Shutting the door, Henry wondered what had just happened.
He’d been minding his own business, and out of nowhere, a tornado in the form of Eliza Crosby had walked into his life.
When he first opened the door to her, he’d been annoyed by the interruption. For days, he’d been stuck on this one part of the song he was writing and hadn't played a note in that time, instead, stewing around his quiet apartment.
When he’d seen her–no make-up, golden brown hair in a messy bun piled on top of her head, skin-tight leggings and a tank top that he was pretty sure she didn’t have a bra on under–he thought for sure he was dreaming. But then she’d gone and asked him why the music stopped and that woke him up.
He had no idea that anyone could hear him playing his violin. When he rented the place a year ago, he’d been told that the walls were extra thick to combat high-rise living. Apparently, that didn’t include the floors and ceilings.
Walking back into his living room, he picked up one of the several violins he had scattered about. He kept them all out and placed around the apartment so that if anytime he felt the need, there was one within his reach. He had his favorites, of course, and his bows were all the exact same, but when inspiration struck, it didn’t matter to him which one he was playing.
His fingers slid up and down the strings as he thought of Eliza. Closing his eyes, he lifted the bow and began to play. His head swam with the image of her as the notes poured out of him. Her expressive blue eyes, the dimple in her left cheek when she smiled, and her long, delicate fingers that she drummed on the counter while she waited for her tea.
The notes came fast, his fingers barely able to keep up. When they finally came to an end, he was breathing heavy and sweat was dripping down his face and back.
He had to get this down on paper. In the past, he might have wondered if what he was writing was good but this, he knew this was good. Normally when he played, he had a recording going so he could play it back and listen. This time, because he hadn’t known he was going to play, he hadn’t hit start.
But he remembered every note.
They were burned into his memory just as she was.
At his computer, he compiled the notes he’d just played. When they were all down, he hit record and played them on the violin again. And then again. He played them three more times and then finally stopped and listened to the recording.
It was good.
Better than good.
After months of trying to find just the right notes, he’d found them. Thanks to her.
Eliza.
She was like a bright light at the end of a dark tunnel. Only he hadn’t known he’d been in a dark tunnel.
Pulling his laptop closer, he went to the internet and searched for Eliza Crosby. Her name showed up in articles that were about Nate Mackey and, of course, a Wikipedia page but those weren’t what he was interested in.
He clicked on images and there she was.
Dozens and dozens of pictures of her.
Some of her walking red carpets with Nate, some of her standing near him laughing and some of her alone. But what all of them had in common was that they were older. There were only a few that looked as if they could have been recent.
She hadn’t changed much over the years as far as he could tell.
Clicking back over to the articles, he found one from a couple of years ago where Nate talked about his manager.
“Eliza is my right-hand man...or woman...she keeps me on track and honestly, I would never be where I am today if it wasn’t for her.”
When the reporter asked about his love life, she again brought up Eliza.
“We are just friends, have always been just friends. I know it seems improbable to so many people that a man and a woman can be friends, but it’s the truth. I’ve known her since I was sixteen. And even then, I wanted nothing more from her than friendship. I was new at school and she took a chance on me. I owe her everything if I stop to think about it.”
Henry wasn’t one of those people who thought a man and a woman couldn’t be friends. His own agent, who was helping him shop his music around, was his best friend.
He and Sandra had met when she’d been the assistant to the director of a symphony he’d played in. They’d hit it off immediately and became fast friends. Two years ago, when he told her he wanted to write his own pieces, she offered to help. She knew a lot of people in the industry and could shop his work around easily enough.
So far nothing had been right.
But she was going to love this new stuff.
Composing an email, he attached the audio file of him playing and labeled it “Eliza”. Sandra was going to have a million questions, the first one being, “Who the hell is Eliza?”
And he didn’t have an answer for her.
His upstairs neighbor, his muse, a woman he couldn’t get out of his mind? All of those were true, but none of them did her justice. Because deep down, he knew she was going to be so much more to him.
He just hoped she was feeling the same way.
Two days later, he opened his front door to grab his newspaper. Stuck to his door was a Post-It Note.
Whatever you’ve been playing the last 2 days is magnificent. Keep it up.
Eliza
She’d heard him, and more, she liked it.
Smiling, he went back into his apartment and into his own office to find a Post-It Note.
Do you really like it? He scrawled in his chicken scratch before heading upstairs and sticking it to her door.
