I'm an Asshole, Baby.

If God is a just and noble God—then he’ll strike me down right now. I wanted to run and hide, but there was nowhere to hide. However, the studio’s front door was still in my sight. I could possibly make a run for it.

“Thanks,” he murmured slipping the beanie back onto his head. “You look like a hobbit squattin’ down there you know.”

I quickly stood tall.

His nostrils flared as his face turned into a grimace. I couldn’t help my eyebrows from furrowing as his head kept turning in different directions looking around. “Something smells like fish.”

No one truly knows when they’re blushing. But at this moment I knew I had to be. “It is fish—it’s bass.” I blurted out quickly.

“You brought fish?” he queried, his eyebrow rose.

“Yes—well, not intentionally. I went to Chinatown to get out the house because my roommate was a handful.”

I, am a blubbering and rambling fool. I could kick myself—I really could.

“Is your roommate the one I met at the club?”

I nodded. “That’s the one.”

He nodded to himself. “She was cute,” he turned his hands and attention back to the piano. “Drunk, but cute.”

I stood there quietly as he began to play once again. His large fingers pressing onto each key, his eyes closed, completely shutting out everything else around him. It was as if a different person was sitting in front of me. And, perhaps my eyes were deceiving me, but, I could almost see a faint smile. It looked as if he was happy—genuinely happy.

“Why’d you run out of the club?”

His finger slipped and a foul and sour note played. He turned to look at me. “I didn’t run anywhere.” His hands hovered over the keys, ready to play once again.

“Was that your girlfriend who you came to the club with?” I asked before he could play a note.

He turned his head to look at me once more. “Maybe--Why?” he smirked as he shifted his body around. “Jealous?”

My eyes narrowed as my cheeks puffed out, my hands on my hips. “No,” I stated. “But that little dance number we did was incredibly inappropriate if she’s your girlfriend. You should be ashamed.”

“Well, I’m not,” he said. “So it’s a good thing she’s not my girlfriend.”

“She’s not?”

He snorted as he shifted his body around again. “Fuck no. Toast has more personality than she did. You’re not even as boring as she was,” he glanced at me quickly. “And that’s saying something.”

I grumbled low in my throat, annoyance beginning to flow through me. “You do know that’s insulting regardless of your comparison.”

“Yep.” He didn’t even look up.

His hands moved across the keys, playing and ignoring me once again. I found myself humming along to the song, I recognized it. My fingers tapped on my thigh along to the rhythm and my humming.

“Your humming is very distracting.”

He had stopped playing and was looking at me now. “I know that song-- Zbigniew Preisner.”

“That’s the composer, not the song.”

My hands gripped my hips as I glared at him. “10 Easy Pieces for Piano.”

His mouth quirked into a smirk. “Which one?”

“Number 4.” I answered, triumphantly flicking my hair over my shoulder for added affect.

His hands came together for two claps. “Not bad, Robinson—not bad.”

His hands hovered over the piano, readying to play again. “When did you learn to play?”

He groaned as his hands fell onto the piano, making loud and crazy notes sound off. I was being a pain, and very personal. Both very surprising to myself, but, he was so infuriatingly interesting. And this would be my only chance to ask questions.

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“If you never ask you’ll never know.” I retorted.

“Ever heard of ‘don’t ask don’t tell’?”

“That pertains to homosexuals in the army. Are you gay, Xavier?” Now it was my turn to smirk.

However he only laughed as he fixed the beanie on his head. “Take your clothes off and we’ll see.”

I stopped smirking. My jaw slackened as I felt heat rise into my cheeks. Xavier grinned, probably tallying off another witty victory inside his head. He turned his attention back toward the piano then sighed as his head dropped slightly.

“You’re not gonna leave are you?”

“It’s a free country.”

“Y’know, this could be considered as harassment.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’d be harassment if I touched you or continuously stalked you.”

“Do you?” he questioned, eyebrow raised.

I mimicked his movement, raising my own eyebrow. “Do I what?”

“Wanna touch and harass me.”

I gasped.

