Octavia leaned forward in the passenger seat of Vinyl’s car, squinting to read the names on the passing street signs. “Alright, it’ll be the next left.”

With a nod, Vinyl turned the steering wheel.

The street in question looked much like any other suburban neighborhood at night, dark and quiet and unperturbed. The houses were decently sized but not extravagant, and old, wizened trees lined the street on either side. About a third of the way down, Octavia pointed at one of the houses and Vinyl slowed the car to a stop.

“That’s the place, huh?” Vinyl asked, looking at the two-story home over the top of her shades. “Not too shabby.”

“It’s home,” Octavia replied simply, gazing at the residence in question. She remained seated, staring into the darkened windows with a growing, gnawing feeling in her gut.

“You alright?”

Octavia glanced at the other girl, finding a concerned expression written across her face. “Oh, yes, I’m fine,” she lied.

She looked back at her house. After the day she’d had, the idea of going home and getting some rest had been very appealing to her back at Sugarcube Corner. But now that she was here, she found herself reluctant to go inside. The sheer emptiness of her home was practically tangible, like a gaping maw waiting to swallow her whole. The very idea was ludicrous to her. She’d been home alone before, so why should tonight be any different?

She knew the answer, of course. It was hard to imagine a more different night than this.

There was nothing for it. She had to be an adult, go into that house, and get some sleep. Alone.

Unless…

Before she could stop herself, she asked, “Would you like to come inside?”

Even in the corner of her eye, she could see Vinyl freeze in the driver’s seat. Slowly, the DJ’s head turned, regarding her through those inscrutable sunglasses of hers. A moment passed, teetering on the edge of awkwardness, and then: “Really? Your folks won’t mind?”

“They’re not home.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “It’s their anniversary. They’re spending the whole weekend up at our cabin.”

“Is that right?” The corners of Vinyl’s mouth slowly tugged upward into a smile. “Well, then I’d love to.”

Octavia returned the smile, though hers was far less confident. “Thank you. It’s silly, but after everything that’s happened tonight, I just… I’d really appreciate the company.”

With a smile, Vinyl reached over and gave Octavia’s hand a squeeze. The touch was electrifying to the cellist, and she tried to ignore the warmth spreading through her cheeks.

Releasing her hand, Vinyl moved to pull into Octavia’s driveway.

“Wait!” Octavia said suddenly, peering at some of the other houses.

Vinyl stomped on the brake, giving both of them an unpleasant lurch.

“What is it?” Vinyl asked, alarmed. She looked at Octavia—saw the expression on her face—and her shoulders slumped a little. “You having second thoughts?”

“Hmm? Oh, no! Just… Would you mind parking down the street a little ways?”

Vinyl raised an eyebrow. “Any particular reason?”

“The neighbors,” Octavia whispered ominously, as if invoking the name of some fell beast. “They know my parents are away for the weekend. If they see a strange car parked in front of my house, there’ll be gossip, and if it gets back to my parents…”

Vinyl waited for her to finish that sentence, then said, “And… what? You afraid your parents will think you brought a guy over to screw or something?” As soon as the words left her mouth, Vinyl’s eyes widened. For an awkward moment, the two girls looked at each other, both blushing. Finally, Vinyl looked away, fidgeting in her seat. “Or—y’know—something along those lines.”

Toying with the hem of her skirt, Octavia said, “Please, just humor me.”

With a nod, Vinyl stepped on the gas.

The two girls made their way to Octavia’s front door under the cover of night. A few seconds spent fumbling with her keys in the dark, and Octavia managed to open the door, allowing the two of them to slip inside unnoticed.

As Vinyl waited, Octavia moved through the living room, turning the lights on one by one, gradually revealing the room to her guest.

It was only a living room, but it was beautiful; not exceptionally large or fancy, but tastefully decorated. This was a home—warm and heavy with memories. There wasn’t a TV in sight, all the seating places facing inward for long conversations. Shelves lined most of the available wall space, loaded with books and knick-knacks and family photos, and in front of a large stone fireplace on the far wall stood an old and clearly loved piano.

Vinyl gave an impressed whistle, lifting her shades to get an unimpeded view of the room. “Pretty sweet, Tavi. Very you.”

Octavia’s eyebrows furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing bad!” she replied, raising her hands in a placating gesture. “Relax, girl. I’m saying I dig it. It’s got a cozy, Old World sort of vibe to it.”

“Oh.” She gave a sheepish smile. “Sorry.” Removing her black shoes and setting them nearly to the side, she padded across the living room on her socked feet and sat in a large, leather chair.