For the rest of the day, he alternated between playing and checking his door for another note from her. He lucked out in the late afternoon.
I am torn between wanting to cry and wanting to smile. It has so much emotional range.
Her words were exactly how he felt when he played the notes. Sadness encased in happiness. The sadness was how he’d felt before she walked into his life and the happiness was after.
I saw some pics of you online, but they’re all old. Why no new ones?
He had no idea why he asked that, but before he could chicken out, he took it up to her door.
An hour went by before he checked his own door again and to his surprise, she’d already answered.
Stalking me now, are you? A few years ago, I stopped going with Nathan to award shows and stuff. We both get so sick of answering the ‘are you together’ question.
For days, this was how they communicated. One would ask a question and the other would answer. It got to the point that there’d be a new Post-It on his door every hour.
When a knock sounded, he practically ran to open the door so he could see her. To his surprise, it wasn’t Eliza, instead, Sandra.
“What is this?” she asked, holding a Post-It Note.
He snatched it from her fingers. “Nothing. What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here?” She followed him inside. “You send me possibly the best thing my ears have ever heard and you ask what I’m doing here?”
He turned to look at her. “You like it?”
“Jesus, Henry, like is not even the word. I would have been here sooner, but I couldn’t stop listening to it. It’s gorgeous and goes straight to the heart.” She took a seat on his couch. “Who is Eliza?”
He’d known she would ask. The question was, how did he answer? “She lives upstairs.” He looked up to the ceiling that separated them. “One day, she came down and let me know she could hear me playing.”
“Was she pissed?”
“No.” He shook his head. “She loved it.”
“So you named it after her?”
“No. What you have heard is what I wrote after I met her.”
She leaned back, crossing one leg over the top of the other. “Okay, I think I get it now. You have a thing for her?”
“It’s not a thing.” He paced around the room. “Or I don’t know, maybe it is. I can’t get her out of my mind and every time I think of her, the music I make is…”
“Spectacular, from the sounds of it.”
“Do you really think so?”
“I do and so does Jacob. Funny thing is, after he heard it, he asked me if you were dating someone. Said it sounded like a man in love.”
He looked away from her. “I’m not in love with her. I’ve met her once.”
“And the note on the door. Is that from her?”
“It is. We’ve been exchanging notes.”
She laughed. “You are dating by Post-It Note? God, Henry, can’t you just ask her out like a normal person?”
“She’s not a normal person. She’s Nate Mackey’s manager.”
“Wait.” She sat up straight. “The woman who lives above you and who is apparently your muse, is Nate Mackey’s manager?”
“Manager by title, but according to her, more a Jack of all trades.”
“Fuck me,” she swore. “I love Nate Mackey. The man knows how to write a song.”
Henry took a seat in the leather recliner next to the couch. “I told her the same thing.”
“Wait until Jacob hears this. He loves Nate Mackey more than I do. When can I meet her?”
“You can’t. We aren’t dating. I don’t know what we’re doing, but I do know that her meeting you right out of the gate will not help my case.”
“That’s just selfish. If I was dating a superstar, I would absolutely let you meet him.”
“If you were dating a superstar, there would be a problem, since you are married. And I’m not dating Nate Mackey. Eliza is his manager.”
Her eyes lit up. “So you admit you are dating her?”
He realized his mistake. “I like her, okay? And yes, I’d like to take her out, but I have no clue if that will ever happen. In the meantime, I’m taking it slow.”
“With Post-Its?” Sandra shook her head. “I feel like somewhere along the way, you missed learning a few steps in life. The ones that taught you how to function in normal society.”
“Are we finished here? I’d like to get back to work.”
“I only came by to tell you that your new stuff is amazing and to see if I could shop it around. I think it could gain interest from a few people.”
“Do you want me to record a quality copy first?”
“No,” she stood, “the rawness of it is what makes it so good. Trust me.” She walked to the door. “Come to dinner soon. Jacob misses you and he’s definitely going to want to hear about Eliza.”
“I’ll come to dinner, but there’s nothing to tell.”
“Maybe by then, there will be.” She kissed his cheek before opening the front door. “Oh look, another love note.”
He snatched it before she could. “Go home, Sandra.”
Shutting the door on her laughter, he looked down at the note in his hand.
I guess that means no.
That made no sense. And then he remembered the first note from when Sandra had knocked. Pulling it from his pocket he read it.
