Work Text:
Petra hated her life.
Okay no, she didn’t. She just hated almost every choice that lead up to this one moment.
Because if the trumpet player in the back row didn’t stop trying to hit that high F, Petra was going to slam the piano lid on her head…or theirs, whichever made her feel better.
The only reason she was currently sitting at the piano in the University’s tiny ass band room, was because Professor Lawrence had practically begged her to fill in for their usual pianist who had fallen ill. She had agreed, thinking it wouldn’t be too bad. Oh lord, but she was contemplating murder.
“GABY! Please, I can’t tune when you’re doing that!”
One of the clarinet players had stood from her chair and addressed the trumpet player, Gaby.
Petra followed the girl’s glare to the tall looking girl in the back row. At least she had the decency to look slightly abashed.
“Sorry, Trish. Willa bet me I couldn’t hit the F, so I’m trying to prove her wrong.”
One of the flute players, Willa if Petra had to stab a guess, turned and glared at Gaby as well.
“No, I said ‘Gabrielle don’t try and hit the high F’ and you said ‘Don’t tell me what to do Beckett’ and now you’ve been annoying the entire band room for the past ten minutes.”
Petra snorted a laugh, but quickly turned back to the keyboard, all too aware of the gazes she had attracted. Maybe if she just pretended to be studying her part, they would notice. Yeah that was a good plan.
The three eventually went back to their previous activities, minus Gaby’s obnoxious braps.
Petra waited for a minute before turning to examine the room.
There were maybe five or six other people in the room, warming up before rehearsal. Willa and another girl sat in the front row of chairs. The girl who had first snapped at Gaby sat in the row behind them, putting cork grease on the barrel of her clarinet.
Her shoulder-length red-blonde hair fell straight under a black knit cap. Blue-green eyes narrowed slightly as she fitted her reed to the mouthpiece and tightened the ligature.
Petra couldn’t seem to pull her gaze as the girl, Trish she thinks Gaby called her, placed the mouthpiece between her lips and played a few notes before pulling away with a frown, finding something wrong with her sound.
And Petra couldn’t help the sudden heat that flooded her cheeks when Trish pressed her tongue flat against her reed in a slow lick.
Oh wow, Petra could not be gayer if she tried.
She continued watching the clarinet player wet her reed for way longer than she really should have. In fact she didn’t even notice the rest of the band had come in along with the director.
Professor Lawrence took his place on the podium, taping his baton to get the students’ attention. However that wasn’t quite working, so he raised his voice to a yell.
“ALRIGHT GUYS-!”
Petra jerked her head away in surprise and managed to slam her hands down on the piano keys.
The resulting discordant noise silenced the room and drew everyone’s eyes to her with various startled and annoyed looks.
With wide eyes, Petra bit her lip, a blush brightening her tan cheeks. She met the professor’s confused look with a sheepish one of her own.
“Uh, oops?”
(~~~)
The rehearsal went by pretty quickly, Petra’s little outburst quickly forgotten.
As she was stuffing her music into her backpack, she felt a finger tap her shoulder.
The person the finger was attached to was none other than the trumpet player Gaby.
“I liked your solo there, chica. Very post-modern.”
Petra snorted and rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, thanks. Lawrence just startled me is all.” She huffed, sliding her backpack onto her shoulders.
Gaby smirked. “Ah yes, I saw. You seemed really interested in Patricia’s reed care.”
Petra’s eyes widened and her jaw gapped, trying to come up with some explanation to dismiss the obvious truth that she was staring at the clarinet player.
Gaby just laughed and shook her head.
“Easy, hermana. I don’t judge. Here.” Her smirk widened as she held out a folded piece of paper.
Petra eyed her warily, but took the paper, unfolding it. Her brown eyes widened as she saw the string of digits.
“What?” She huffed lightly as she looked back to Gaby with a question in her eyes.
Gaby backed up, headed out of the room with her hands raised.
“Oh, and she’s single by the way. Gayer than a rainbow at a pride parade, too. But, you didn’t hear it from me. Good luck, Wentz.”
And with that, the door shut behind her.