because Alex had traveled the entire world by the age of twenty-six, and Gwen Jackson was the first person he’d found who could actually do what he did. And possibly do it better. Only she didn’t know it yet. And that—that—was the terrifying part.

“Sure! And actually…” Ama checked over her shoulder and whispered, “it was Xander who requested you.”

“I was there for every temper tantrum this year, every insult to Nathan’s conducting, every quip at your mother,” she said. His eyes narrowed. “I’ve been watching you, Xander Thorne. You’re no angel here.” His eyes slid over her face, down to her blushing neck. He moved closer, and she had to tilt her head back. “You’ve been watching me?” he whispered, the hint of a smirk in the corner of his mouth.

“How interesting, then, that I’d never even heard of you until last month,” he puffed across her forehead. “Sounds like more of a ‘you’ problem, but—” “They’ve been keeping you hidden,” he said. “Ordinary. When you’re anything but.”

And instead he hit the record button on his music writing software and picked up his bow. When he was done, when it was out of him, he clicked save. The computer asked him what to call it. He didn’t want to title it yet, but the file needed a name. He typed: Not a Love Song. And he believed it for a few weeks.

“Look, I don’t know what you want from me, but—” “Anything.” Black eyes looked down on her, and he took a shaking breath. “Everything.”

“Tell me I can see you again,” he whispered, leaning into her. “For music or anything else.”

She was attracted to Xander, but she might have been able to fall in love with Alex, she thought.

“If you don’t want to be with me, together with me, I can understand,” he said, and she felt her knees wobble. “But, Gwen, please make music with me. I need you in my life. I need to be in your orbit in some way, and if you don’t want me to touch you and kiss you and fuck you, then let me make love to you onstage every night because it’s the most alive I’ve felt in ten years—”

Made for each other.

“I want to be clear,” he whispered, as she focused on the rose-colored smudges around her lips. “I want you. In every way.” She swallowed, and he watched her throat move. “I want to see you. And fuck you. And play music with you.”

“Go put your cello away properly, Mr. Thorne. That thing is worth almost a million dollars.” He curved his hands under her thighs and encouraged her legs to wrap around his waist. “I’m taking care of something much more valuable,”

“You think they’re different people?” “I know they are!” she said. “Xander is a stage name. A persona. It’s someone you like to dip into for a bit.” “And who is ‘Alex’?” he asked, and she noticed he was perfectly still, waiting for her answer. She stepped into him and reached her hand up to his jaw. “Alex is who I fell in love with.”

“It’s her or the band, Xander. Is she worth giving up all you’ve worked for?”

Maybe she liked love songs after all. As long as she was playing them with Alex.

“It’s about a cello who fell in love with a violin.”