Lunch? I’m great at ordering in.
She wanted to have lunch. With him.
Holy shit. Yes, he wanted to have lunch. Not stopping to think about anything, he left his apartment and ran up the stairs to hers. His knock was harder than it needed to be, but he wanted to make sure she heard him.
When it opened, she stood before him, a smile on her face. “Took you long enough.”
“I’m sorry. My friend stopped by and I didn’t have a chance to look at your first note.”
She was looking at him oddly. “You know that you’re not wearing shoes, right?”
He looked down. “Fuck.” How had he walked out of his apartment and up to hers without realizing he had no shoes on? “I’m gonna go bury myself in the deepest hole I can find now.”
“No!” she reached out, touching his arm as she laughed. “Please come in. It’s no big deal. Actually, yesterday when I delivered one of my notes, I forgot to put on shoes.”
He was trying to listen but couldn’t comprehend everything she’d said because she was touching him. One little touch of her fingers and he was in another world.
Slowly, he walked into her apartment. The place was laid out the same as his but hers felt homier. She’d obviously put in a lot of work decorating it, whereas he’d ordered a few essentials online. “You’ve done a lot with this place in a short amount of time.”
“Actually, it took months. I bought the place almost six months ago and took my time decorating it. Nathan was still on tour and I’d promised him that I’d stay until the end, so there was no hurry.”
It made him laugh that she called Nate Mackey, Nathan. She’d told him in one of the notes that all his friends and family from before he was famous called him that. They knew him as Nathan, not Nate.
“I should have you do mine. I’ve lived there for a year and barely have anything.”
“When you find things you like, you’ll add them. Until then, you have everything you need.” She was in her kitchen, which somehow looked bigger than his. “What would you like for lunch? We have many choices.” She spread a bunch of menus out in front of her.
“Have you ever had the soup from Murphy’s?”
She pushed a few menus around and then held one up. “You mean this Murphy’s? I love this place. They make the best chicken tortilla soup I’ve ever tasted.”
Of course, she liked the same soup as him. The universe was definitely trying to tell him something. “I know. I eat it at least twice a week.”
“Murphy’s it is then.” She pulled her laptop, which was at the end of the counter, closer. “What do you want?”
“The chicken tortilla soup and a half club sandwich.”
She looked up. “I get the same thing.”
He gave a small shrug. “Pretty popular order, if I had to guess.” He didn’t think that at all but wasn’t about to vocalize it.
She placed the order online and then closed her laptop. “What can I get you to drink? I have water, Coke, lemonade and, of course, tea.”
“Lemonade sounds good. I’m not sure I can remember the last time I had lemonade.”
“Nathan’s mom used to make it all the time. Like the real stuff from real lemons and I kinda got into the habit of doing the same.”
“Are you close with his parents?”
“I am. I see them a lot more than I see my own parents. I’ve never met two people who supported their child the way they did. From the time I met them, they knew that Nathan wanted to write and sing songs and they never once doubted him or pushed him in another direction. My own parents were not happy when I switched majors to be his manager. They thought it was a stupid pipe dream and that I’d end up penniless and in rehab.”
“What do your parents think about it now?”
“They are happy for me, I guess, but they still think the bottom could drop out at any minute. And they hate that I spend all my time with Nathan when I should be ‘married with kids’.” She used air quotes on the last part. “What about your parents? Are you close?”
“They’re divorced, but I’m still close with both of them. My mom lives in France now which makes it hard to see her, but we talk a lot. And my dad is in New York.” He thought about leaving the next part out but figured if anyone should know and not care, it would be her. “He is the conductor of the New York Philharmonic.”
She paused, a glass of lemonade halfway to her mouth. “You asshole. I told you the day we met that I worked for Nate Mackey and all this time, you were keeping your dad a secret? That’s not cool.”
“I wasn’t keeping him a secret. I’ve just gotten in the habit of not telling people who he is. I don’t want to be judged based on his accomplishments. I want what I get to be because I am good enough. It’s why I go by my mom’s last name and not his.”
“I guess I can understand that. I used to hate thinking that people only thought I only worked for Nathan because we were friends. After a while, when I realized that he’d perish without me, I stopped caring so much. Even now, though, I don’t always tell people what I do right away.”
“You told me.” He held her gaze, loving how the blue changed from second to second.
“Yeah, that was out of the ordinary for me. I’m not sure why, but it felt...right.”