He laughed and shook his head. “Lighten up, sweetheart,” He scooted to the right on the bench and gazed up at me. Rolling his eyes he said. “You might as well sit down. You look like some creep just standin’ over me.”

I huffed but sat down regardless, setting my bag of items on top of the piano, but Xavier’s hand flashed into view and snatched the bag down. “I’m not gonna have fish in my face while I’m playing,” He dropped the bag onto the floor. “Don’t worry your fish is fine—it’s dead.”

Pause.

“Ya know, you didn’t answer my question though.”

“You didn’t answer mine.” I retorted.

He pursed his lips for a moment. “Alright,” he turned to look at me, a grin on his face. “Show me just how well you know that song and I’ll answer any question you want.”

I blinked. “What?”

He motioned his head toward the piano in front of us. “Play with me—the song.”

“What?”

“What're you a handi-capped owl? It’s simple, play the song with me and I’ll answer your questions.”

“No tricks?” I narrowed my eyes at him.

He held his hands in mock surrender. “No tricks. Cross my heart and everything.”

I held my gaze for a moment but finally said. “Fine, it’s a deal.” I licked over my lips as my fingers ghosted over the piano’s keys.

“While I’m still young y’know.” He whispered beside my ear, that semi-close contact making it even more difficult to concentrate.

“Shut-up.” I muttered. He only laughed. After another moment, I finally pressed my finger to a key.

Slowly, but surely, beginning the song. After a few more notes, I relaxed. I truly did love this song; it was one of the few I had learned to play. My eyes fluttered closed and I began getting lost in the song. Keys that I myself weren't hitting began to play, and I snapped open my eyes to glance over at Xavier whose eyes were solely trained on the keys as he played alongside me.

I should’ve probably been looking at the keys as well. But I couldn't help but to stare at Xavier’s face and hands. His hands looked so soft as he played, he played so gracefully and his face was at peace.

I could see his eyes shift ever so slightly, looking at me from the corner of his eye. I quickly turned and put my head down, shutting my eyes closed once again. I pictured him smirking right now. I shoved that image out of my head as I concentrated on not missing a note.

I’d never live that down, I thought as I continued pressing keys. We continued playing in synch, the song seeming more beautiful and intimate since two people were playing. We were nearing the end of the song when—

I stopped playing, as did he when our hands came into contact, my eyes quickly opening. “I’m sorry.” I blurted.

“That wasn’t so bad.”

“It wasn’t?”

“You didn’t hit any wrong keys, right?” he queried.

I mentally blew a sigh of relief. He was referring to my playing, not us touching. “Right.” I smiled.
He began standing up from the bench. “Not bad at all.”

“Wait a second,” I called out, and without thinking, reached out to touch his arm. I quickly recoiled my hand as if I had been burnt. “You—you have to answer my questions.”

“We didn’t finish the whole song,” he retorted, a smirk or maybe a grin played around on the corners of his mouth. He slipped on his jacket which he had been sitting on. “I said I’d answer your questions if we played the song. Not half.”

Oh now he was smirking. I couldn’t hold back the glare I was giving him, however it didn’t even faze him. He shoved his hands in the front of his pockets. “Maybe next time, Sammy.”

He walked toward the studio’s front door, but paused once he reached it and turned around to look at me. “13,” he said. I scrunched my eyebrows together. “I was 13 when I first learned to play.”

He walked out the door afterward. And I sat there, now grateful that God hadn’t struck me down earlier. My cell phone began blaring Katy Perry’s ‘peacock’, and I smiled at the realization that it was Dawn’s ringtone. I swiped my thumb across its screen answering the call.

“Hello—“

“What if I died while you were out!? What if a burglar came in!? I have a hangover, I can’t defend myself!” she yelled.

“Hello Dawn.”

“Where are you!?”

My free hand stroked the piano’s keys. “Nowhere—look, I’ll be on the trolley and home in no time. I got you some stuff.”

The only thing I heard next was a gleeful squeal and all I could do was roll my eyes. “Hurry up and get your ass here.”

“I love you too, Dawn.” I ended the call and stood up from the bench, grabbing my bag of items from the studio’s floor, and exited from Javi’s creative house—with a little extra spring in my step.