“So, what do your folks do for a living?” Vinyl asked, making her way to a bookshelf and perusing its contents.

Octavia watched her as she walked, trying to keep her eyes fixed on the other girl’s face. “They’re teachers.”

“No way! At our school?”

“No, at the University. My father teaches history, and my mother teaches music.”

“Makes sense,” Vinyl said with a nod, casting her eyes between the piano and a large, antique globe in one corner. She continued along the wall, stopping occasionally to look at a book.

“And what about you?” Octavia said after a brief silence.

“Hmm?”

“What about your parents?”

“Ah.” Vinyl shrugged. “My folks split up years ago.”

Octavia grimaced. “Oh, I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t sweat it,” Vinyl said with a casual wave of her hand. “My mom got custody, but she’s pretty busy with her work, so I spend most of my time with Long Play’s place.” At Octavia’s questioning glance, she added, “My brother.”

“I see. Is he a musician, too?”

“Only in his free time. He’s a mechanic, actually. Mostly restores classic cars and does custom jobs—stuff like that.”

Remembering his work on Vinyl’s car, Octavia couldn’t help but be impressed.

“Oh. My. Gawd!” Vinyl cried suddenly.

Octavia jolted, her body leaving the chair for a split second. “What?! What is it?!”

“Check this out!” She grabbed a framed photo off the shelf and presented it to her. It bore the image of a tiny Octavia, dressed up in a frilly, poofy pink dress, standing between her parents with a violin in her little hand.

“Oh,” Octavia said, blushing. “That was taken after my first violin recital. I didn’t switch over to cello until middle school.”

“You were so cute!” Vinyl squealed.

Octavia’s blush deepened.

Returning the photo to its place, Vinyl looked across the room as if for the first time. “I can just see you waddling around here when you were little.” She walked over to the piano and gently pressed the middle C. “And lemme guess. This is where you got your first music lessons, right?”

“Yes,” Octavia said, crossing her legs as she smiled fondly at the old instrument. “My mother had me playing almost as soon as I could walk. I eventually strayed into the string instruments, of course, but the piano always brings back good memories for me.”

Vinyl smiled at her, and Octavia smiled back.

And then they smiled some more. The only sound was the ticking of a clock on the wall.

“Well!” Octavia said suddenly, getting to her feet. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Uh, sure! Water’s fine.”

“Coming right up!” Octavia replied with exaggerated cheer before moving across the room and ducking into the kitchen

Once out of Vinyl’s sight, Octavia leaned against the kitchen table and took a deep breath, her mind frantically replaying the past few minutes and searching for some explanation for her behavior. Except, it wasn’t just the past few minutes, if she was being honest. Moments like that had been happening all night, ever since she met the Vinyl at the amphitheater. Even now, just thinking about her, Octavia felt a familiar fluttery sensation in her stomach.

What is it about her, Octavia thought, massaging her temple. Why does she make me feel this way? For that matter, what even is this feeling?

Her mind supplied a few options:

Attraction?

Love?

“N-no! No, that’s… that’s silly,” she whispered to herself. “I just met her! How much do I even know about her! Besides… I’m not interested in girls that way.”

…Am I?

She began pacing, struggling to sort through her thoughts.

No matter what she did, she couldn’t avoid the conclusion that there was some connection between the two of them, one that seemed more than merely platonic. Like… chemistry. But could she even imagine feeling that way for another girl? Did she feel that way for Vinyl? And did Vinyl feel the same way?

Well, she agreed to come inside, didn’t she?

Octavia stopped pacing suddenly, her eyes wide and unblinking.

She’d invited Vinyl into her home.

Why? What had she expected to happen? What did she hope would happen? She’d said she didn’t want to be alone, and that partially true, but she knew there was more to it than that.

Vinyl’s off-hand remark back in the car sprang into Octavia’s mind:

“And… what? You afraid your parents will think you brought a guy over to screw or something?”

And the way Vinyl reacted afterward. The awkward moment they’d shared, blushes on their faces.

Unsolicited mental images began bombarding Octavia—lips brushing together, hands passing over skin, naked bodies tangled together; sweat and moans and cries of pleasure.

Octavia stomped her foot. “No!” she hissed to the empty room, face flushed and heart racing. Ignoring the sudden heat in her lower abdomen, she grabbed a glass out of the cupboard and began filling it with water. “I don’t know what Vinyl expected to happen. I don’t know what I expected to happen. But it won’t be that. I’m just going to bring Vinyl her water, make some polite conversation, and bid her goodnight.”

With a nod, to herself she shut off the tap… and then froze.

