ELLE’S POV
The double doors of the music hall swung open with a dramatic creak that seemed to announce our arrival. I couldn't help but smile as Steven's eyes widened, taking in the grand piano that commanded the center of the room, gleaming under the soft overhead lights.
"This," I announced with a flourish of my hand, "is where the magic happens."
Steven let out a low whistle, his gaze traveling across the array of instruments lining the walls. "Not bad for a high school. My last school's idea of a music program was a couple of broken recorders and a tambourine missing half its jingles."
I laughed, the sound echoing in the empty room. "Well, Principal is a former concert pianist. Music gets special treatment here."
"Makes sense," Steven nodded, gravitating toward the piano like it was pulling him by some invisible force. His fingers hovered over the keys, not quite touching. "Is it okay if I...?"
"Go for it," I encouraged, hopping onto one of the nearby chairs. "Nobody's around. The next class isn't for another hour."
He slid onto the bench, adjusting his position with the practiced ease of someone who'd done this countless times before. When his fingers finally connected with the keys, the transformation was immediate.
The casual, slightly cocky new guy disappeared, replaced by someone completely absorbed in the music flowing from his fingertips.
I didn't recognize the piece—something classical with runs that seemed impossible to execute—but the way his hands danced across the keyboard was mesmerizing. I found myself leaning forward, drawn into the performance.
"That was..." I began when he finished, searching for the right words.
"Rusty," he completed with a self-deprecating grin. "Haven't practiced seriously in months."
"If that's rusty, I'm terrified to hear what you sound like in top form," I replied honestly. "Where did you learn to play like that?"
Steven's smile faltered slightly. "My mom was a piano teacher. Started me young."
I caught the past tense but decided not to push. Instead, I moved closer to the piano. "Think you could teach me something?"
"You don't play?" he asked, scooting over on the bench to make room.
I shook my head as I sat beside him. "I sing. Piano has always been Noah's thing, and he's not exactly the sharing type."
"Noah?" Steven raised an eyebrow.
"You'll meet him soon enough," I sighed. "He's the music program golden boy. Thinks he owns this piano."
"Sounds delightful," Steven smirked. "So, what do you want to learn? 'Chopsticks'? 'Heart and Soul'?"
I gave him a playful shove. "Please. Give me some credit."
"Alright then," he chuckled, positioning my fingers over the keys. "Let's start with something you can sing to."
His hand covered mine, warm and steady as he guided my fingers through a simple progression. "This is the chorus of 'Vienna' by Billy Joel. Know it?"
I nodded, recognizing the melody immediately. Steven played the introduction, then nodded for me to join in. Hesitantly at first, I began to sing, my voice finding its footing alongside his playing.
"Slow down, you crazy child. You're so ambitious for a juvenile..."
As the song progressed, I grew more confident, letting my voice fill the room. Steven's playing adjusted perfectly to my tempo, supporting rather than leading. It felt different from rehearsing with Noah, who always insisted on rigid adherence to his interpretation.
"Vienna waits for you," I finished, letting the final note hang in the air.
"Damn, Elle," Steven murmured, his eyes fixed on me with newfound appreciation. "You've been holding out. Your voice is incredible."
Heat rushed to my cheeks. "It's just something I do for fun."
"No, seriously. You have serious pipes. We should—"
A sharp, deliberate throat-clearing cut through our moment. I didn't need to turn around to know who it was; the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees instantly.
"Having fun?" Noah's voice was arctic, each syllable dripping with disdain.
I turned slowly, plastering on my brightest smile. "Noah! Hey! This is Steven, he's going to be in the competition with me. Steven, this is Noah, who I was just telling you about."
Steven extended his hand. "Nice to meet you."
Noah ignored the gesture completely, his cold gaze locked on Steven's position at the piano—his piano, in his mind. "You're at my desk."
"Your desk?" Steven echoed, confusion evident in his voice as he glanced at the piano.
I jumped in quickly. "Noah's the head of the music program. He usually practices during this period."
"So?" Steven asked, making no move to get up. "Does that make him the owner?"
The tension in the room thickened to something almost tangible. Noah's jaw tightened, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the leather portfolio he always carried.
"Look, I don't know how things worked at whatever school you crawled from," Noah said with deadly calm, "but here, we have a structure. A hierarchy. And when someone has reserved practice time, you respect it."
Steven's casual demeanor shifted subtly. The easygoing smile remained, but something sharper entered his eyes. "Funny, I don't see a reservation sign. Last I checked, this is a school instrument. Public property."
"Hey, who the hell do you think you are?" Noah took a step forward, the muscles in his neck visibly straining.
I couldn't believe what was happening. Noah was always intense about his music, but this level of hostility was unprecedented. Was he actually going to start a fight over piano time? Over me showing a new student around?
"Okay, time out!" I jumped up, physically inserting myself between them. "This is ridiculous."
Noah's gaze flickered to me, and for a split second, I caught something beneath the anger—something that looked almost like hurt. But it vanished so quickly I wondered if I'd imagined it.
"Elle," he said, voice tight, "we have a class to prepare for. The showcase is in three weeks."
I felt Steven's eyes on me, assessing my reaction. Part of me wanted to stay, to defuse this bizarre standoff properly. But another part—the part that was tired of walking on eggshells around Noah's moods—wanted to make a point.
I reached for Steven's arm, giving it a gentle tug. "Come on, let's go."
Steven rose slowly, never breaking eye contact with Noah as he did. The two of them were nearly the same height, creating a perfect storm of matched stubbornness.
"Elle," Noah called as we reached the door, his voice commanding. "Come back here. We have a class."
I halted, my hand on the doorknob. Looking back over my shoulder, I saw Noah standing rigidly by the piano, his territory reclaimed but his victory hollow. Then I glanced at Steven, who waited silently, leaving the choice entirely up to me.
In that moment, something shifted.
"Never mind," I said, surprising even myself with the steadiness in my voice. "Steven will teach me elsewhere."
Without waiting for Noah's reaction, I pushed through the doors, pulling Steven with me.