Between The Notes

One: First Lesson

"It's all a lie," I wrote the last line in my new poem, the words heavy and full of frustration. The quiet hum of my thoughts was interrupted by a ping from my phone. A reminder text popped up.

"Hi, Celeste Lockwood? This is a reminder of your 7:00 pm lesson with Ms. Farrington!"

I sent a quick "Thanks" and set the phone down, my eyes flicking to the large black-and-white clock on the wall. It read 5:00 pm. I stood and walked to the bathroom, ready for the evening ahead.

I stripped out of my cozy pajamas and stepped into the shower. The warm water cascaded over me, soothing my thoughts as I let it envelop me. After quickly washing, I stepped out, wrapping a towel around my body. I dressed in a sweater dress—perfect for the bitter December air—gathering my piano folder filled with sheet music, my phone, and keys before heading out.

I called down to my mother, "Bye!" as I left the house, my voice swallowed by the quiet. Once in my car, I checked the time—6:30 pm. I would make it on time. The car ride was silent, but it felt comfortable, a lull before what I knew would be an important lesson.

The GPS guided me to a sprawling driveway, and I parked behind an elegant black car. My breath caught at the sight of the grand house. It was... intimidating. I felt small in comparison. With a quick check to smooth my dress and fix my hair, I stepped out and walked toward the door, clutching my book and phone nervously.

I knocked three times—gentle but firm.

The door opened, and my gaze immediately locked with a pair of bright blue eyes. Her blonde hair framed her face in soft waves.

"Hi, Ms. Farrington?" I asked hesitantly, offering my hand in greeting.

"Yes, dear. You must be Celeste Lockwood?" Her voice was firm but elegant as she shook my hand. It was soft, almost surreal.

"Yes! It's very nice to meet you," I said, my voice warm, but the connection was undeniable. Her skin felt like silk against mine.

"Well, please come in," she said with a smile, stepping aside to let me in. "We've got some work to do."

The inside of the house smelled like caramel, and I couldn't help but hum softly at the comforting scent.

"Oh, that would be my homemade caramel fudge. Would you like some, dear?" she asked, her voice kind as she heard my hum of approval.

"Oh, no, I don't want to bother you," I replied, feeling awkward.

"It's no bother if I offer," she said, her tone gentle but insistent. She made her way to the kitchen, and before disappearing from view, her voice softened, a teasing edge slipping in. "Relax, dear. I don't bite."

I smiled at that and sat on the nearby couch while she returned with a piece of fudge. She was dressed in black suit pants and a white tank top with a cropped grey cardigan. The outfit hugged her every curve, and I couldn't help but notice how effortlessly graceful she appeared.

"Didn't your mama teach you not to stare, dear?" she asked, her voice warm, though there was a subtle reprimand in it.

My heart raced as I stammered, "I'm so sorry! You're beautiful..." I blurted, before my hands flew to my mouth in mortification.

She raised an eyebrow but remained composed. "Thank you, dear. But that's highly inappropriate," she said coolly, her eyes locking onto mine, void of emotion.

I felt my face burn as I nodded, silence settling between us. I searched her gaze for any hint of what she truly thought, but it was like she had closed off entirely. The atmosphere shifted.