He’d never been a guy who women looked at and drooled over or the type who inspired fantasies. He knew who he was, and those were not it. He wasn’t sure, though, how Eliza saw him. Did she see the goofy guy who was so inept that he forgot to put on shoes or did she see the musician who understood complexities of notes and sound? Could she tell that he lusted after her or did she think they were friends?
This was his chance to ask her out. Then he’d know what she was thinking. “Eliza, I was wondering...would you like to go to dinner with me?”
She looked up from where she was stacking the menus. “Tonight?”
“Or any night, really.” He wondered if he sounded like an idiot. This was so out of his comfort zone.
“Are you asking me out on a date?”
“I am, but if you wanted to just be friends, we could do that too.” Now why’d he have to go and say that?
She laughed. “Henry, what do you think this is? I asked you to lunch as a date.”
“This is a date?”
She bit her bottom lip. “I wanted it to be.”
He swallowed, and for the first time, realized that she was just as awkward as he was when it came to all this dating stuff. “That takes a lot of pressure off my date, then. The first date is where you have the first kiss. The second date is more fun.”
She smiled. “So basically, today is all stress and sweaty palms and tonight is relaxed and happy?”
Tonight. She wanted to go out that night. “I mean, yeah, that’s pretty much it.” They were both smiling like idiots. “Although, the kiss, that could definitely be fun.” He’d been thinking about kissing her since she’d first knocked on his door.
“Maybe we should...get it out of the way early. Take away all the anticipation.”
He watched as she swallowed and her hands fidgeted in front of her on the counter. He’d never been good at this. Being seductive was not one of his best qualities. But for Eliza, he’d try. Moving around the counter to where she stood, he stopped a foot from her.
She looked up, her blue eyes shining. “I’m so bad at this. You’d think I’d be better after hanging around a bunch of dudes for years who hit on anything that moved.”
He laughed. “You think I’m good at this? I’m a music geek. It’s all music all the time with me.” This whole situation was surreal but so was everything about how they’d been interacting the last week. He reached out, running his fingers down her arm. “I like you, Eliza. You intrigue me. You’re the reason my music has been so good this week. I think of you and the notes just pour out of me.” He shook his head, not believing that he was spilling his guts like this.
He felt pressure on his chest and looked down to see her hand pressed there. “You’re writing...because of me?” The wonder in her voice had him shuffling closer.
“You walked out of my apartment that day and as soon as I picked up a bow, the notes were there. And every day since, when I open my door to a Post-It, it’s the same.”
Seconds ticked by as she searched his eyes. In hers, he saw confusion, surprise, and heat.
He acted on the last one.
When his lips touched hers, sparks flew. Her lips tasted like peppermint, which he knew was from her favorite tea, making him badly want to bite down on one, but thought better of it. She tempted and teased him with her mouth closed until finally letting his tongue inside to taste her fully.
When his glasses started digging into his face, he pulled back, pushing them up to the top of his head, before grabbing her again. A tiny moan escaped her mouth as his lips touched hers and that only made him hungrier for her.
Her hands were both fisted in the front of his shirt and he knew she was on her toes to make up for their height difference. He had one arm around her waist and badly wanted to pull her in closer to his body. But this was the first kiss. There would be plenty of time for that later.
He hoped.
He loosened his arm from her waist and stepped back just a few inches, grazing his lips with hers one last time. He felt her fists unclench and her palms smooth down his shirt.
“Wow,” she said, bringing one hand to her swollen lips.
“Good wow, or ‘I can’t believe he just did that’ wow?”
He saw a smile appear behind her hand. “Definitely a good wow. Probably should be a great wow.”
He relaxed a little, which was hard to do when he had a semi-hard erection trying to get out. “I’m not sure having that out of the way is going to make a second date any easier. Or the rest of this date. Now all I’ll be thinking about is doing it again.” His hands were already itching to reach out and touch her again.
The only thing that would be better than touching her would be if he had his bow and violin. With only one little kiss, he could already create a whole symphony.
“I think you’re right.” She laughed and took several steps back. “Maybe we should have saved that for the end of the date. Might have made lunch less awkward.”
“Probably would have been smarter.” He couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was so gorgeous now with her swollen lips and her rosy cheeks. He loved that he’d made her look this way.
Somehow, after only knowing her a few days and spending less than an hour in her presence, he knew that she was part of his future.