"Still mad at me?"

Cressida looked down at her phone during class and smiled. She knew he couldn't take it for very long. She put her phone away until class was over, both because it was rude to text during class and just to make him suffer a bit longer.

"I suppose I'm getting over it."

"Great! Can you come uptown? Please?"

"Okay. Be there in an hour."

She got off the subway and walked out into a day that had grown cloudy and damp with impending showers, from a morning of relative sunshine. People huddled in their coats and scarves, and umbrella sellers on the corners were doing a brisk trade with people who'd stepped out without one.

The lobby was deserted excepting the concierge, who tipped his hat at her in recognition.

Graham was waiting for her in the foyer with a bunch of flowers.

"Hello."

"Hello." Graham leaned in to kiss her, which she allowed. He handed her the flowers with a flourish, saying, "See? Yellow, your favorite color, Sweetiecie."

"Nice of you to get yourself flowers," she said drily.

"What do you mean, they're for you."

"They'll have to go in water in your room, they won't last long enough otherwise. What do you want me to do, carry a vaseful of flowers home on the subway?"

Graham considered. "Oh I see. Good point." He planted a kiss on her cheek. "Well, they'll remind me of you every time I see them, how's that?"

"I guess."

They got the flowers all squared away, then headed for the practice room. Soon the only sounds were of the piano, and in between, Cressida tapping away on her laptop.

He went through about twenty minutes of warm ups, scales and arpeggios that rang out, even with the lid closed. Once again, Cressida had to stop herself from just staring at his back as he worked.

Cressida noticed, after he started on the Rachmaninov, that he didn't play it all the way through, but rather one movement at a time, and out of order. He had a remote with which to work the sound system.

Eventually she stopped working altogether and started paying attention to him, to make sure she wasn't confused. After all, she didn't know the piece very well; maybe he was playing them in order? But no, she remembered him telling her that standard construction was a fast first movement, a slow second, and then a fast third to wrap things up, and he definitely wasn't playing them that way.

"Shouldn't you play the whole thing, all the way through?" she finally asked during one of the silences when he was just scowling at the music.

"Hm? What?"

"Shouldn't you play all three movements in order? From beginning to end."
Graham smiled at her. "You can tell I'm playing them out of order? Good for you, Cress!"

"Don't be condescending, even I know this piece a little bit, it's famous, you hear it everywhere. And you, sir, aren't playing the entire piece, just the movements, out of order."

Graham shrugged. "I thought it might help, you know? Sort of sneak up on it a little? Like drawing something upside down, so you don't know what you're drawing exactly, and it just becomes lines and angles."

"Would you play me something?" She hadn't asked this in a few weeks. "Postcards From Far Away?"

He turned back to the keyboard and played it, melting her, as he did every time he played it for her.

She rose and went to stand behind him, putting her arms over his shoulders and around his neck so she could bury her face in his hair.

Katherine walked in, and Cressida reluctantly released Graham, stepping back.

"Oh. Hullo, Cressida. Sorry to intrude, Graham, but I was wondering if you wanted to work on the piece some more?"

"He has been," Cressida said, perhaps more sharply than she intended.

"No, I meant with me. We've been working together, and he said it was helping him."

Graham turned to her. "Sure. Maybe you can tell me where I'm gong wrong in the theme repetition in the third movement."

She took a seat next to him as Cressida went back to sit on the couch once more.

"Okay, let's take it from here, then, shall we?"

She sounded like her mother, Cressida thought. She watched them sitting together on the bench, thighs touching, and felt a green flash of jealousy shoot through her, hot and uncomfortable.

Katherine was voluptuous and golden, like a huge, tawny cat, everything she herself wasn't. Today was no exception, with her hair in a thick braid, leather pants and what looked a raw silk sweater.

Cressida was wearing her NYU sweats and hoodie, and probably looked like a thirteen year old boy rather than a twenty-two year old woman.

"Well, your mom said that the repetition started here, but it sounds like you think it starts here," Graham was saying, leaning forward with his pencil.

"No, she's right, I'm just saying that your left hand needs to be stronger here, right before the pianissimo," she responded, leaning into him to point at the music.

Did she have to sit so close to him?

Cressida tried mightily to just concentrate on her own work, but she kept seeing things out of the corner of her eye, like when Katherine would put a hand on Graham's back to point something out, and then leave it there after, or when the weight of her breast was pushed into his forearm when she leaned into him.

He didn't do anything back to her, Cressida noticed, and he did finally move away, so there was an inch or so of space between them.

"I think this sounds really muddy, maybe you should play it staccato for the time being."

He was nodding. "You're a good teacher," he said, smiling at her.

Katherine smiled back, a warm, inviting smile. "Thank you, I think it's what I'm going into."

"Really?"

Katherine nodded. "It's pretty obvious I won't be good enough to perform, not with all the work in the world, and Hamilton offers a Master's program, so I think I'm going to enroll next fall."

"Well, I think it's your calling." He smiled at her again.

"We can't all be talented virtuosos like you, can we?" she asked, shaking her head.

"I don't know, sometimes I think it's just not worth it, you know? All the work, hours every day, for months on end, and no money to show for it?"

