Fluorescent lights dimly lit the University's coffee shop. The air was oddly smokey, despite the fact that no one was smoking. Perhaps it was the perspiration that evaporated off of the trombone player's brow.
She sat in the crowd, pretending to work on homework. But her true focus was on him. He stood, shy yet confident, as he waited for his solo. She was on the edge of her seat.
Sitting in a cozy grey sweater and chewing on her lower lip, she watched him. His face was slightly pink from blowing into his trombone. And she wanted to be the one to blow him.
She tried to drink a hot Peach Cobbler tea to lower her body temperature, but she missed her mouth, spilling the tea all over her front.
He noticed her from a distance and watched as the tea spilled down her chest. In a rush of panic, he immediately jumped down from the stage, grabbed a handful of napkins and sprinted to her aid.
He gently pressed the napkins to her sternum.
"Oh that's alright. I can do that myself." She said breathlessly.
"It's no trouble, my little B sharp." He whispered in her eye.
She felt hot all over as he walked back to the stage. She knew that she would never be the same.
YOU ARE READING
The Trombone ~Player~
ChickLitNot only does he play the trombone, he also plays with her heart. She's a marketing major, and she's in the market for a new man. He's a trombone player, with nothing else to do except write music and break hearts.
