Page 11 of Safety Net (Mendell Hawks #3)

Finn

Got it.

He was the only one to answer. I took it as a sign I needed to give them a refresher on how many laughs they could credit to my presence alone.

It was hard work being the primary source of entertainment for the friend group.

It downright saddened me to think of how little they were laughing at this very moment because I wasn’t there.

The elevator door finally slid (3/4ths) open on the second floor. I hurried out in case it changed its mind about its judgment on my soul.

Our meeting room was easy enough to find. My ribcage may be bruised from how hard my heart hammered in anticipation of seeing her. I wiped my palms on the back of my jeans, trying to get rid of nervous sweat.

The door was unlocked, but no one was inside. I went in anyway, checking the time to see if I was early. The clock showed I was ten minutes late.

The room was small, with two wall-to-ceiling windows on the far end, facing the bright green lawn at the front of the building. There were plastic chairs neatly arranged in a half-circle. In the middle stood a black podium that hosted a stack of sheet music.

Celeste’s pink tote rested on one of the chairs, weighed down by bag charms and a fully stickered water bottle. Next to the bag was a flute. The silver metal reflected the yellow overhead lighting.

She was nowhere to be found, so I took a seat next to the flute and drummed my hands on my thighs.

“Hi,” I said to the flute, realizing I hadn’t offered a greeting. “How’s it going?”

This was as close to an instrument I’ve been since my abysmal middle school recital.

Seeing one wasn’t as triggering as I expected.

I rested my elbows on my knees and looked closer.

There were so many buttons, each one shinier than the next.

I tried to resist the childish urge to touch, but I felt like I was in a museum.

And I’m a tactile person. Plus, the knowledge Celeste had held this instrument made me even more tempted to touch.

There was a chance for adjacent touch here.

A chance to place my fingers where hers had been and experience a bit of what she did.

The metal was cold. Each button curved down, making a perfect little space for finger pads. I dared to press down on one, and when it closed, the door opened. I snatched my hand away. The sudden movement disturbed the flute, and I scrambled to stabilize it once more.

“Hi.” Celeste’s greeting was low, and her gaze on my hand holding her flute. I didn’t know much about musician etiquette, but I did realize touching someone’s instrument without permission was considered taboo.

“Hi.” I snatched my hand away once more, now that the flute stopped rocking.

“Sorry. I was just thinking about middle school, music, and forks in the road. What if I had killed it in band and learned how to read music instead of learning how to block pucks? Then the flute was shining in the lights. I thought, Wow, I haven’t seen an instrument in person in years.

That’s weird, right? Music is such a big part of most people’s lives, but we rarely know how to play instruments and never see them. ”

Celeste remained silent as she came closer. She picked up her flute and inspected it. A wave of shame washed over me as I realized it probably cost her a fortune, and I’d gone and treated it like a toy.

“Have you held one before?” she asked.

I raised a brow. “No…”

“Would you like to?”

“Uh…”

She offered me a small smile then. “You just seemed curious. And I don’t mind.”

“In that case, yeah.” I nodded. “I’ve always wanted to hold one. Or a clarinet. Or…what’s the one that looks like a clarinet but has the weird long spout?”

Celeste laughed. “A bassoon?”

“Bassoon.” I nodded. “One summer, I begged my grandma to put me in band because I’d thought I’d fuck up a bassoon.”

Her laugh was brighter and lasted longer. I need to drown in it. To be so entwined that I didn’t know my end and its beginning.

“Really? People aren’t usually interested in wind instruments. Not when pianos, guitars, and drums are around,” she noted.

“Those are much too obvious if you ask me,” I teased.

Celeste moved a chair over so she’d have enough room to stand beside me. She offered me the flute. When I hesitated, she said, “Don’t worry, you won’t break it.”

“I’ve been known to break even the most unbreakable things.”

“Just don’t go whipping it around,” she joked. “And you’ll be fine.”

I accepted the instrument she placed in my hands. It was lighter than I thought it’d be.

“This is the mouthpiece.” Celeste pointed to the long part on top, which had an oval-shaped hole. “Don’t worry about that, it’s kind of gross cause I’ve had my mouth all over it.”

I chuckled. She doesn’t know how unbothered I am about that. My pulse quickened at just the thought of my mouth anywhere near where hers had been. I fell further on the pathetic scale when she adjusted my fingers.