"No," Katherine objected. "The money will come later, you can't think like that. You're the most gifted pianist mummy and I have ever known. You can't give it up, you just can't."

And Cressida couldn't take anymore. "I agree with Katherine," she interjected. "You're amazeballs, Graham. I didn't know you were thinking of giving it up."

He turned to face her. "It's like I said, it depends on this competition. If I can win, it's like a sign I'm meant to go on, you know? If I don't win, it's time to get a job, and that kind of answers that.

It also depends on my hand."

"Your hand? I thought it was fine."

Graham made a seesaw motion with his hand. "It's a little more serious than I realized. It gets sore, especially the middle finger, where I connected really hard. If I play too long, it just, seizes up."

"Oh no, Graham." Cressida was appalled.

"I know. Just when I need to be working the hardest, it gives out. Like now, it's screaming Ave Maria at me." He held out his right hand, which was trembling slightly. "I can always just work on the left hand for a while, until the pain calms down."

"I think you just need a break. Let's go get some lunch, get out of the house for a couple hours," Katherine said. "Cressida too, of course."

"Actually, that sounds good. What do you say, Cress?"

"Sure, I could eat," she responded, rising. "Where are we going?"

"Star Diner? It's close, and the food's good," Katherine answered.

"Looks like it's raining," Graham noticed.

"Is it close? Can we walk?" Cressida asked. "I'll need to borrow an umbrella."

"Don't be an idiot, you can just snuggle under mine with me," Graham said with a grin. "I've got an oversized umbrella, anyway, we'll be fine."

They went out into the wet day and walked the couple blocks to the diner, into the steamy warmth with the smell of coffee and eggs.

"Remember when I put Tabasco all over your food while you were in the bathroom?" Katherine asked as they sat in their booth.

"And I came back and almost died? Yes, I remember," Graham said with a laugh. 

"You nearly killed me," Katherine said, sliding in next to Graham, leaving the other side for Cressida.

"Oh, sorry," Katherine said, sliding out and standing. "Force of habit." She gestured to the spot next to Graham. "Please."

So of course, Cressida had to demur, saying, "No, no, it doesn't matter at all."

"She's already sitting down, Kath, don't worry about it, we don't care."

"Okay, if you're sure." Katherine sat back down next to Graham.

"Besides, this way I get to look at her face all through lunch."

Cressida smiled at him.

"So you guys used to come here a lot?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Graham said, looking around.

"Hey, long time since I've seen you two here," the waiter said, grinning at Katherine and Graham.

"Arturo, how are you?" Graham responded easily.

"What'll you have?"

They ordered, with Graham ordering enough for two people, and as Arturo was leaving, he said, "Don't be such strangers, okay?" He turned to Cressida. "They're the most beautiful couple to ever come in here," he remarked. "Everyone said they looked like royalty. And no running off to the bathroom together like you did that one time, okay?"

He walked away, still chuckling.

"Oh god, Cress, I'm so sorry," Graham said, brows drawn with concern. "Maybe coming here wasn't such a good idea."

"No, it's okay, I'm fine," Cressida responded. "I know you guys dated, it's not a secret or anything."

"Well, that's very mature of you, thank you," Katherine said before taking a drink of her coffee. "It is ridiculous to tiptoe around it, isn't it?" She leaned on Graham's shoulder, resting her head for a moment. "And we've decided we're going to try to be friends as well."

Again, Cressida felt that spike of jealousy.

When had they decided to try to be friends? She thought Graham hated Katherine?

At least Graham had the good grace to look a little uncomfortable. Cressida didn't feel bad for him at all. He deserved it for putting her in this position.

Their food came, and it was indeed very good, as New York City diner food could be if a person found the right place. The table grew silent as they threesome concentrated on eating.

Graham, of course, finished his egg and sausage plate and eyed Cressida's food. "You finished with that, Cress?" he asked.

"Yeah, help yourself," she said pushing her plate across to him.

"Thanks."

"Remember when I was trying to feed you fries and made a mess of your face with the ketchup?" Katherine said.

"I think we can ease up on the reminiscing," Graham said firmly. "No need to rub her nose in it."

"I wasn't trying to rub anyone's nose in anything," Katherine said, hurt. "I just haven't been here in a long time, and it's bringing back memories, that's all." But she remained quiet for the rest of the meal.

After they got back to the apartment, Katherine headed for the practice room. "You're not finished for the day, are you?" she asked Graham. "You've hours more to do, I think."

"I'm tired, I'm going to go lie down for a while," Cressida said, covering a yawn. "Happy practicing."

"No, I think I'm done, at least for a while," Graham said. "Thanks for the help, though, Kath, it was great." And he, too, headed for his bedroom.

Once there, he fell on the bed, making Cressida bounce. He scooped her into his arm, pulling her close and kissing her gently. "Yum, you taste like fries."

"Eww," she responded. "And so do you, mister."

He continued to kiss her, hand on her chin, hooking a leg over her so there was no space between them. "I'm sorry about that, all of it," he murmured in between kisses.

And Cressida, who truth be told, was feeling a bit battered by the last couple hours, whispered, "Thank you. Let's not do that again, okay?"

Kiss.

Graham nodded.

Kiss.

"Okay. Okay, Sweetiecee."

Kiss.