Chapter 9: The Storm

The storm came on Friday night, and it took the lights with it.

I was alone in the blue bedroom with a half-written program for the orchestra and a candle that kept guttering.

Thunder rolled across the roof.

A door slammed somewhere below.

I could not settle, and I did not want to admit why.

For four nights I had lain on my side of the wall, listening to Delphine's piano on one side and nothing at all on the other.

Etienne's room was at the end of the hall.

He had not touched me since the music room, except when someone was looking.

I picked up the candle and walked down the corridor in my bare feet.

His door stood ajar.

He was at the window with his back to me, in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled, watching the rain run down the glass.

"You should be in bed," he said, without turning.

"The lights are out."

"Then you should be in bed in the dark."

"I don't want to be in bed in the dark."

He turned his head.

The candle lit one side of his face and left the other in shadow.

"Hazel, we have rules."

"We have five," I said. "I know them by heart."

"Then you know the second one."

"Separate bedrooms. I'm standing in the hall." I came one step inside. "Technically I'm not in yours."

"Technically."

"Technically no one is watching, either."

He crossed the room in three strides and took the candle out of my hand and set it on the dresser.

"You know what the fifth rule says," he said, very low. "Whoever falls first loses."

"I think we've both been losing since Thursday."

His hands came up and framed my face.

"Still performing?" I asked.

A sound came out of him that was half a laugh and half a groan.

"God, no."

He kissed me, and there was nothing careful in it.

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