“You space them out on the keys like this. Level it and stabilize it with your thumbs on the bottom.” Celeste instructed me, focusing on getting my positioning right.

My body buzzed, overstimulated with every new sensation.

Her fingers were soft and warm on mine. The star-shaped necklace she wore dangled between us, the warm metal brushing my skin as it swayed.

She smelled like how a good daydream felt.

“I’m going to teach you a note. The fingering for this one…” Celeste started.

And there it was: I was hard. Damn it. Fingering? Not imagery I needed right now.

“Requires you to lift your pinkies and the pointer on your left hand,” she said.

“Okay.” I nodded, trying hard not to breathe heavily like some asshole.

“Hold it steady.”

I followed her instructions, gripping the instrument like my life depended on it.

“There you go,” she praised. “You’re a natural.”

I laughed at how easy the encouragement fell from her lips. I was thrilled to have done something right in her presence.

“Do you want me to…show you? Like how it sounds? I don’t know if you care.”

“I care,” I said, genuinely curious how it sounded.

She moved completely behind me. I wasn’t ready for how close her face was to mine when she leaned over my shoulder.

“Don’t move,” she whispered.

I was as still as a rock. And still as hard as one too when she placed her hands on my shoulders, fingers barely touching me as she blew into the mouthpiece.

A beautiful note pierced the air. Celeste stopped short, laughing when I hummed in awe.

“Incredible,” I said. “The beginning of an angel’s chorus.”

As she laughed, she briefly dropped her forehead, pressing against my shoulder. I stayed utterly still, terrified of ruining this moment. Celeste pulled back when she realized how close she was.

She cleared her throat. “Sorry.”

“I don’t mind,” I whispered.

“That’s…um…that’s a D.” She took a deep breath and readjusted my hands, so I only held down three fingers on my left hand, my thumb, and my right pinky. “Ready?”

I only trust myself to nod at this point. She blew again, the note low and soothing. I felt the vibrations of her breath, which made the sparks flowing up and down my arms more intense.

The note slowly changed, high in frequency. I looked down to see if my fingers had slipped due to my struggle to stay focused. They hadn’t, thank God.

“G in the first octave was the lower one,” Celeste said when she pulled back. “G in the second octave was higher.”

“You change your airflow to get a different sound?” I asked, taking a closer examination of the mouthpiece.

“Right.” She moved beside me again, beaming at how I’d caught on. “A lot of notes on the flute have the same fingering and the sound depends on how fast or if I blow at an angle.”

“You’re a great teacher.” I would have learned a lot if she hadn’t been so close and so her.

“Thanks.” She dipped her head, shy as she grabbed a seat to move in front of me. “Ready to get down to business?”

I carefully placed the flute down. “I am if you are.”

She reached for her bag and pulled out a couple of folders. Celeste handed one to me and kept the other for herself.

“This is an outline of how I hope everything will go.” She opened a folder, and I followed suit, marveling at how organized everything was.

“I mainly need help in the set design department.” She pointed to page three, indicating I should go there when I was still stuck on the index.

“You and Jack will be in charge of sorting,” she said. “I don’t have a budget, so we’re using old set pieces from the playhouse storage. It’s stuff from the shows they put on every year. I made a list of things you guys should look out for. Must-haves and maybes.”

I nodded, scanning the items. Seemed straightforward enough.

“And…” she hesitated. “If you’re up for it…”

I looked up. “I’m up for anything. Between Jack and me, this task will only take a couple of days—no more than four.

And we need more volunteer hours than that.

I like this hands-on stuff.” Tutoring kids at the community center had become one of my favorite things during the month, but having to model patience by sitting in one place for long made me fidgety.

I like how active this musical was going to have me.

Celeste picked at the edge of her paper. “I was wondering if you’d be like…my assistant director. Interact with the performers. Relay information. Basically…be my mouthpiece.”

I blinked, surprised by the request and, honestly, honored she'd trust me with something like this. “You want me to do all the talking?”

“Basically.” She paused for a second, pressing her lips together as she thought. "I really admire how you communicate. You always make everyone feel included."

That was the highest compliment I’d ever received. And a slight indication Celeste had noticed me.

“I need you to know, I was born for this kind of work,” I said. “I won’t let you down.”

She smiled. “I know you won’t.”