Page 9 of Catastrophically Yours

SEVEN

UNSPOKEN MELODIES

The morning light filtered through Piper's kitchen window, casting geometric patterns across the pristine hardwood table where Drew sat motionless.

Her phone lay flat before her, Chris's showcase details glowing on the screen like a dare she wasn't sure she could accept.

The deadline loomed—respond by noon, or lose the opportunity forever.

Her finger hovered over the keyboard, then pulled away as if the device might burn her.

Pickle wound between her ankles, his substantial fifteen-pound frame pressing against her legs with the intuitive sense cats have for human distress.

The orange tabby's purr vibrated through the silence, offering comfort she wasn't sure she deserved.

After all, even her emotional support cat had chosen Piper over her.

"Hey, beautiful," she whispered, reaching down to stroke his head. For once, Pickle didn't dart away to find Piper. Maybe he sensed how desperately she needed the connection.

The sound of Piper's bedroom door opening made Drew straighten, quickly shoving her phone face-down.

When Piper emerged, dressed in her usual crisp white shirt and navy blazer, something in Drew's posture must have broadcast her turmoil.

Instead of heading straight to her color-coded calendar or the coffee maker—the typical morning ritual Drew had observed for weeks—Piper paused.

Their eyes met across the apartment's open layout. Piper's gaze swept over Drew's rumpled pajamas and the tension in her shoulders before settling on her face.

"You're up early." Her voice carried none of its usual brisk efficiency. She crossed to the kitchen, but instead of beginning her morning routine, she pulled out the chair beside Drew and sat down. The simple gesture felt enormous.

Drew's throat tightened. This woman who guarded her personal space so carefully was offering proximity, concern, presence. "Couldn't sleep."

"The showcase?"

The question hung between them, loaded with everything they weren't saying.

Drew nodded, then forced herself to speak past the knot in her chest. "Chris wants an answer by noon.

It's..." She gestured helplessly at her phone.

"It's exactly what I've been working toward.

A major label showcase, real industry attention. But working with him again..."

Her words trailed off as she watched Piper's face for any flicker of judgment. Would Piper think she was being dramatic? Overcomplicating what should be a straightforward business decision?

Instead, Piper leaned forward slightly, her green eyes focused with the same intensity she brought to her spreadsheets. "What does your gut tell you?"

"That's the problem." Drew's laugh came out shaky.

"My gut's saying two different things. The musician in me knows this could change everything.

But the rest of me..." She touched her stomach, where anxiety had taken up permanent residence.

"Something feels wrong about it. Like I'd be stepping backward instead of forward. "

Piper was quiet for a moment, her fingers drumming against the table in a rhythm that reminded Drew of piano scales. The observation struck her as odd—she'd never seen Piper play an instrument.

"What if we went somewhere you could think more clearly?" The suggestion came with careful hesitation, as if she were testing unfamiliar waters. "Blue Moon Café? I could work remotely this morning."

The offer hit Drew with unexpected force. Piper was willing to disrupt her rigid schedule, to enter Drew's creative space, just to help her process this decision. "You'd do that?"

"I think better when I'm not..." She gestured around her perfectly organized apartment. "Sometimes getting out helps me see things differently."

Twenty minutes later, they pushed through Blue Moon Café's familiar door together.

The scent of coffee and cinnamon wrapped around Drew like an old friend's embrace, but today even this sacred space couldn't settle her churning thoughts.

The exposed brick walls that usually inspired her felt heavy, and the stage where she'd poured her heart out week after week seemed to mock her indecision.

Piper claimed a small table near the window, spreading her laptop and files with characteristic precision. But Drew caught her glancing around the space with curious eyes, taking in the mismatched furniture and local art covering the walls.

"This is where you perform?" she asked, nodding toward the small stage.

"Every Thursday." Drew dropped into the chair across from her, then immediately stood again, too restless to sit still. "I've been coming here for three years. It's where I figured out my sound, where I learned to be myself instead of whoever I thought the audience wanted."

The irony wasn't lost on her. This place had taught her authenticity, and now she was considering a collaboration built on compromise and Chris's vision of who she should be.

"I used to write piano compositions," she found herself admitting, the words tumbling out before she could second-guess them.

"Before I switched to guitar. I had all these dreams about musical partnership, about finding someone whose style complemented mine.

" She laughed bitterly. "Thought I'd found it with Chris, but that was never collaboration. That was me adapting to his vision."

Piper looked up from her laptop screen. "Piano compositions?"

"Nothing elaborate. But I understood harmony differently when I played piano. Guitar's more intuitive for me, but piano..." Drew's gaze drifted to the old upright in the corner, its wood gleaming despite obvious age. "Piano feels like building something solid."

Something shifted in her expression—a flicker of recognition or longing. Drew followed her gaze to the piano, then back to her face.

"Do you play?"

The question seemed to startle Piper. "I used to. Before college." She closed her laptop with more force than necessary. "Haven't touched a piano in years."