A sound could be heard drifting in through the door to the living room. Music. The piano.

As if in a trance, Octavia snuck her way across the kitchen and peeked into the living room. She nearly dropped the glass of water at the sight of Vinyl Scratch sitting at the piano, playing. The image alone was shocking: A rowdy, neon-haired DJ sitting at the piano with perfect posture, her hands dancing gracefully across the keys. And the music itself?

Extraordinary.

Octavia didn’t even realize she was walking. One second she was watching from the kitchen door, and then next she was right behind Vinyl, looking over her shoulder as the girl played from memory. Her technique, her feel for the music, the flow of her phrasing, her ear for color—Octavia was mesmerized by the display.

She must have moved close enough to be visible in the corner of Vinyl’s eye, because she jumped suddenly, turning to face Octavia as the tones of the piano faded slowly into silence.

“Jeez, Tavi! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

Octavia simply stared at her.

“Uh… You okay?” she asked.

Octavia breathed, “Was that Chopin?”

“Oh, yeah. One of his nocturnes, I think. I don’t remember for sure. I learned it years ago, and it’s always kinda stuck with me, y’know?”

“I had no idea you could play like that,” Octavia said, finally handing Vinyl her water.

“But…” She took a swig and swallowed, “I told you earlier tonight that I took lessons when I was younger.”

“Well, yes, but…” She pointed at the piano. “That was incredible! Why, with a bit of polish, you’d have the makings of a concert pianist!”

Vinyl shrugged. “Meh.”

“’Meh’?” Octavia felt her eye twitch. “’Meh’?!”

“Well… yeah! Look, the piano’s cool, and I can dig classical music, but that’s not really my scene.” She handed the half-drained glass back to Octavia and turned back to the keyboard, idly running through some rapid arpeggios. “I’d rather play own music. And if I’m gonna be doing that, I’d like to do something new. Something that’s never been seen before. It’s hard to compose classical music without stepping on some dead guy’s feet. You feel me?”

Octavia glared at her, then released her frustration in a sigh. “No, I can’t say I do, but… it’s your choice, I suppose. Even if it does seem like a waste.”

“’Waste’ nothing!” Vinyl scoffed. “I put everything I have into my music. Sure, it might not be classical, but I’m damn proud of it.” She gave Octavia a wink. “I’ll bring my laptop to school next week and you can take a listen. It might just surprise you.”

“Maybe you’re right. I didn’t mean to jump to conclusions.”

“Don’t sweat it.”

After only a moment of hesitation, Octavia set the glass on a nearby end table and took a seat next to Vinyl at the piano. “Can you play something else for me?”

“Oh, I dunno…” Vinyl said, coyly tapping her chin with a finger.

“Please! You’re so good!”

Vinyl didn’t answer at first, but then she cut her eye’s in Octavia’s direction. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll play something, but only if you play with me.”

Octavia’s breath caught in her throat. “You mean… like, together?”

“Yeah! Go grab your cello and we’ll jam.”

Octavia looked at Vinyl, then down at the piano, the wheels in her head turning. The idea of playing with Vinyl—of making music together—made her heart thunder in her chest.

“I have a better idea,” she said with a smile.

Before Vinyl could say anything, Octavia got up and darted out of the room. Still smiling, she jogged down the staircase leading to her basement and began rummaging through some boxes stacked in the corner. Inside were dozens—hundreds—of musical scores. She rifled through all the manuscripts in one box, then moved to the next. Soon enough she found what she was looking for and ran back upstairs, hugging a booklet to her chest.

Vinyl watched her as she ran back into the room and deposited the score on the piano’s music stand, reading the title on the front cover.

“Fantasia in F Minor for four hands, by Franz Schubert,” she read. “Hey, I’ve played some of his stuff before!”

Octavia sat back down on the bench and nervously adjusted her skirt. “It’s a bit advanced, but it’s my favorite piano duet piece, and it’s something we can play together.” She opened the score and flipped to the first page. “Now, I must warn you: I’m a little rusty on the piano, and you are, to my chagrin, clearly the better player. But I’m willing to give it a shot if you are.”

“I’m game!” Vinyl said with a grin.

As one, they turned to the manuscript and took a moment to study it. Then, with nods and tentative smiles, they raised their hands into position.

And they played.

Vinyl, seated to the left, started first, setting a steady rhythm in the lower register, over which Octavia laid the central melody into the start of the third measure. It was awkward going at first, Octavia struggling to keep up with Vinyl’s greater virtuosity. It was frustrating, to say the least. Octavia adored classical music, and yet she was being out-played by a DJ—and a DJ that was sight-reading, at that.

