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“Do you realise this would be easier if you too were on piano brain?”
“You mean I should eat Holly Hunter or what?” Seeing Lowell’s blank expression, Liv added, “Next time you’re on a romantic brain, we’re so watching period dramas. Starting with The Piano, ending up with lots of shirtless Colin Firth. Oh, yes.”
“But I’m on romantic brain!” Lowell protested. “I’m teaching you how to play Zombie Love Song by Your Favorite Martian. The situation couldn’t be any more romantic!”
“Yeah, whatever. Show mama those tabs, big boy.”
“Are you sure you aren’t on MILF brain?”
“Oi! Watch your mouth!”
“Or what? You make me kiss my mama with it?”
They were dangerously close—to each other and to forgetting about the whole piano lesson. In the last second, before they could lose themselves in frantic kissing, Liv pulled back.
“Focus!”
They made it to the end of the first verse; something none of them expected to actually happen.
“Good. Now try again, from the beginning.”
“With my eyes closed?”
“No.”
“With the lights off?”
“No.”
“With a candelabra on the piano?”
“No.”
“I see you put the ‘no’ in ‘piano’, smart-ass.”
With a swift move, Lowell put his arm around Liv’s waist and pulled her close, until she was half-sitting in his lap.
“If that’s how you talk to your teacher—”
“Yes?”
“—I’ll have to shut you up.”
Piano lesson momentarily forgotten, he captured her lips in a passionate kiss, hugging her close with both of his arms. Since the position appeared slightly uncomfortable in the long run, Liv rearranged her limbs until she was straddling Lowell, trapping him between her knees. (An arrangement even Hamlet would have called a “fair thought”.) Soon she was running her fingers through his hair with more enthusiasm than she had been pressing the piano keys.
When they slipped down from the seat and ended up under the piano in the heat of their make out session, Lowell broke from his trance for a second and asked, “Weren’t we in the middle of something?”
“We are in the middle of something.”
Olivia Moore never learnt to play the piano.
