Now that it was December and the competition was barely three weeks away, Graham ramped up his practicing even more, sometimes going as long as eight hours a day. The days grew shorter, the wind sharper, and the two young lovers grimly slogged through their days, seeing each other rarely.

"Please? Can you come?"

"I have two papers due this week, I don't have that kind of time. It's an hour to get there and an hour to get back, not to mention doubling my metro card usage. And I'm just not as productive when I'm there, even if I take my laptop. Can't you come here?"

"At a crucial place in my practice right now, can't take any time off."

"Call me?"

Cressida's phone rang, and she answered immediately.

"Hello? Who is this again?" Cressida teased.

"This is I love you, Cress."

"Oh yeah, I think I remember you. You're my boyfriend, right?"

"That's me."

Cressida sighed. "How are you?"

"Busy."

"Have you played the piece all the way through? Beginning to end?"

"Not exactly, but almost."

Cressida laughed. "How do you do that 'almost'?"

Graham laughed back. "I have my ways, don't worry. Prof says it's not that big a deal, that I will when I'm ready."

"Oh, well, if Prof says so. And how's your hand?"

"It's okay. I'm icing it every night to help with inflammation, and the Prof took me to see a specialist. She's still pretty mad at me about it."

Cressida had heard enough about Professor Thurman. "So when can we see each other?"

Graham paused. "Probably not until after the competition."

"What? That's nearly three weeks! And it's already been a week since we were together."

"I'm sorry, Sweetiecie, but the Prof thinks—"

"What about you? What do you think?"

"Look, she knows better than me, I think. And she's kind of right. When you're here, I just don't concentrate as well. I'm not as productive, as you said. You distract me. Even now, she'd have a fit if she knew I was talking to you on the phone. She thinks I'm resting, icing my hand."

"Well, you are icing your hand, I assume. Who cares what you do while you're icing it?"

"She does. I start talking to you, imagining what you're wearing or whatever, and I start missing you, wanting to see you, wondering how you did on your oral report—how did you do, by the way?"

"Got an A, no problem."

"Wonderful! So proud of you."

"Yeah, so let's celebrate. The world won't end if you take an evening off to see me, will it?"

Graham took a deep breath. "Cress, I can't, not until after the competition. Please understand."

"So this isn't just a possibility? You're saying that you for sure can't see me until December 21st?" Cressida was incredulous.

"Yes. I'm sorry, but that's just the way it is. Prof's rules."

"No. Graham, no, that's just not acceptable. She doesn't own you, for fuck's sake. You're a grown man, you can decide if you're going to take an evening off to see your girlfriend."

Graham tried manfully to control his temper. "No, I can't, why can't you understand that? She does own me, basically. I'm living in her house, rent free, getting lessons from her on pretty much a daily basis, again, for free, and she might even be able to extend the year in England for a second year. I have to do what she says." There was mumbling on Graham's end of the line, muffled, as though his hand was over the phone.

"Who's that?"

"Katherine, bringing me a fresh cold wrap for my hand."

"I could be doing that if you were here! Just get on a fucking train and come! She needs you just as much, Graham, you're her star pupil. The publicity she's getting and will get from being your teacher is priceless, don't you see that? She's not going to stop being your teacher if you come and see me tonight."

"Dammit, Cress, please, please be reasonable."

"There's only one person being unreasonable here, and it's not me."

"I don't want to fight with you, it's the first time I've heard your voice in nearly a week."

He heard Cressida sigh. "I don't want to fight with you, either, but this situation is so wrong, can't you see that?" A thought occurred to her. "Is Katherine still there? Is she listening to this?"

"Yes, she's wrapping my hand, I told you."

"Are you fucking kidding me? You couldn't do me the courtesy of having this conversation in private?"

"For fuck's sake, Cress, it's Kath—"

"Yeah, your ex, remember? How could you?"

"Look, Cress, I'm not going to do this with you, okay? We're just going to end up saying things we regret, and I don't want that. You wanted to talk, we've talked, we'll talk again soon."

"Fine."

"I love y—"

But Cressida was gone.

Graham threw his phone across the room, where it bounced harmlessly off an armchair and landed on the ground, face down.

"Dammit!"

Katherine, who was sitting at the foot of his bed, looked at him sympathetically. "I'm so sorry, Graham. She'll calm down, just give her some time."

Graham shook his head. "Why is it so hard for her to understand?"

"She's not like us, she's not a musician, she doesn't live in this world." Katherine scooted a little closer. "Just remember that there's an entire world out there of people who don't live and die by how well they played the scherzo, right?"

Graham rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, making a sound of frustration. "Does she think I don't want to see her? What the fuck is wrong with her?"

"You need to stop. This is so bad for you, exactly what mum was trying to avoid when she said you shouldn't see Cressida until after the competition. Every bit of her that's in your head is taking up room that should be filled by the Rach 2."

He made a fist with his wrapped hand, wincing as he did so.

"Graham, stop it! What are you doing?"

Graham stared at her. He'd had it with women yelling at him and telling him what to do.

"Do you mind? I'm just a little bit upset, you know? My love life's in a shambles, I don't know if my hand is going to be okay by the 21st, the third movement is still shit—" he punched the bed.

"Graham!" Katherine was horrified.

"Don't worry, it's a soft surface, no damage done."

Katherine scooted farther up the bed to take his damaged hand in her own. "You're being self-destructive now, which doesn't do anyone any good."

"I'm not feeling self-destructive, dammit! I'm just pissed off."

"Graham, please, calm down!" Katherine was well within his personal space now, her knee touching his calf, her breath warm in his face. She stopped talking, seeming to realize how close they were. She looked at him steadily, her chest heaving.

Suddenly Graham reached out with his good hand, pulling Katherine to him. He kissed her, hard, making a sound of frustration and need.

The effect on Katherine was galvanizing. She leaned into the kiss, reaching for him, seemingly electrified.

He stopped and pulled back, staring at her.

Very deliberately, Katherine leaned forward and kissed him again, while unbuttoning the top few buttons of her blouse. She took Graham's good hand and put it inside her blouse, on her breast, while letting out a murmuring sigh of contentment. She pressed him back until he was lying down on the bed, getting next to him and making herself comfortable against the pillows.

Graham turned sideways, and simply ripped through the rest of the buttons on her blouse. He pulled the cup of her bra down to reveal a large, creamy breast. He palmed it roughly, thumbing the nipple as he put his tongue in her mouth.

"Graham, I've wanted this for so long," Katherine breathed. She took her blouse and bra off, sitting up do to so. She then pulled his T-shirt off, revealing his torso.

Graham watched her with glittering eyes, pulling her down to him as soon as she was finished. He enveloped her in his powerful grasp, wrapping long legs around her and rolling them so he was on top of her. He plundered her as she lay beneath him, hands on her breasts as he ground his hips into her. He felt Katherine spread her legs, and part of him wanted to continue, but his anger left him as suddenly as it had come, leaving nothing in its place, a void, leaving him bereft. He felt as though he'd left his body, that it was no longer attached to his consciousness. He didn't want to be here.

Suddenly the door behind him opened.

"Why aren't you answering your phone? Graham, I'm so sorry—"

Graham turned around so see Cressida standing frozen in the doorway, her hand still on the knob. She looked very young and very vulnerable in her sneakers and gingham blouse, with her Pikachu backpack. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene on the bed, the rumpled coverlet, the topless couple.

Cressida fled.