It didn’t help that Vinyl’s playing featured various subtle idiosyncrasies, which Octavia first believed to be minor mistakes, but slowly came to realize were deliberate. Even playing the piece for the first time, Vinyl was managing to weave expressive flourishes into the music, lending her own personal touch to the music and thoroughly tripping up Octavia’s more mechanical interpretation of the score.

She glanced at Vinyl out of the corner of her eye, watching as the girl swayed back and forth in her seat, lost in the music. Octavia faced the piano again, her heart beating a little faster, at once envious and enamored of the girl beside her.

In time, she got a feel for Vinyl’s style and adjusted her playing accordingly, and, as the piece went on, they fell more and more in sync. Soon enough, Octavia barely had to think about it, the music flowing out of her and mingling with Vinyl’s into a harmonious flow of emotion, the piano positively singing into the otherwise empty house.

As they began the Scherzo, Octavia felt like electricity was coursing through her veins. She would cast glances in Vinyl’s direction—looking at her face, at the smile upon it, at the way her body moved. And, from time to time, she could swear she felt Vinyl’s eyes on her as well. She could feel the warmth of the other girl’s body sitting next to her, and the way their hands and arms brushed together every now and then sent happy shivers up and down her spine.

As they moved into the final movement, Octavia realized they were leaning against each other. It was as though they were a single, four-armed being—some kind of eastern deity smiling in enlightened bliss. They were making more than music now. She could feel it in the air, like the magic she’d felt at the amphitheater. Only now, it wasn’t so unsettling. It was exciting.

The music built and built, fugal strains rising and tumbling over each other in euphoric cascades of sound… until it stopped.

A hovering, blank measure. The house utterly silent.

Then, the opening melody of the piece made a haunting reprieve. As they played through the concluding chords of the piece, Octavia chanced another look in Vinyl’s direction, catching something in her periphery.

There, atop Vinyl’s head, was a set of small, pony-like ears.

By the way Vinyl was looking at her, the affliction was mutual.

They played the final notes, and, as the music fell silent, the ears vanished in an ethereal flash of white light.

The two girls sat at the piano in silence for a moment, slowly facing each other, eyes locked as if trying to communicate the thrill and utter strangeness of the past twenty minutes. Octavia tried looking into the other girl’s eyes, but they were hidden behind those infernal shades. Reaching out, she removed the sunglasses and set them on the piano, revealing Vinyl’s magenta orbs.

What happened next was something of a blur to Octavia. All of a sudden, her lips were pressed against Vinyl’s. That was surprising enough, but nowhere near as surprising as the realization that it had been her, and not Vinyl, that initiated the kiss.

Octavia pulled away with a gasp, her face practically glowing red.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry!” she said, moving to stand up. “I-I don’t know what came over, I just…”

She was stopped suddenly by a hand grabbing her arm, which promptly pulled her back onto the bench.

“Tavi,” Vinyl said, heat pouring from her gaze. “Just shut up.”

And with that, Vinyl pulled her into another kiss.

Octavia’s eyes widened, every muscle in her body locking in preparation for flight. Except… it was actually rather nice. The softness of Vinyl’s lips. The touch of Vinyl’s hand on her arm. The way their legs pressed together under the keyboard.

Slowly—tentatively—Octavia kissed back, her eyes closing as she melted into the kiss.

She nearly balked when Vinyl’s lips parted and she felt a tongue brush against her lips. She gasped, which was all the wet muscle needed to slip into her mouth. As the other girl’s tongue met her own, a moan emerged from Octavia’s throat unbidden. She might’ve been embarrassed by the sound, except she found it hard to care.

Octavia lost all sense of time. The waltz of their tongues and the contact of their bodies—those were the measure of her existence. Nothing seemed to matter except the girl beside her, and the desire Octavia had for her.

Desire.

That was the feeling that had been haunting her all night. In hindsight, it was so obvious it nearly hurt. And now, that desire was ready to be sated.

As one, they broke the kiss, breathing heavily as they looked into each other’s eyes. In that moment, both of them knew what was about to happen, and both of them were more than okay with it. The only issue yet to be resolved was purely logistical.

“Would you like to see my bedroom?” Octavia asked.

“Does a bear crap in the woods?” Vinyl replied.

Biting her lip and feeling suddenly like she was riding up the first ramp of a roller coaster, Octavia grabbed Vinyl’s hand. Together they got to their feet, and Octavia led them out of the room.

The sound of their footsteps ascending the stairs, and then the living room fell silent.

Author's Note

The pieces played in this chapter: