The classroom was empty and dark when I arrived, but the door was open, so I switched on the fluorescent lights and found a desk. After a few minutes of staring at my saxophone in silence, I lay my head on the desk, wishing I had had enough time this morning for another cup of tea. Mondays were always the worst, because it meant that I was just beginning to come to terms with the way I spent my weekend – namely thinking about him, and wishing he were still here. I couldn't help it.
I looked up when I heard the sound of shoes in the doorway, and my half-hearted gaze was met with the smile of someone I had never seen before – but already looked forward to seeing every day. My new teacher was young, barely a few years older than myself, and had the sunniest smile I had ever seen. I rose from the desk and extended my hand, offering him a small smile in greeting.
"Hello, I'm Edward Cullen," he introduced himself, grasping my hand firmly. His hands were warm and smooth, and I nearly cried from the loss when he let go.
"Let's get started, shall we?" He asked, opening his own case and assembling the instrument inside. I did the same, gently placing the reed on my tongue while I worked.
"You'll want to take it deeper than that," he remarked casually – too casually – with a glint in his eye. I nearly swallowed the reed in shock, and turned a bright shade of pink. He chuckled, and pulled up a chair next to mine.
"So. The saxophone – you've played clarinet, correct?" I nodded, and he continued. "Similar, but not quite the same. The fingering is slightly different, and you'll want to take the mouthpiece in farther when you're playing, otherwise your notes will squeak, if you can even hit them. Now, lets get this tuned, shall we?" He instructed me on which notes to play, and mimicked them, adjusting the mouthpieces accordingly.
"Hear the difference? Now see, I'm going to pull out a bit, you go a bit deeper, and that should sound about right." I nodded, and continued tuning, but without heart. I was far too busy being distracted by the man immediately to my left.
After tuning, Mr. Cullen began to instruct me on fingering, and I had to fight back a blush. He positioned my fingers appropriately, and then placed his hands directly over mine as I played. Every time my fingers would leave a key too far, he would gently push them back into place, and my breath would catch – reflecting in the slightest of squeaks from my instrument.
"Relax your mouth. I can tell already that you're one of those people that tense up when you're frustrated, and then just explode. Relax." He had that glint in his eye again. This gorgeous, sunny, playful man knew exactly what his words, and his pale forearms were doing to me – and he was enjoying each and every moment of it, despite the fact that we had only been acquainted and hour and a half ago. I had always been envious of people like that; they could walk into a room and make anyone feel comfortable. While I could handle social interactions, I'd be much happier to avoid them altogether – but people like him thrived on them.
"Well, until tomorrow then, kiddo?" Mr. Cullen remarked, rising and glancing at the clock. School would start in about ten minutes. In that instant, I rescinded every time I had wished for a "normal" high school experience. As a senior, talent aside, I had always resented my instrument lessons before school. My mother had insisted back in Phoenix, and Charlie wasn't one to go against the grain. First, it was piano; when I showed promise at that, violin, clarinet after that, and finally saxophone. I complained, but I knew this was my only shot at paying for college. I had the grades, but I needed – needed – something to convince them that I was worth the scholarships too. Besides…even with the grades, Harvard didn't accept just anybody.
I finished packing up my belongings, and adjusted my sweater. I put on my "social butterfly face," and turned to face Mr. Cullen.
"Thank you very much for this morning. Please, don't hesitate to ask if I can do something for you – coffee, or whatever you would prefer. Really, I appreciate this." I finished with a prize-winning smile. He grinned back, and waved his hand.
"Please, it's a pleasure. I wish more of my students were like you." He gave me a friendly, cursory glace, and my breath caught. Holy shit… what was this man?
After my last class, I rushed out of the building, eager to get home. Home where, despite Charlie and his godforsaken habit of agreeing with my mother, I was allowed to be myself for just a little while.