The Bad Boy and the Piano Girl (Book #1)

Chapter Fourty Four: Who You Love

Chapter Fourty Four: Who You Love.

I peek through the curtains to see an audience of around two to three hundred people seated waiting for the show to start.

I look back at Gigi and Carter giving them a weak smile. "I can do this."

"Yes you can!" They both reassure me.

I peek through once more. "Nope, I can't do it. Is it me or is it hot in here? Why's the room spinning?"

"Woah woah woah, sit down." Carter leads me to a chair.

"Since when are you Peter woah woah woah Kavinsky?" I laugh. God, I'm hilarious.

"You have an unhealthy obsession with that film." He deadpans.

"Don't act like you don't love it."

He elbows me. "Shhh don't expose me!"

"Heidi!" Mr Jacobs, my music teacher, rushes over.

"What's wrong?" I ask, worried.

"Jude the Prude's cancelled!" He exclaims.

"Sir, you can't call her that!" How does he even know her nickname?!

Carter shrugs. "I mean, does anyone even call her by her real name?"

"Exactly!" Mr Jacobs agrees.

Carter laughs. "Remember her nickname last year when she had that huge moustache?"

"Jude the Dude!" They both shout.

"You're both going to hell." Gigi shakes her head.

I swat Carter on the back of his head to make him shut up. That earns me a glare.

"Now Mr Jacobs, focus! What were you going to say?"

"Oh yeah! Since Jude's left you're on first. Good luck honey!" He pushes me towards the stage.

"What!" Oh god. I'm going to be sick.

"And next up we have our school's very own Heidi Thompson!" The voice blares through the speakers backstage.

That's my cue.

The audience start to clap as I slowly walk towards the piano on the stage, silently repeating the words 'Don't puke. Don't puke. Don't puke.'

My nerves are pushed aside when I stare at the beautiful grand piano before me. My hands automatically find their way to the keys as though they have some sort of gravitational pull towards me.

I close my eyes and take in a deep breath. As I feel the delicate keys beneath my fingertips I remember that this is what I was born to do.

I let my hands do all the work, my fingers effortlessly playing each key. And in this moment I forget everything. The butterflies in my stomach. The huge audience watching me. Julliard.

It's just me and my piano.

The only sense I feel is my ears listening to the beautiful melody my hands play.