"The café doesn't mind if people play during café hours. Marcus actually encourages it." Drew found herself moving toward the instrument, drawn by an impulse she didn't fully understand. "Sometimes hearing music helps me think through problems."

Piper followed slowly, as if pulled by invisible threads. At the piano bench, she hesitated, her fingers hovering inches above the keys. Drew recognized the look—Piper seemed to be weighing the risks.

"I'm probably terrible now," she warned, but settled onto the bench despite her words.

"Muscle memory's funny with piano. It tends to stick around."

Piper's hands found the keys with tentative precision.

She started with something classical—Bach, maybe, Drew thought—her posture gradually relaxing as her fingers remembered their way around the familiar territory.

The melody was simple but elegant, each note placed with careful precision that somehow created something beautiful rather than mechanical.

Drew watched her face transform. The perpetual tension around her eyes softened, and her shoulders dropped away from their usual defensive position. This was Piper without her armor, Drew realized. This was who she might be if she didn't spend so much energy maintaining control.

Without conscious decision, Drew retrieved Luna from her case and perched on a nearby stool.

Her fingers found the guitar strings, picking out a gentle harmony to complement the melody.

The notes seemed to surprise them both—Drew hadn't planned the accompaniment, but somehow her guitar knew exactly where to fit in the musical conversation.

Piper's eyes widened but she didn't stop playing.

Instead, she shifted slightly, leaving space in the melody for Drew's guitar to weave through.

They began building off each other, Drew's intuitive style dancing around Piper's structured foundation.

When Piper ventured into a minor key, Drew followed without hesitation.

When Drew suggested a rhythmic variation, Piper adapted with delighted precision.

This was what collaboration should feel like, Drew realized with startling clarity.

Not competition or compromise, but complement.

Two distinct voices creating something neither could achieve alone.

Her heart hammered against her ribs as Piper smiled—actually smiled—while her hands moved across the keys with growing confidence.

They built the improvisation slowly, layers of harmony adding richness without overwhelming the core melody.

Drew found herself leaning forward, her guitar cradled intimately as she watched Piper's face.

There was joy there, pure and uncomplicated in a way Drew had never seen from her carefully controlled roommate.

The music swelled, then gentled, following an internal logic that neither of them directed but both seemed to understand.

Drew's guitar offered questions that Piper's piano answered; the melodies created spaces that Drew's harmonies rushed to fill.

The conversation felt more honest than any words they'd spoken.

When the last notes faded into the café's ambient sound, Drew felt breathless. The silence between them thrummed with possibility and something deeper she wasn't ready to name. Piper's hands remained motionless on the keys, her face flushed with the kind of emotion she usually kept locked away.

"That was..." Drew began, but footsteps interrupted her.

"Well, well." Sadie's familiar voice cut through the moment like a blade. "This is interesting."

Drew's head snapped up to find her best friend standing near their improvised stage, coffee cup in hand and sharp eyes taking in every detail of the scene. Sadie's gaze moved between Drew and Piper with the calculating intensity of someone reading between lines.

Heat flooded Drew's cheeks as she became suddenly aware of how intimate the musical moment had been. How close she'd leaned toward Piper, how their eyes had locked during the crescendo, how perfectly their styles had meshed despite never playing together before.

"Sadie." Drew's voice came out higher than intended. "I didn't expect to see you here this morning."

"Clearly." Sadie approached with the predatory grace of a protective big sister. "Are you going to introduce me to your piano partner?"

The emphasis on 'partner' carried enough weight to flatten a building.

Drew scrambled to her feet, nearly dropping Luna in the process.

"Piper, this is Sadie, my best friend. Sadie, this is Piper.

My..." She faltered, suddenly unsure how to finish that sentence.

Roommate seemed insufficient after what had just happened between them.

"The accountant." Sadie's tone suggested she was cataloguing every detail for future interrogation. She extended a hand to Piper, who had risen from the piano bench with her usual composed grace, though pink still colored her cheeks.

"Sadie." Piper shook the offered hand with professional politeness. "Drew's mentioned you."

"I'm sure she has." Sadie's smile was sharp enough to cut glass. She settled into a nearby chair without invitation, clearly planning to stay. "So, Piper. I had no idea you were musically inclined."

The moment shattered completely under Sadie's scrutiny. Piper stepped back from the piano, her walls snapping back into place so quickly Drew felt the loss like physical cold.

"I'm not, really," she said, gathering her composure around herself like a blazer. "Just fooling around."

But Drew had seen her face during the music. Had felt the way their playing intertwined with startling intimacy. Whatever that had been, it was the opposite of fooling around.

Her phone buzzed from across the café, still lying on their table beside Piper's laptop. Chris's deadline. The showcase decision. The choice between her past patterns and whatever uncertain future stretched ahead.

Looking between Piper's carefully neutral expression and Sadie's protective suspicion, Drew realized the decision had already made itself. She knew what real musical partnership felt like now. She knew the difference between compromise and collaboration.

She knew she was in serious trouble where Piper Novak was concerned.