It's You, I Suppose

Adjusting my tie and patting down my hair in the mirror was merely a distraction. It was all I could do not to turn around and stare at the beautiful trumpet player talking to Mr. Hayes, the band director, several feet behind me. 

I wouldn't have needed to be in the same room as her if  my choir director hadn't decided to have her baby just two days before our Christmas concert. If she trusted us seniors to warm up the choir and have everything organized...

Okay, truth is, I wouldn't have trusted us either.

As it were though, both the band and choir students were all packed into the band rehearsal room awaiting further instruction. I checked the big clock in the corner. Twenty minutes until show time.

Luke came to stand beside me. He nodded towards Ella, who was still urgently talking to Mr. Hayes. I reluctantly looked in her direction and noticed instantly how she death gripped her silver trumpet. 

"She's nervous," Luke and I said at the same time. We looked at each other for a moment, each carefully weighing our next move. I looked into his honest face and remembered how we had been best friends since the first grade.

I would never let a girl come between us. Not even one as amazing as my Ella.

Except, she wasn't mine, I thought, shaking my head. She will never be yours, and you know that.

"You ok?" Luke asked, his tone almost aggressive. Nodding, I knew I had to be more careful around him from now on. The look in his eyes told me that I needed to back off, and even as my heart told me not to, I knew it was what was best for me...and Ella.

Speaking of the angel...

Ella walked up to us, giving me a weary look, and Luke put an arm around her. "You ok, beautiful?" he asked, and she nodded. 

"You know it's just my nerves," she told him, and then she looked at me, her blue eyes more brilliant than ever against the black of her dress. Her and I hadn't talked much in the last couple of weeks, but I saw everything, an entire year's worth of conversation, in that one short look.

"To the stage people!" Mr. Hayes ordered the sea of students surrounding him. Luke gently grabbed hold of Ella's hand and carefully handled his trombone in the other. I bit my lip, debating whether I should stop her and say something. Taking one look at their intertwined hands, I knew the one and only thing I could say.

"Ella!" I called, and she turned, her eyes brighter than the Christmas star ever could have been.

"Yes?" She asked, her voice lifting with the slightest hint of hope. 

"Good luck on your solo," I rushed the words, "You'll do amazing."