Beneath his hands, her fingers were warm and long for her height, as if she were a puppy and would soon see a growth spurt. Gavin liked all of the ways otherwise-small Delilah was surprisingly big. He realized his fingers were running up and down her arm and stepped back to let her learn.
“Stay close like that,” she said quietly, still staring down at the keys.
He returned to her, aligning his front against her back, and she leaned her head against his chest as she let Piano teach her. She laughed every now and then, made goofy sounds when she messed up or little shouts of victory every time Piano moved on to a new chord. It seemed like she was having fun, and the lights brightened and the room warmed to perfect, and Oven began baking something so the entire house smelled like warm sugar and chocolate. Gavin kissed her hair and wondered if House had the ability to freeze time and hold this moment in reverb for an entire week.
His heart seemed to grow three sizes too big for his body when Delilah looked over her shoulder at him, lips all ripe fruit and teasing and her smile a little dangerous. He was pretty sure he didn’t want to have sex inside House, but in the moment, he could probably be convinced.
But instead of stretching and kissing him, she asked, “Do you know how to dance?”
He shook his head, both relieved and disappointed.
“That’s okay,” she said, turning in his arms. “I do.”
Chapter Thirteen
Her
Music filled the rooms, bounced off the walls and seemed to fill every dark corner. The piano didn’t stop playing for hours as Gavin spun her around the floor, his hands on her waist, his fingers pressing into the exposed skin just above her skirt.
Delilah liked the way that Gavin held her almost too tightly. He was never really careful with her, not the way her family seemed to be or her friends were, back at her old school, considering every word before they said it, treating one another as if they were made of blown glass.
She wondered if Gavin had ever laughed this much, and she watched as he fell into one of the dining room chairs, eyes bright, cheeks flushed and rosy. His perfect bow of a mouth curved up into a mischievous smile, close enough to kiss whenever she wanted.
“You do know how to dance,” he said, reaching up to push his mess of dark hair from his eyes.
“I’ve never really been allowed to dance before,” she said, breathless. “Not unless you count Saturday square dancing at Saint Benedicts.”
“You didn’t have dances with other schools?” he asked, incredulous.
“Well, okay,” she said after a moment. “We had a few. But the boys at Saint Joseph’s were even worse off than us. Imagine being sixteen and the only real chance you had to interact with girls your age was supervised by a bunch of crotchety old nuns.”
“Sounds like a recipe for a lot of awkward groping,” he agreed. Gavin settled back into the chair, stretching his long legs and black Converses in front of him. A small serving tray rolled along the floor with a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses sitting neatly on top. The ice sloshed noisily inside as the table rolled to a stop at his side.
Delilah was positive she would never get used to this. Outside, snow had begun to fall, dusting everything in white. Every once in a while the trees would quake from the tops of the leaves to the lowest branches, shaking off any flakes that had accumulated there. Delilah laughed when she saw this, thinking of the way Nonna’s old shepherd would do the same thing after a bath.
“How could any other house ever compare?” she asked innocently.
Gavin opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a sudden and resounding clang from the piano, as if someone had brought their fists down over several keys at once. He jumped as the hinged lid slammed shut over the keys, the force so great it vibrated the strings inside.
Delilah blinked into the ringing silence, her eyes darting between Gavin and the piano.
“I guess it was tired of playing,” he said. He crossed the room and took her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. “Piano has always been a bit temperamental.”