Caleb was wearing his sky-blue bowtie with the tiny dots. Perched on the collar of his turquoise shirt that was tucked into a pair of indigo jeans, his outfit was an ode to calmness. The colors of the sea and sky in the early morning, a harmony of graduated shades of blue.
It made him wish he were on the beach this stuffy Friday night. Instead, he was leaning on a lamppost outside a convenience store, suffocating under the blanket of thick, heavy air. Tentatively, he dipped a forefinger between his buttoned-down collar and neck, and felt his flesh damp with perspiration.
To top it off, Ginny was late. Caleb should have lingered in the shower. Eaten a sandwich before leaving. Or maybe continued obsessing about his practical exam earlier that afternoon, hoping that his piano professor missed his heartbeat of a hesitation when he transitioned in between movements of a Mozart piece. But as usual, Caleb was on time, a slave to a built-in metronome that carefully measured out the durations it took to finish his tasks, even if he was consciously taking it slow.
Despite the humidity, he anticipated his reward. Tonight, the notes and scales that had haunted him for weeks would fade into a few hours of air conditioning and the Hollywood-directed frenzy of superheroes fighting villains. Finally, he was going to watch the blockbuster movie everyone else had seen.
"Cale!"
His chin snapped up, quickly locating Ginny's beaming face. It was framed by the backseat window of a taxi crawling into a stop in front of him.
"Get inside," she called out. "Change of plans."
"You're late." On the surface, Caleb's voice sounded bored. But already, he could feel his inner metronome ticking fast, asserting its rhythm over Ginny's unwelcome surprise. "We're still watching a movie, right?"
"This is better." Ginny nodded emphatically, the dyes of purple, blue and pink glinting on her head like metallic confetti. "Infinitely better."
For a few seconds, Caleb considered blowing her off and watching the movie by himself. If there was one thing he hated more than flying roaches, it was the sudden change of plans.
But the skies decided for him. Without warning, a sheet of rain unfurled, assaulting him with liquid bullets. Caleb yelped and yanked on the door handle, scrambling into the backseat, and deliberately bumping hips with Ginny.
He made sure he was scowling when he said, "This better be awesome, Gins."
* * *
It was infinitely worse.
His collar had clung to his damp neck like onionskin. The pineapple shake he'd ordered was more slush than fruit. And he wanted to watch an action movie, not Ginny making awkward moves on Noel, their gangly blockmate who played flute.
Like most indie cafes, this one scrimped on light bulbs, air conditioning and space. He and Ginny had been lucky to grab an empty table—even if one of its legs wobbled each time Caleb set down his glass. Customers who weren't lucky enough to find seats filled in the gaps between the tables, pretending that spending the night on their feet was no problem at all.
Each time the door swung open, Caleb held his breath as the nicotine exhaled by the smokers outside streamed into the café. He should just leave right now. Save himself the agony of watching Ginny chat up Noel, who was clearly so nervous, all someone had to do was kick him behind the knees, and everyone would be yelling Timberrr!
"Caleb?"
He flinched and looked up at a girl who had stopped by his table.
"Your name's Caleb, right?" She smiled, dimples instantly dotting both cheeks. "The pianist from MusicFest?"
